The Morning After
Amelia Suarez
It was the sunlight streaming in through the gap in the windows that first alerted me that something was wrong. I reached for the glass of water I always kept on my bedside table, only to see that there was a fancy jug and two glasses covered and kept on a tray. The room smelled of roses and happiness. I poured myself a glass of water. As I slowly sipped it, I noticed my left hand.
My eyes became as round as saucers. There was no mistaking it. I was wearing a wedding band. I set the glass down violently and shook my head. How was this possible? My wedding wasn’t until next week. Why was I wearing a wedding band?
That wasn’t even the worst of it. I realized I was in an alien bed, with the softest matters and the fluffiest pillows. And there was someone else in the same bed as I was! How I was still alive to witness this scene was beyond me. Fear and shame gripped me. I noticed the crop of brown hair peeking from under the curtain and decided to wake up the person. I wasn’t feeling brave but my need to find answers to this strange scene won.
“Excuse me,” I said, loudly.
There was no reply. I poked him on the shoulder lightly.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” I said, again, and this time he stirred.
He looked back at me and grinned, and said, “Oh, good morning, wifey.”
Wifey?
The ground beneath my feet began to move. I glared at him and said, “What are you talking about? I’m not your wife.”
“My wedding band says otherwise,” he chuckled and showed me his hand.
I got even more pissed than I was. Fear abandoned me. I was furious.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” I said, slowly and deliberately, “But I’m not your wife. Because from what I remember I was here on my bachelorette trip.”
“We’re in Vegas, love,” the man grinned now. He’d sat up in bed, and the blanket was now tucked around his waist. I tried to ignore the fact that he had a perfectly chiseled body. Maybe if I wasn’t engaged to someone else, I would have considered hooking up with him. I shook away the wayward thoughts from my head.
“And might I remind you, it was your idea to have a shotgun marriage,” he said, smiling even more, “So come and kiss your husband good morning.”
“You’re insane,” I replied, backing away from him, “And I don’t remember anything from last night. Why would you agree to marry me in the first place?”
“I don’t know,” he said, the corner of his lips twitching, “It’s not everyday a pretty brunette stumbles into your arms and promises you the world, if you just end her misery by marrying her.”
The last part did sound like me. Thank God I’d kept my mouth shut about why I wanted him to end my misery in the first place though. There are somethings one can’t recover from. My little secret was definitely one of them.
“Well, if we’re truly married,” I said, trying to fight the hangover now, “I want our marriage to be over.”
He grinned even more broadly now. “That’s not possible, love.”
“Why not?”
“Because we consummated our marriage last night.”
“Maybe you should sit down for a bit?” asked my new-husband from the bed, as he watched me pace up and down, muttering nineteen to the dozen to myself.
“Shut up!” I said, throwing up my hands in exasperation, “I have no memory of last night. Yet, I have a husband and legal papers that prove the same! I don’t know what’s going on. But I can’t be married to you. I can’t.”
“Well, I don’t want to divorce you just yet,” he said, smiling slightly, “So, looks like we are at odds.”
“I want an annulment,” I said, angrily.
“Well, I refuse to be the man who didn’t even try to make it work,” he replied, now equally mad at me, “How can you want to end something that’s not even begun?”
“How can you marry someone you don’t even know?” I asked, almost yelling now, “In fact, do you even know my name?”
“I know a lot about you, Amelia Suarez,” he said, matching my loud tones, “And it begins with how flustered you get when you are under pressure.”
“Amazing,” I said, sarcastically, “You know all about me from just the one night spent together, huh?”
“Well, you do talk a lot,” he replied. He leaned back against the headboard of the bed.
Against my will I caught myself admiring his physique again. His emerald green eyes noticed me checking him out and they had a glint in them.
“You can come here,” he said, invitingly, “After all, I’m your husband.”
“You’re just a mistake,” I said, bitterly, “And a mistake if I don’t fix right away, could cost me more than I care to admit.”
“Are you really engaged to be married, my love?” he asked, sweetly.
“How did you end up marrying someone else’s fiancée?” I asked, angrily, “I doubt drunk-me kept that information from you.”
“That was actually the main reason I agreed to the shotgun wedding, sweetheart,” he smiled again.
It wasn’t helping that he was devastatingly handsome. Where was he when I was still in my early 20s and still blissfully unaware of how dire our situation was at home? Why now? When my hands are tied and I decided to get married because that was the best option for everyone involved.
I sighed again. Then tried to reason with him one last time.
“Look, I don’t know what angle you’re playing. But I’m asking you nicely please end this marriage. I have to fix things once I’m back home.” I said, slowly, “And I really need to walk down the real aisle and get married to my actual fiancé.”
“Sure,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, “I’ll let you go. Just as soon as you tell me my name.”
“What?”
“Tell me what my name is, and I’ll file for an annulment right away.”
