![Happy Marriage, By: Andrew Cyr](https://i0.wp.com/poetrycatalog.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/Happy-Marriage-By-Andrew-Cyr.png?resize=750%2C420&ssl=1)
Eric noticed a woman arguing with a clerk about a dress as he entered a store.
Eric told the clerk that the woman was with him. And it was his fault that she’d forgotten
to pay for the dress. The clerk sized Eric up. He told him to pay for it and that it shouldn’t happen again. Eric hoped the woman would use this expensive ballgown dress to make the toughest men melt like puddy between her fingers. Eric swiped his credit card, and she waited beside him as though it were true, as though they were a couple with plans for a night out.
Eric collected the receipt, and the teller covered the dress in plastic with a wooden hanger.
The woman held the paid-for dress. She fit her arm in Eric’s gentleman’s loop to guide her through the doors.
“You know,” the woman said, “you didn’t have to—”
“What’s your name?” Eric said, folding his arms with the eye, guessing an Angie or Martha.
Her gaze drifted down and away. “Jodie.” She lifted her eyes to his line of sight.
“I’m Eric,” he said as though she’d been dying to know.
Jodie moved her bangs from her eyes. “I…” Jodie choked back a lump in her throat. “I have a wedding to attend in two days.”
I motioned. “You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to.”
The sun trailed below the horizon, taking its rays and warmth, and the day yielded along for the ride.
“I ain’t got no one else to talk to,” Jodie said.
I reached for a cancer stick. “Mind if I?”
Jodie reached to grab herself a smoke.
We light a fuse and smoke in the parking lot over the conversation.
“My parents,” Jodie said, brushing tears. “They want me to marry this wealthy guy.”
Eric took a puff and blew the anxiety through his nose. “Then why did you need to steal?” Eric arched a brow. “I mean, if you’re rich…”
Dark clouds swirled in, and light showers turned into a downpour.
“Damn it!” Jodie said, shaking her fists. “Now, my makeup is going to smear.”
Jodie glanced at Eric.
He cracked a grin and shrugged. “I think it’s adorable.”
Jodie screwed up her face. “What?”
“Just what I said,” Eric said, tossing the death stick on the ground and twisting his sneaker over the butt. “I think you look terrific.”
Jodie offered Eric a seat in her car. “It’s nice to vent to someone.”
“Vent away,” Eric said, shifting his seat to give her undivided attention.
“It’s my fiance.” Jodie sighed hard.
“Don’t love him, do you?”
“My parents do,” Jodie said. “I—”
“But you don’t?” Eric said as though he’d solved her problems.
Jodie paused. “To be honest?” She shifted her teary glance to Eric.
“Be honest,” Eric said.
“I never loved him.”
“You wanted to please your parents?”
Jodie nodded and dapped her eyes with a tissue.
“If they knew how unhappy you were, would they be happy?” Eric said.
Jodie was lost in a trance as she stroked her chin and moved her head up and down.
Jodie giggled and laughed.
“What is it?”
“I got this dress because I wanted to piss them off,” Jodie said. “All of them. Mom, Dad, him, all of them.”
“Don’t marry anyone you don’t want to marry,” Eric said.
“Here.” Eric reached to wipe Jodie’s mascara. “He hits you, doesn’t he?”
“What gave it away?”
“You flinched when I touched you.”
Jodie’s eyes welled again. “I can’t take this anymore.”
“Then don’t,” Eric said. “Then don’t.”
“What would you do?” Jodie’s voice had desperation baked in.
“Before or after I stabbed him?” Eric said, her face straight until she thought it wasn’t a joke. Then Eric cracked a smile. “Don’t marry him.”
“I’m thirty-nine,” Jodie said. “Who’s going to want me?”
“Well,” Eric said. “You could always be a maid.” He winked. “Or, better yet, you could live as a nun.”
Jodie laughed to tears. “I’ve never laughed this much in years.” Jodie let out a sigh she didn’t know existed.
“Then live your life with someone who can make you laugh.”
“What’s your story?” Jodie said. “Married? Kids?”
“Never married,” Eric said. His eyes softened. “I had a fiance, but she died in a plane crash five years ago.”
Jodie placed her hand on her heart. “I’m so sorry.” Jodie raked her fingers through her hair. “And here I am, spilling my guts when you lost—”
“She made me happy.” Eric’s voice cracked.
Jodie opened and then closed her mouth, fishing for words of comfort.
“And you should be happy, too.”
Jodie leaned over, cupped Eric’s cheeks, and kissed him. “Maybe we could be happy someday,” Jodie whispered.
Three years later, I married the shoplifter. And happiness enjoyed a house in our home.