It took me a minute to respond, and when I did, I realized we were both yelling. “You can’t do anything like that. We can’t fuck and then exchange money. It’s morally bankrupt.”
Startling me, he laughed sardonically. “Well, you know what? How about I fucking marry you, and then it’ll be your money. Will that work?”
Before I could process what Ben said, I heard a female voice gasp off to my left. Both Ben and I turned toward the noise just in time to see Ben’s parents drop down behind the windowsill. I couldn’t help but laugh, and then I started crying.
With tears streaming down my face, I said, “I know this was a job, Ben, and I’m sorry I fucked it all up.”
Ben took a step in my direction. “Did you hear what I said, Jess? Shit, this isn’t how it should happen. There should be a ring and a plan. There should be flowers and an audience to cheer on our happiness, but the train has already left the station. You’re probably going to think I am out of my mind.” He dropped down on one knee in front of me. “I already know, Jess. I know you are the woman for me, today, tomorrow, and always. Be my wife.”
He wasn’t kidding. He was dead serious.
My heart began to gallop in my chest and ridiculously, I asked, “You mean it? You feel what I feel?” He smiled at me and tilted his chin to confirm that we were on the same page. “Then yes. One hundred percent yes.”
He stood and pulled me into his arms. Behind me Marla threw open the kitchen window and cheered, so there was an audience after all.
Ben
One year later…
I was awake. But I was hiding under the covers in our bed, terrified to read the reviews of last night’s show. Jess was curled behind me, playing the role of the big spoon. We were both hiding from the inevitable. But curled up naked in the confines of our apartment had become our happy place. We had learned to take solace in each other and reinvigorate from the punches of the outside world by isolating ourselves together.
“We are going to have to look eventually,” Jess said calmly.
“Or we could just stay here. Come on, we can pull the covers over our heads and I’ll make you come till you see stars.”
“That’s not a terrible idea.”
“I don’t have terrible ideas,” I said haughtily.
“That’s almost true.”
“Letting your mom plan our wedding was a doozy,” she teased.
“Oh, pshaw. You love our Halloween-themed shindig and you know it. Honestly, how many times have I heard you tell people you get to wear a black dress when other women have to suffer white.”
“True.” She smiled. “And I’m very excited for this year’s haunted Halloween stroll.”
I laughed. “Oh, are you now?”
“So excited,” she teased, squeezing her thigh tight against my hip. “But all this means that we have to get up, face the New York Times review, and make our way to LaGuardia so we don’t miss the plane to our own wedding.”
“Why did we do this?” I asked. “Why did we decide to have this show the day before our wedding weekend?”
“Because nothing can ruin this weekend. Not even a negative review of our first joint opening.”
I took a deep breath and threw the sheet off our bodies and jumped to my feet. “Okay, fine!” I exclaimed. “Do your worst critics; Jess and I will remain unphased!”
“So gallant,” Jess teased, pulling on her robe. I watched her tighten the tie at her waist, and then she turned, heading for our apartment door. The paper was most definitely sitting on our stoop.
Six months ago, Jess finally showed me her work. And just like my father had said it would, her photographs changed everything for me. Jess was a talent beyond explanation. She captured images that broke and mended you at the same time. Everything I’d ever said about photography died in an instant and my new argument becamemost photographers are terrible but for sure, photography is art.
Turning on the Nespresso machine, I hit the button and made two coffees. And then I carried them to our table as I waited for her to sift through the pages of the paper and get to the review of our joint show, The Pigs Have Flown. The show was a combination of Jess’s photos and the paintings from my childhood, plus two abstracts I completed after meeting Jess. It was a huge divergence from anything I’d shown in the past. But even if they panned me, that was fine. I wasn’t nervous about my stuff.
I was nervous that my fame and my prowess would overshadow Jess. I was nervous that people would be jealous of us as a power couple in the art world and look to diminish her just because she was tied to me. I was nervous that the reviews would hurt her somehow, that they would be shortsighted and miss the glory that was her art and that she would take it to heart and hurt. I never wanted Jess to hurt.
When she stopped flitting through the pages, I forced myself to take two deep breaths before I said, “Remember, no matter what they say, your work is incredible.”
She smiled at me. “As is yours.”
And then she read, “I am happy to report that The Pigs Have Flown, a new exhibit from Ben Hoffman and his fiancée, Jessica Darling, is by far the most inspired display of depth, creativity, and soul that I have encountered in years…