Before We Were Strangers: A Love Story

MATT

I left Brandon and Tati near the tree and headed for Grace with a new mission in mind. Sitting on a bench near the fountain, I smoked a cigarette and waited for her to finish playing chess. I blew smoke rings into the air while I thought about how I would get her to marry me.

I need to get her drunker.

Grace came walking toward me with a smile. It looked like all the tension was gone and I was relieved.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Orvin. The man who made my bow.”

“Oh. The one Pornsake bought for you?” I scrunched up my nose.

“Would you stop that?”

“What did the old man give you?”

“The number for a guy in a band who plays down at that place on Allen Street. They’re looking for a cellist and I could probably make a few bucks. Did Tati and Brandon leave?”

“Yeah.”

Grace looked disappointed, as if she hoped this thing with Tati would blow over by the time her chess match was over. “All right, let’s go.”

“Wait, you haven’t seen me double dutch yet, have you?” In my drunk brain, this was how I was going to win her over and get her to marry me. It was a brilliant plan.

“What? You don’t double dutch.”

“I do, too. See those girls over there? I met them two days ago. I showed ’em up.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t need to. I’m gonna prove it.”

We walked toward the girls, and the one who was jumping stepped out when she spotted me. With her hand on her hip, she said, “Oh yeah, Matty, Matty Double Dutch is here.”

I looked over at Grace, “See?”

Her eyes were as big as sand dollars. I began stretching, touching my toes, and bending to the side. Grace doubled over laughing.

“You’re not gonna . . . ?” she started.

“Oh yes, I am. Watch me.”

I got ready. The two girls starting turning the ropes and I did a goddamned flawless cartwheel into the center and started jumping. It was a risky move. I had only pulled it off once before but I knew it was time for the big guns. I did everything the girls sang out: “Matty, Matty, turn around. Matty, Matty touch the ground. Matty, Matty, show your shoe.”

I hopped on one foot.

“Matty, Matty, that will do. Matty Matty, go upstairs.”

I jumped higher as the ropes got faster. Grace was in hysterics by now.

“Matty, Matty, say your prayers. Matty, Matty, turn out the light. Matty, Matty, say good night.”

They stopped singing and the ropes swung faster and faster until finally those little brats got me and I tripped up. Grace was laughing so hard, I think she stopped breathing; she looked like a tomato.

The girls clapped along with a small crowd that had collected. I puffed my chest out, huffed on my fingernails, and rubbed them against my shirt. “Not bad, huh?”

“You’re full of surprises,” Grace said, catching her breath.

“And I will be . . . forever.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I was a camp counselor last summer.”

“Ha! Saint Matthias.”

“Actually, I got fired.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to know,” I said.

“Actually, I do, especially because you were fired from a job while working with kids. That’s a red flag right there.”

“It was all Clara Rumberger’s fault. She was another counselor. Her mom, Jane, was the director.”

“So, what happened? You got caught messing around with Clara?”

“Not exactly. Jane was the one who kind of had a thing for me.”

“The mom?” Her expression froze.

I nodded, growing more embarrassed by the second.

“What’d you do, Matt?”

“Clara sort of caught me and her mom, um . . . well, in a delicate situation in the camp kitchen after lights-out.”

“Oh. My. God. You pig.” She punched me in the arm. “I can’t believe you were hot after a cougar. So, why’d you get fired?”

“Well, apparently Clara threatened to tell her dad, Jane’s husband, unless I was fired.”

“She was married?”

I held up my hands in a defensive gesture. “She told me they were getting a divorce.”

“Man, Tati would have a field day with you.”

“Which reminds me. What was the deal with you guys earlier?” We headed back to the tree as we talked.

“I don’t know. She’s mad because she thinks I’m giving something up for you.”

I grabbed her hand and swung her around. She looked up at me and then looked away quickly. “Look at me, Grace. Are you giving something up for me?”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate.

“I would never want you to feel that way. You said yourself that we’re young, that we should do what we’re meant to do.”

“What’s that?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure, but I know I’m taking the internship, and you should go with Pornsake, if you think you should. You could always go to grad school later.”

“Dan wants to travel for a year and a half, Matt. He has a tour planned. He’s been saving and preparing for a long time.”

“Okay . . .”

“That means you and I wouldn’t see each other for that long.”

The thought made me physically ill. “But if it’s what you think you should do after we graduate, then do it.”

She blinked up at me and then shook her head and looked down. “That’s it? That’s how you feel? ‘Just go ahead, Grace, leave for over a year, and good luck’?”

My heart was pounding out of my chest. “Is your scavenger hunt over?”

“Change the subject much?”

“Let’s get drinks and talk,” I offered.

“Yes, Matt, because we always make such great decisions when we’re drunk.”

“Just come on,” I said. “I have an idea.”

We found a pub and spent the rest of the afternoon there. But instead of talking, we drank away the questions that surrounded our futures . . . that surrounded us. Grace picked ten songs on the jukebox and insisted on staying until each one played. By the time the last one came on, we were well and properly sauced.

“Are you drunk?” I slurred.

“Are you, MatthiUSSSS?”

“I nee’ take you somewhere, ’kay, Gracie?” I pulled her along as we stumbled out onto the street and down to the subway. We were laughing hysterically as we tried to keep our balance without touching the subway poles. The other riders were not amused. We got off downtown and walked a few blocks. “Look,” I said, pointing to City Hall, “we ssshould totally get fuckin’ married righ’ now, Grace! Thass the only thing that’ll make this ALL better.” I grabbed her shoulders and looked her right in the eyes, which were alight with happiness—or maybe it was drunkenness. “Wanna?”

“Thass a grea’ ideeea, Matt.”

I don’t know how but we managed to fill out all the necessary paperwork and fork over the fifty bucks. The justice of the peace, an irritated, short, red-haired woman told us, “You need a witness, and I’ve only got fourteen minutes left on the clock. You’d better hurry.”

“Wait,” I said, “Hold on.” I came back a few minutes later with a homeless man who said his name was Gary Busey. I had to pay him ten bucks.

The ceremony was over in about a minute. I think I said, “I do,” as did Grace, and then we kissed sloppily.

Gary Busey cleared his throat behind us. “Come on you two, get a room.” We hugged him and then ran into the bathroom and washed Gary’s overwhelming salami smell off our hands. When I came out, Grace was waiting in the hall. I held my hand out. “Mrs. Shore, may I have this dance?”

“Yes, husband, I would be honored.”

We danced around like fools for a few minutes and then stumbled out of the building, laughing. After we took the subway to the East Village, I gave Grace a piggyback ride eight blocks to Senior House, where we passed out, eating tortilla chips in the lounge.

DARIA SHOOK MY shoulder. “Matt? What are you two doing down here?”

I looked up at her and squinted. My head was pounding and the small desk lamp on the end table in the lounge was like a powerful Vita-Ray blasting my skull. “Oh shit,” I said, holding one hand against my head and the other against my stomach. I had achieved the mother of all hangovers.

I turned to see Grace passed out beside me on the grungy couch. “Grace.” I shook her and she groaned and made a pained sound, whimpering like an injured animal.

Daria helped us get up, and we headed to our rooms. I worshipped at the porcelain altar of a vengeful god all morning before passing out again.

Later, I went to Grace’s dorm and found the door cracked. “You okay?” I asked as I walked in.

“Yeah, come in,” she said. I found her lying on the floor, her face pressed to the germ-y carpet. Her pallor had a greenish tint to it.

Swaying in the doorway, I dry heaved and then braced myself against her desk. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Ouch,” she said, sounding like E.T. She reached her index finger out toward me and said, “Eliot, phone home.”

Chuckling weakly, I pressed my hand to my forehead and buckled over. “Shit, don’t make me laugh, my head is killing me.” I moved across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, my head drooping between my legs. “We got so messed up yesterday.”

“We got fucking married, Matt.” She opened her bloodshot eyes wide for emphasis.

“I know.” Although a part of me hadn’t been totally sure until now.

I looked across the room at myself in the mirror. My hair was sticking up in every direction, and there was a mysterious stain across my white T-shirt.

“Holy. Shit,” she said.

“What?”

“What are we gonna do? Was that even really official?”

I pointed to her finger, where I had placed a ring made out of a gum wrapper. I held up my own matching gum-wrapper ring. “I mean . . .”

“Wait. Did you say ‘nanu-nanu’ when you put this ring on my finger?” she asked. I gave her a guilty smile and nodded. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you did this for a bet, Matt! What is wrong with you?”

“Wait, what? How did you know?”

“Tati came by this morning and proceeded to roll around on the floor, laughing her ass off, while I puked my guts out. She said she’d been bluffing and couldn’t believe you went through with it. All news to me, thank you very much.”

“That bitch,” I whispered. “She still owes us a night out.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Hold on a second. You stood there, right next to me, with Gary Busey as our witness, and said I do. I didn’t force you to do anything.”

She sat up and held her head. “I was fucking wasted, Matt.”

“Grace, wait, let’s calm down and go lie on your bed.”

“No. No way. We need to figure how to get this thing annulled. Like, today.”

“We can get it annulled tomorrow. Let’s just take a shower and go back to sleep, okay?” She sat there, rubbing her head for a few seconds. “Or, and this is just a thought . . . maybe we don’t have to get it annulled?”

She looked up, shocked. “What? Have you lost your damn mind?”

Her tone was like a knife to the heart. She wouldn’t even entertain the idea. Granted, it wasn’t exactly an ideal way to get married, but she acted like the idea of being married to me repulsed her.

“You want everything from me, Grace, and then you act like this? Like being married to me is the worst thing in the world? Why don’t you just go to Europe with Pornsake? What difference does it make? We’re so young, and we should get to do everything we want to do. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“You know what? I should get to do everything I want to do. Tati’s right; maybe I’m turning down a great opportunity just to stay here and wait for you. Maybe I will go with Pornsake after all.” As the words left her mouth, I felt both of us tense up. I waited for her to turn to me, to apologize, to take it all back. But she turned away. She wouldn’t even look at me. “Leave me alone. I can’t deal with you right now.”

I stood up from the bed, fuming. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to deal with me ever again.” I stormed out of her room and slammed the door. I didn’t know what had happened, but in the span of a minute, I felt like my whole fucking life was over.

I waited a day, hoping she would come to me and apologize.

Nothing.

I waited another day, resisting the urge to apologize myself.

On the third day, I slipped the annulment paperwork under Grace’s door, if only to get her to talk to me. I heard her crying that night through the wall and then she played the Bach suite on her cello for three hours straight. I fell asleep with my ear to the wall.

Still nothing. Not a single word exchanged between us.

Days turned into a week. A week turned into weeks. We didn’t talk. I didn’t even see her. I felt like shit. When I’d hear her door open or close, it took everything in me not to run out into the hall and grab her and say, What the fuck are we doing to each other?