Page 85 - In Five Years

I blink at him.
“Sorry,” he says. “But I understand the point.”
“Why are we outside?” I reach for my drink. It’s miraculously still cold, even
though the ice has almost melted entirely.

“Because we never get any fresh air.”
“This is hardly fresh,” I say. “Do the summers keep getting worse?”

“Yes.”
“I’m too hot to even eat.”
“Good,” he says. “Because the food was a ruse.”
He drops a calendar book down on the table between us.

“What is this?”
“It’s a planner,” he says. “Dates, times, numbers. We need to start getting

organized about this thing.”
“The wedding?”
“Yes,” he says. “The wedding. Unless we start making phone calls,

everything is going to be booked. They are already. We’re too tired at night to
talk about it, and this is how we got four years down the line.”
“And a half,” I remind him.

“Right,” he says. “And a half.”
He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head at me.
“We need a human planner,” I say.

“Yes, but we needed to plan to even get a planner. A lot of the top people
book up two years in advance.”
“I know,” I say. “I know.”

“I’m not saying this is like, your area—” David says. “But I think we should
do it together. I’d like that. If you want.”
“Of course,” I say. “I’d love that.”

This is how badly David wants to marry me. He’ll take his lunch hour to look
over Brides.
“No cheesy shit,” he says.

“I’m offended at the suggestion,” I say.
“And I don’t think we should have a wedding party,” he says. “Too much
work, and I don’t want a bachelor party.”