A Little More Than Convenient

|Carmen Remington|
I signed my name to the marriage license. My name was now Carmen Isabel Remington. That felt really strange. And I mean, really, really strange. Ever since Kindergarten, I’d penned my name as Carmen Sanchez. I’d always loved the way the S and the Z twirled around. My mom taught me to write them by saying, “Twirl Z left to right, and S right to left. S is for a snake that curls, and Z is for a zebra that twirls. Now, yes, technically, zebras don’t twirl, but...you must admit that that rhyme is very cute. But, now, my name was Remington. There was no S, no Z, and unless I changed my name after we divorced, I’d never have a snake and a zebra. That was oddly upsetting.
After signing the license, we all went outside. Ross immediately lit up a cigarette and offered us all one.
“No, thanks,” Trent and I (not intentionally) answered in unison.
“I’ll take one,” Jessica reached out and grabbed one and let Ross light it for her.
“Jess!” I scolded, “I thought you stopped smoking!”
“Stommaifuome,” she responded, cigarette still in her mouth.
“What?”
She took a long drag and blew out. I coughed. I’m allergic to smoke. “I said that I only smoked occasionally to begin with. I didn’t even buy em,’ Carm, chill.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Is Ross done?” Ross asked.
“Yeah,” Trent replied.
“Is Jessica done?” she mimicked (but not in a rude manner).
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Ross is leaving,” Ross said, in turn.
“So is Jessica.” They waved and we thanked them. Trent and I exchanged awkward glances and I blushed.
“So...,” he said.
“So...,” I repeated.
“Um...”
“I was wondering,” I began, “where are we gonna live. My apartment only has one bedroom, and it’s really small. Plus, I owe on it.”
“Well,” he began, “mine has a master bedroom and a guest room. It has two and a half bathrooms. You could sleep in the guest room, but we have to make it appear as though we’re sleeping in the same room.”
“None of that’s gonna occur, though, is it?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Of course not. This is business, and you know what they say about mixing business with pleasure.”
“No, what do they do say?”
“I actually don’t know. I just know that it’s a bad idea.”
We both laughed. “I guess we can go to my apartment, and get my bare necessities, and get the rest later.”
He nodded. “Sounds good to me.
***
“This is it,” I said, “my shitty little apartment.” Before we’d gotten married, I’d tried to be careful about cussing in front of Trent, but now that we were married, there was really no reason to.
He laughed. “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.”
I shook my head. “Anyway, I’ve made a mental note about stuff I need. Clothes, shoes, paperwork and briefcase, toiletries, some food, DVD’s, books...,”
“Those are the bare necessities?”
“Yes, well, besides the books and DVD’s. But, I’m only bringing certain ones. I can’t go a day without reading Nicholas Sparks or Sophie Kinsella, and I have to watch Rugrats, Glee, or Just Married every day.”
He stared blankly at me. “Rugrats? The cartoon?”
“Yes! Besides, I need constant stimulation.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, which was when I realized that my comment sounded very sexual.
I blushed furiously. “Of the brain, I mean. Not that I have a dirty mind, you know.”
He chucked. “You’re interesting, you know that?”
I ignored him and said, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I ran to my room and got some bags and suitcases. I handed him a purple tote bag and pointed at my bookshelf. “Find all my Nicholas Sparks and Sophie Kinsellas. Then, look in my cabinet and find Glee seasons one and two, Rugrats seasons one through nine, and Just Married.”
He took the bag and began to search my bookshelf.
I got to work on putting my clothes into my suitcases. I made six piles: casual, underwear, pajamas, professional (for work), dressy (for church, when I went), and miscellaneous. I folded them all and put them in the suitcases. When I started in on my shoes, I heard Trent call my name from the front room.
“Yes?” I yelled back.
“Can you come here?”
“How come?”
“Just, come here!”
I sighed, but obeyed. “What is it?”
He held up a book. “What is this?” he said, cockily.
A gift from Jess. A book entitled: Passionate Endings: An Erotic Novel, with two men, and a woman lying in bed together. I blushed for about the billionth time.
“Well, see, Jessica got that for me, but I-” I stammered.
“Did you read it?”
“No,” I lied.
“You did! Carmen Remington, I had no idea you were so naughty!”
Carmen Remington. Besides the judge, he was the only person to call me that. And it was, by the way, still weird.
I turned around. “Have fun finding my nonsense. Oh, and if you find a special DVD, my ex-boyfriend left it over here.”
“Sure,” he whispered.
Seriously, that DVD wasn’t mine. I might’ve watched it with him, but it was only because he wanted me to. I thought it was a bit disgusting. And the only reason I read that erotic novel was to see what happened in them. And because I had nothing else to read. I swear I’m not a closeted sex-aholic.
I finished organizing my shoes and got my bathroom supplies, which, honestly, didn’t take long. My work stuff was in my car, so all I had left was my kitchen stuff. I gathered up Ramen Noodles, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, a bottle of Brandy that my dad gave to me, some Hershey Kisses, chicken nuggets, tater tots, pizza rolls, and two liters of coke. I’ll admit, I’m a bit of a junk food nut.
I gathered all of my bags into the front room
“All done?” Trent asked.
“I think so,” I replied, “are you ready to-”
I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I figured that it was Jessica, or possibly Lizzie. Hopefully Jess, since I wouldn’t have to explain any of this nonsense to her. But, being the lucky one I am, it was my mother.
Kira Sanchez is forty-five years old. She gave birth to me at twenty years old, exactly nine months after she and my dad got married. Actually, I was born three days before the exact nine month mark. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’ll bet that my parents weren’t chaste until they were married.
“Hello, sweetheart!” she exclaimed, hugging me tightly. Her grey-ish dark brown hair was freshly colored, and she wore a light green skirt-suit.
“Hi, Mom.”
She looked up and saw Trent. “And who is this, young man?” She didn’t sound happy. For some crazy reason, she thought I was a fool for dumping Christian, and she told me so quite often. Even thought calling someone a fool is a sin.
I took a deep breath. “Mom, this is Trent. Trent Remington.” I took another huge breath and said, “My husband.”