"Honey, we don't need to deal with all this stuff," said Bryan Shaughnessy, pushing the list across the coffee table. "At least not right now. We can get back to it in the morning."
Meghan gave him the same icy stare he'd seen a hundred times. He had foolishly hoped he would see less of it after proposing to her, but it seemed that as they planned their wedding, Meghan's evil eyes had appeared with more frequency and intensity.
"In the morning?" Meghan looked as though Bryan was confessing to a murder. "We have a month to go, and we still have tons left to do. What am I going to tell the venue? They need to know what we've picked!"
Bryan tried to stay calm. After all, he was going to be spending quite a lot of time with this woman in the future. He had to learn how to work with her.
"We need these wine glasses," Meghan shot back. She slowed down and talked to Bryan like he was a child. "Otherwise, we won't be able to serve wine."
"You know what I meant, Honey," Bryan replied. "We can get almost any style, and people are going to have a good time."
Meghan knew he was right, but all the same, she stormed out of the room, leaving Bryan in a familiar state of helplessness. He and Meghan had been fighting a lot lately. In situations like this, he'd normally call Bridget, but his sister was out of the country. She had taken a trip to Ireland with her university's architecture club, and she wouldn't return until a week before the wedding. It was one last hurrah for Bridget, who was set to graduate at the end of the summer. She only needed to finish one online course, which she could complete from abroad. After that, she would start job hunting. She talked about traveling to the rest of Europe, or Japan, or Australia... just about anywhere. Bryan's honeymoon to Cancun was about all he would really be able to do in terms of travel, given Meghan's work schedule. Bridget, however, would go crazy staying in one place like that. She wanted to see the whole world.
It made sense to Bryan. They had money from the will and from the settlement, after their father's accident. Neither of their parents had any siblings, so their two kids never had aunts or uncles or cousins. If it weren't for Bryan, their mother, and a few college friends, Bridget wouldn't be tied down at all. She was cheated of a normal life in many ways; why shouldn't she get something back?
Bryan badly wanted to contact his sister. An e-mail could reach her, but it wouldn't carry the same personal connection he wanted. Besides, she couldn't do anything to help him this time. The last time he called Bridget, it was the same problem: Meghan was freaking out about the wedding, and left the apartment in anger. Bryan dialed his sister, who wasted no time in getting to his front door.
That time, Bridget stayed longer than usual. The two siblings watched a movie together, and Bridget found herself curled up against her brother's chest. Bryan remembered stroking her wavy black hair a bit as the movie went on, and how they caressed each other lightly for a few minutes. Bryan knew it was borderline inappropriate, but he shrugged it off; he was engaged, and Bridget was family. Also, though he struggled to admit it to himself, he found himself overcome with a curious attraction to his sister. They had always been close, having grown up without a father, and only separated in age by two years. Bryan could always rationalize any feelings he had toward Bridget as regular brother-sister stuff. It was no secret he cared a great deal about her, and their movie cuddling session was merely evidence of that.
That was a week ago. The following day, she left for the airport, and Bryan stayed in Ohio with his fiancé, who was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with.
Bryan thought back to the time he and Meghan met. Bryan had taken a bit of a leap by agreeing to hit a local bar for happy hour after work. They were all talking about the red-headed bombshell in the corner, discussing who should go talk her up. Bryan was 23 years old and stupid, so he decided he was the man for the job. While the others chatted, Bryan waltzed over to the redhead, and found her even more striking than before. At 5 feet 8 inches and a generous bust size, with shoulder-length red hair, the young woman seemingly lacked nothing in the looks department. Bryan introduced himself, and discovered that the knockout standing in front of him was named Meghan Matthews. Bryan supposed that, as a fairly decent-looking man, he had as good a shot as any. His fair skin wouldn't do him any favors, but his dark hair and fit 6-foot-2-inch stature should help him out. Besides, women like a man with a good personality and sense of humor right? Bryan did his best to be charming, and it worked. Meghan left her ten digits on a receipt, and they were engaged seven months later.
In retrospect, seven months was way, way too fast.
In the following months, Bryan came to realize just how many issues he and Meghan had to work through. He valued hard work, though, and marriage was hard work. Though he wished he had waited to propose, Bryan didn't see any value in backing out now. Sure, Meghan was neurotic and somewhat controlling. Sure, she was a tad selfish in bed. But they'd work these things out like adults.
But was she really an adult? Every time he tried to bring up these issues, she shut him down. Bridget had always been there to remind him why he was doing all this.
"She makes you happy, right?" Bridget once asked her brother. Bryan nodded hesitantly. "Then you have to take the good with bad." Bridget gave the half-smile that melted Bryan every time he saw it. How could he say no to her? Bryan didn't know how happy Meghan really made him, though. Was he getting married just to get married? Was it because she was so attractive that he didn't think he could do better? Bryan looked back at his adorable sister, and relented. He couldn't disappoint her, not after all they'd been through. He told her that yes, he'd take the good with the bad.
But Bridget wasn't here this time. Bryan didn't have close male friends anymore; ever since he and Meghan got together, Bryan lost touch with his old college buddies. He had his mother, but Bridget was always closer to mom than he was. Bryan didn't feel that he could go to his mother for relationship advice. It was only Bridget.
He thought back to a conversation they once had. Bryan asked Bridget what she planned to do after school, besides travel. She told him that she figured she'd find the right man and settle down, maybe have kids. Bryan concentrated harder, and recalled the specific words she used: "When I'm lucky enough to find a guy like you, we'll make a life for each other." Bryan had always figured he would find a girl like Bridget: funny, spontaneous, insightful, charming, beautiful. While Meghan was beautiful - by many standards the most beautiful woman he knew - she was nothing like Bridget. Bridget was pretty in her own right. While she didn't stun every guy who walked by, she could get most guys' attention at least. After that, it was a matter of personality... and her eyes. Bridget's shimmering blue eyes could melt the heart of every man in history, Bryan was convinced. Meghan seemed colder, more career-driven, more ambitious. He didn't think these were necessarily bad things, but he knew he would always compare her to his sister. Meghan didn't measure up.
For the first time in a while, Bryan was seriously doubting whether this was all the right thing. He went to his liquor cabinet and grabbed the Jameson. Irish whiskey for a saddened Irish man. It seemed fitting. Bryan threw back a small glass, probably too quickly. Then he had another, and another. Soon, he found himself in and out of consciousness, contemplating his impending marriage to a woman he wasn't sure he truly loved.
The next thing Bryan knew, there was a loud
BANG BANG BANG
at the front door of his apartment. A woman shouted, "Bryan, are you in there? Answer your phone!" Bryan tried to compose himself. He saw the Jameson on the counter, half empty, and began to piece together what had happened. But what surprised him was that, as he stood up, he didn't have a headache. He always got terrible hangovers after blacking out. So... he wasn't hung over.
He was still drunk. And Meghan wasn't going to like that.
He lumbered toward the door, and stood there for a minute. Meghan continued slamming on the door until Bryan opened it.
"Hey Honey," he managed to blurt out. Meghan gave him a suspicious look before she smelled it.
"You're drunk," she stated matter-of-factly. Meghan stood there looking as angry as Bryan had ever seen her. She saw the Jameson on the counter. "You're really, really fucking drunk. I called you eight times, you asshole."
