"She (his wife) wants you to know she's ready to make the trip down south." I held the sad taco to my lips and looked up at him, red wedding fever slowly creeping up my neck and flushing my face.
"Really?" I asked him and he looked at me a little puzzled-like.
"Yes," he replied. It hadn't occured to me that anyone in my life would support me in that endeavor. I simply did not think myself worthy of all the hoopla that when into it and came out of it. I had purchased a hundred dollar quilt for a bride off her list once, for instance. I couldn't imagine anyone going to Pier 1 and buying me a hundred dollar quilt or driving 3.5 hours to come to my wedding and give me the quilt.
I abandoned the conversation and went back into my head where I had been a year earlier. I had been so sure I wanted a Dia De Los Muertos wedding and a baby soon after. I'd have my own little house and my own little family and my own little life, finally.
But I write this from my position alone in a duplex, with no hope and no harm, just another false alarm.