The fourth time he proposes she says yes. She’s come to the conclusion that she doesn’t want to die alone and her kids like him well enough. Why not get married?
It’s supposed to be small. The two of them and the kids in the courthouse. But he wants a best man, so that’s Dwight, and Dwight wants to bring Angela. Before she knows it he’s invited almost everyone he works with and she scrapes together a couple bridesmaids from the PTA. It’s nothing glamorous, not like her first wedding, with the flowers and the big white dress, but it’s nice.
Just like Michael.
She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like him. He’s sweet and he’s so good with the kids. Tommy thinks he’s hilarious. She knows that in a few years he won’t laugh so hard at Michael’s jokes, but she tries not to think about the future too much.
The right-now is more important.
--
They don’t have a real reception, but Michael invites everyone over to their new house (she found one they both like, a roomy building with plenty of space for the kids…more space than they really need, but what’s wrong with space?) and he barbeques (or Jim barbeques, but Michael stands over his shoulder the whole time, like a sports commentator, playing the expert). She eats standing up, balancing a paper plate in her left hand. When she gets a streak of barbeque sauce down the side of her dress it doesn’t really matter, not like if she was all decked out, but she makes a fuss anyway, and Michael’s so nice about it, practically licking it off the fabric.
She knows she could do better. She’s not an idiot. But she’s tired of Saturday nights alone and selling real estate. Michael tells her she doesn’t have to keep her job if she doesn’t want to—“Equality of…women. That’s what I’m all about. I love the ladies…and their…opportunities.”—and she’s always wanted to be a stay-at-home Mom. Michael wants them to have kids together, but she doesn’t know how likely that is. She’s almost 43 and well past a point in her life where she gives a damn about her biological clock. She’s said “we’ll see,” but she’s still taking her birth control pills.
All of Michael’s employees are really nice, nicer than anyone she works with. She’s met almost all of them before, but she’s never spent much time with them. Phyllis tells her all sorts of gossip about people she barely knows in a confiding half-whisper—“Jan, you know Jan, right? Well, rumor has it she and Toby are getting married! It’s so exciting. I just love weddings.”—and she coos over Pam and Jim’s six-month-old daughter, Lucy.
It’s a nice night, when the sun sets the stars are set clearly across the sky and the kids are worn out by nine thirty. She puts them down in their new bedrooms and goes back to join the party. Michael’s making a toast. As he finishes and waits for laughter that doesn’t come she steps up beside him.
“To the present,” she adds. “And a fresh start.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
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