I Married My Friend’s…

“No. It’s because you argue with him.”

“Only when he’s wrong.”

She laughed. “Exactly.”

Then one night, while Violet was upstairs helping her mother, Rick said, “Have you ever considered marrying for practical reasons?”

I looked up from my tea. “As in health insurance?”

“More like security.”

I waited for the joke. It didn’t come.

“You’re serious.”

“I am.”

I set my cup down. “Rick, are you… proposing to me?”

“Have you ever considered marrying for practical reasons?”

“Yes, Layla.”

That should’ve been when I left.

Instead, I asked, “Why me?”

“Because you’re intelligent,” he said. “Because you’re observant. Because you’re less impressed by money than you pretend to be.”

I let out a dry laugh. “That last part isn’t true.”

Then he said the sentence that cracked something open in me.

“You wouldn’t need to worry again, Layla. About anything.”

I let out a dry laugh.

But that was all I did, worry. About rent, bills, the cavity I’d been ignoring, and checking my bank account before buying shampoo.

I should have just said no.

Instead, I asked, “Why me, really?”

His eyes held mine. “Because I trust you more than I trust most people who share my blood.”

I told Violet later that night.

“Why me, really?”

We were in her kitchen; she was rinsing strawberries, and for one stupid second, I thought she might laugh.

She didn’t.

“He asked me to marry him,” I said.

The water kept running.

“What?”

“I know how it sounds.”