Take A Picture (It'll Last Longer)

Kip did have the worst going-away party ever. We held it in my living room after Ben moved all of his stuff into, get this, my room. Yeah. Ben took the “making it believable” thing to the extreme. Anyway, Kip’s going-away party consisted of a case of beer, some salsa dip and chip, Elle and Dirk making out on the couch, Cornelia going on about how her new manicure. Then Kip hooked up with Holly in the bathroom and decided to call it a night while Holly was still pulling up her skirt. Of course, Kip didn’t leave before Ben put his arm around my waist and invited everyone to our wedding Saturday. Remind me to kill him.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know!” Ben said.

“When I said ‘keep it in the down low’, I meant don’t tell anyone not buy a billboard and inform the world!” I hissed.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m so stupid!” Ben growled.

“It’s not your fault! It’s your parents’!” I shouted back. Then we both started laughing hysterically and started watching The Late Show with David Letterman.

“So, can I turn Elle’s old room into a darkroom?” Ben asked.

“Can’t you do all that stuff on Photoshop?” I asked him.

“Yeah, but I still like having a darkroom,” Ben shrugged.

“And where are you gonna sleep?” I asked him curiously.

“Well… along the lines of making believable…” Ben blushed.

“You are not serious,” I growled.

“We did it last night,” Ben replied, “and you used to stay over with me all the time in college when it was past curfew and they wouldn’t let you back into your dorm. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is…” I said, hoping to stall until I could think up an answer. “Fine. There isn’t a difference. But if you’re going to live here, you’re going to pitch in.”

“I made breakfast this morning, did the laundry, and went grocery shopping after work,” Ben replied.

“Why are you so on top of things? I’m running out of things to yell at you for,” I grimaced. “Could you at least leave your underwear on the floor so I have something to bitch about?”

“Will do,” Ben nodded agreeably. I sighed and rolled my eyes at him.

“So…what do we do now?” I asked him.

“About what?” Ben asked me, momentarily distracted by a Burger King commercial. “Oh yeah… the wedding deal…”

“Yes. The wedding deal,” I frowned. “Are we dressing up or something?”

“I guess,” Ben shrugged. “I can wear my Sex Pistol’s shirt and some nice pants…”

“You call that dressing up?” I snorted.

“I only own one suite and I got it at a thrift store,” Ben protested.

“What do you spend all your money on? You never seem to have any,” I said.

“I’ve got to look out for myself,” Ben replied. “I put a lot of it into a retirement fund. And then I have to pay off that fabulous car of mine.” Ben’s car is used and from 1984. The “Crap Trap” as Kip refers to it, is worth about as much as a stick of gum but Ben is paying the dealership an arm and a leg for it. He wasn’t very good at negotiating with them.

“What else?” I asked him.

“I bought our rings yesterday,” Ben shrugged. “And now I’m flat broke. I hope you’re happy way.”

“I suppose I’m happy if you are,” I replied.

“Why, I’m as giddy as a schoolboy,” Ben said, doing his best Scrooge impersonation.

“I thought you said this was a win-win,” I snorted. “You get to stay in the country, I don’t loose my apartment…?”

“I know,” Ben sighed, “but I don’t think you’re really on board with this…”

“Me? On board?” I asked, annoyed.

“Well, I’m all for this entire thing, but you just don’t seem committed enough to this entire charade,” Ben replied. “I’m starting to wonder if it’s going to be worth putting forth the effort to make you happy…”

“What are you blabbering about now?” I asked.

“Saving our marriage,” Ben shrugged.

“Our fake marriage? That we’re annulling in six months? Our fake, sham of a marriage that you made up so you could stay in the US?” I said, my mouth agape. “You are talking about saving our fake marriage?”

“At least I’m committed to seeing to it that this relationship works,” Ben said pretending he was going to cry. I hit him over the head with a couch pillow.

“You should have been an actor,” I said to him. “You do really good freaking people out, you know?”

“And here I am with you, squandering my talents so I can take cheap pictures,” Ben sighed depressed. “At least I still have my figure.”

“If you call that a figure,” I said, slapping his stomach.

“Ow,” Ben frowned. “It’s not exactly a beer gut. I do work out. Occasionally.”

“The most working out you do is running after tow trucks when you illegally park your car,” I snorted. Ben rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair.

“I’m going to sleep. You can stay up and poison your brain with mind-numbing television all you want,” Ben said before scampering off. I threw a pillow at him as he disappeared into the bedroom to get ready for bed but missed. I sighed and turned back to the TV, waiting to hear Ben’s loud snoring before I got ready for bed myself.

On the evenings I would stay out so late with Ben and my other college friends that the dorms would close, cruelly forcing me to spend the night over at Ben and Kip’s, I would share the bed with Ben because:

a) the couch was usually covered in a questionable substance
b) I was not sharing a bed with Kip
c) most of the time, Kip was already sharing his bed with someone else, and
d) Ben’s room was the only other place to sleep.

When I stayed over, Ben used to pretend he was asleep so I would get ready for bed and then as soon as I was starting to drift off into sleep, he would find that place under my arms where I’m really ticklish and basically torture me. Now I’m smart enough to wait until I hear him snoring so I know he’s in a deep sleep before getting into bed. I intently listening to Ben fumbling around in the bathroom when the phone rang. Absentmindedly, I picked it up.

“Catsie!” my mother’s voice chortled, oozing with maternal pride. “Why didn’t you tell us? You didn’t think you could keep such a big secret from your Mommy and Daddy did you?” I froze instantly, almost dropping the phone.

“Um…secret…?” I said, failing miserable at playing it cool.

“You and Ben, sweetie! You’re getting married! That’s fantastic! Now, your father and I are coming in town tomorrow… Oh, I know a great dress shop we can go to…” my mother prattled on. “Ben is such a handsome man. He’ll look fantastic in a tux…”

“Good luck getting him into one,” I snorted. “Besides, we’re getting married at City Hall.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” my mother nodded. “I’m not big on church weddings either…” My mother is an agnostic and my father is an atheist, though apparently my parents were both practicing Druids for a period before I was born.

“How did you find out about this anyway?” I asked my mother.

“Oh well, Ben called us…” my mother said.

“Just a second. Did you say Ben called you?” I said, horrified.

“Yes,” my mother nodded. “He told us to come in this weekend because the two of you are getting married…”

“I could kill him,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Now, I have a friend in Chicago who can do an after wedding lunch. As for the rehearsal dinner… oh, and I simply must meet Ben’s parents…” my mother began.

“Mom, there isn’t going to be a rehearsal dinner and Ben’s parents aren’t going to be in town,” I said.

“What do you mean? I thought they’d jump on the first flight and… why aren’t you having a rehearsal dinner?” my mother asked.

“Because we’re going to get married at City Hall on Saturday,” I replied.

“On Saturday?” my mother said, aghast. “No… you must mean a few months from now. Weddings take planning…”

“Mom, we decided we were getting married two days ago, we’re getting married on Saturday,” I said. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“My only child is getting married and you say that isn’t that big a deal?” my mother replied, on the verge of insulted. “It is a very big deal, missy…”

“Look, Mom, it’s not like this is serious or anything,” I rolled my eyes. “We’re just getting married so Ben can stay in the country.” There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a moment and I thought my mother was suffering from a brain aneurism.

“You’re just marrying him so he can stay in the country?” my mother said furiously.

“Well, you see… Ben forgot to renew his green card and if he goes to contest being deported they’ll deport him faster because of his traffic tickets…” I rambled on. “It was quicker and he wouldn’t loose his job or anything that way. And I do need a new roommate now that Elle has moved out. Besides, we can get it annulled in six months so it will be like it never happened…”

“Sweetie, you’re a smart girl but you’re blind,” my mother sighed after a pause.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked accusingly.

“Never mind, just…” my mother sighed. “Are you sure about this? I love you, Catt, and Ben is a sweetie pie, not to mention reminiscent of a young, blonde Sean Connery…”

“Please no comparisons between Ben and James Bond. He likes that too much,” I sighed tiredly.

“It’s just that… I always imagined you getting married once and being head over heels in love…” my mother said dreamily.

“So did I,” I shrugged, “but Ben and I are good friends and I know he’d do the same for me. Besides, can you really think of anyone you would prefer me fake marrying than him?”

“How about that nice boy Jon you used to date?” my mother asked, totally clueless.

“It was a rhetorical question and Jon isn’t as nice as you think,” I sighed.

“Wasn’t he the one that brought your cupcakes on your birthday when you were sick that one time?” my mother asked.

“No. That was Ben,” I shook my head. “And they weren’t very good cupcakes.”

“You’re only saying that because you had strep throat,” my mother replied. “Well, see you on Saturday. And when you do annul this marriage, if in fact you do, please let poor Ben down gently. He seems so excited about the entire thing. Does he know you aren’t serious about it?”

“It was his idea,” I answered.

“Alright, alright,” my mother said. “See you on Saturday.” I put the phone down just in time for Ben to step out of the shower, put on his skull and crossbones boxers with a black undershirt and come into the kitchen, attempting to dry his sopping wet hair with one of my baby blue towels.

“Was that your mum?” Ben asked.

“Yes,” I scowled. “You invited my parents?”

“Well, you are their only child. I thought they’d like to see you get married,” Ben shrugged.

“It’s a fake wedding! And you’re your parents only son. You don’t see me inviting them up for the weekend!” I said.

“First of all, you don’t know how to get in contact with my parents,” Ben replied, “and secondly they wouldn’t listen to you if you even tried. And third, even if by some miracle you did contact them and they did listen, they wouldn’t degrade themselves to the point of flying out to Chicago to watch me slip a ring on your finger at City Hall.”

“I hate you right about now,” I hissed to him. “My mother is all upset. She thought you called to tell them we were engaged not getting married on Saturday.”

“Well, she didn’t strangle you through the phone, so I guess we’re good,” Ben shrugged. He then shook his hair dry like a dog does before continuing to towel off. “Did she take it well?”

“Too well. Which makes me hope my father castrates you,” I pouted. Ben laughed.

“He won’t do that,” Ben said. “As long as you’re not pregnant he won’t care. You aren’t pregnant are you?”

“Unless you lied about what we did last night, no,” I replied.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s going to miss out on child support,” Ben shook his head.

“Come on Ben. Us? With kids?” I snorted.

“We could have four. Two boys and two girls. And we could name them out of characters from Greek myths,” Ben nodded.

“You’ve put way too much thought into this for my liking,” I said.

“We can name them Hercules and Athena and Aphrodite and Odin…” Ben trailed off.

“Odin is from Norse myth,” I said.

“Okay,” Ben said scrunching up his nose, “how about Apollo then?”

“Go to sleep Ben,” I laughed. “You need it.”