An Arranged Marriage

She reaches out, her hand taking mine with a hope-filled smile. The warmth is comforting in a way I've never known. "Maybe we'll go to Germany together? We'll need a honeymoon, right?"

"I'd love that." I squeeze her hand, finally looking into her eyes. There's so much kindness and life in them. I'm grinning and flushing like an idiot, then realize there's a huge problem with the idea. "What about your school though?"

"We can go on break."

Of course. I'm being dumb.

I pull my hand away, still feeling absurdly shy and insecure with this woman, even if we'd just been starting to vibe. I hadn't expected her to be like this at all. One day I'd learn to see myself the way she saw me: six-foot tall, strong (if wiry), and lean with an American blend of German-Irish good looks, intense green eyes, a head of brown hair and a slightly dimpled chin. Of course, the manly stubble I'd grow in my later twenties and better haircuts would help, but I was already developing good taste in suits and pants that fit me well. On any other day, I'd have felt confident enough in my blue suit, blue-and-white floral-patterned button-down, and white tie.

Right now, I feel gangly. Scrawny even, in my own skin. Vampirically pale compared to her warm complexion, ready to turn strawberry red at the slightest hint of too much sun. It didn't help that I hadn't the first clue how I was supposed to be with her. A thought hits me like a piece of cold salami on the face. "Where do you live?"

"Dorms during school, with mom and dad in the summer." I later learned they lived in a cheap suburban home on the far south side of the city, whereas mine lived in a small town to the north in a McMansion. School was in a fashionable neighborhood near downtown. Of course she lived on campus. Duh.

"My lease is up in just under two months. I know that's really soon, but if it helps we can find a place near campus together. Most of my work can be done on the computer, so no commute. Probably a lot more comfortable for you." I swallow down a nervous shake while trying to be bravely chivalrous. That's a huge step to take with a stranger, even if we are married. Maybe we'll get a two bedroom, just in case.

"That's really sweet. I'd like that."

"You don't have to, of course, but I wanted to offer." I don't know why I felt like I needed to make sure she had an out when she already accepted.

"I said I'd like that." There was a slight drop in her tone. Maybe she was annoyed?

"Okay. Just making sure. I know this is all a lot." I shrugged and slumped a bit.

"It is. But it's a lot of good, right?" Maybe not annoyed. Maybe worried?

"Oh, yes! Very good!" I agreed quickly, trying to assure her. Hopefully not too quickly or too insincerely, because I really did mean it.

There was an awkward pause of silence, only letting the strangeness seep in a little more. Thankfully she broke the moment after only a couple seconds. "So, what do you like to get up to when you're not working? Or are you tied to the desk?"

I loosen up a touch again, a bit of a smile creeping onto my face. "No, not tied to the desk. I like to get out a lot. Hiking, biking, camping, you name it - or even just driving into the countryside a couple miles to listen to the bugs and birds and wind is nice. Nature inspires me a lot, but it's also just good to get out."

"Do you think I could join you sometime? Or is it a private thing for you?" She's smiling again. It makes my heart beat a little faster the way she smiles at me.

"You can come! I mean, I guess sometimes it's private, good to get away from people, but I'd be happy to show someone." I have a realization. "No one's ever been interested before."

"You've never been married before." She's got the biggest smile. She's actually interested!

"True." I grin back, feeling our vibes return. "I guess in general I'm pretty active."

"I like that," She said, a pretty smile still stuck on her face. "I want to be more active, but with school I only have time for Pilates class and the occasional run."

"Hey, that's really good. School makes it tough. Pilates is awesome." I get another brainwave. "Maybe I can run with you sometime for motivation?"

She lights up. "Definitely! You can be my personal trainer." There's a quick chuckle.

I'm stunned. I never thought I'd make a woman so happy like that. "Sure. Let's see... what else?"

"Do you play any sports?" She asks.

"No, not really my thing - watching or playing. Never got into it."

"That's fine. Me neither." She shrugged.

"I'd much rather watch a movie or read a book. Or play a video game."

"Absolutely - me too!" She bounces right off my answer.

"Really? Okay: favorite movies?" We're talking quick-fire now.

"Way too hard. Let's just say I'm a huge sucker for comedies and fantasy. You?"

"Can't disagree. Though I love weird arty stuff and sci-fi too."

"Nerd," She accuses with a grin.

"Guilty." I laugh, looking away for the umpteenth time.

"Okay, favorite video games?" She keeps right on going.

"I'm a big fan of open worlds and good stories. Though I played an absurd amount of Stardew Valley with my little sister earlier this summer before wedding planning took over my life."

"I love that game! Maybe we can play together? You know, we could get married in the game too." She laughs.

"Sure, sounds fun," I laugh along even if the reminder that we're married is a bit awkward. I suppose our bit of banter showed our parents really did their homework matching the two of us. They do know us well, after all. Still, I can't get over it - Elena is so pretty and fun to talk to it's making me stupid. Did mom and dad know I'd find her so attractive? The only girl I ever expressed an interest in was back in college. She was blonde and rather petite. Elena was definitely not that - I'd have never put the two of us together.

"You should know I haven't got a clue how to cook." She interrupts my thoughts, clearly anxious to reveal that little truth about herself.

"No problem, I like cooking."

"Wow, really? My mom always does the cooking. I just assumed..." She trailed off.

I smiled. She obviously has something of an old-school family too, and the expectations of a woman that come with it. I cut her off, "Really, it's fine. Mine too, which is why she taught me. I don't have a clue about Mexican or Colombian cuisine, but I've been learning to cook French lately, it's really hard..."

"Yum!" She cheers. "I'm sure my mom would talk your ear off if you ever wanted some recipes. She'll love it, actually."

I smile. "I'll have to do that. Maybe we can learn them together?"

"I mean, if you want to risk it. I tried baking mint chocolate chip cookies once and used peppermint oil instead of extract. Didn't realize until too late..." She ducked her head in the cutest way.

I grin, a chuckle bubbling up - who wouldn't when looking at that face with that expression? "Okay, that's kinda bad..." I can't help myself. I have to know. "What did it taste like?"

"Toothpaste."

"Yum," I echo her earlier glee with sarcasm. We both laughed loudly. Smart, gorgeous, fun, and confident? Good god, I was going to have a heart attack from how intimidating she was. Obviously mom and dad knew I'd fall for her, because who wouldn't? The problem was, how on earth did they think I would ever be good enough for her? Of course they thought I was already - I'm their son! But seriously, they had to have some sense of reality too, right?

Suddenly, the door banged open, and the bearded pastor with the Indian accent rejoined us. "Sorry about the wait, bit of trouble with the computer."

"No worries, James and I were just getting to know each other," Elena says.

"Good, good," the pastor replies, eyes suspiciously drifting from her to me as if we'd been getting into trouble already somehow. I mean, seriously? We're married! Admittedly, Elena's got playful trouble written all over her. "I've got the paperwork ready for you, whenever you're ready to sign it."

Right! The marriage certificate. We were married in the eyes of God already, now we were to be married in the eyes of the state. "Sure thing, now's good." I take the pen from the pastor, lean over the tiny desk, and find my name in two spots. There's a flicker of nauseous hesitation, but I push it aside and scrawl my name once, then twice. "Your turn." I pass the pen to Elena.

"Thanks!" She's still grinning. She grabs the skirt of her dress up and out the way from her feet before leaning over the form, and I notice she's actually wearing flats.

I swallowed, realizing I was properly taking in everything about her for the first time. She was tall - a graceful five-foot-eight-inches, maybe five-nine, tall. No, they're not flats, they're very low heels. So five-eight. Her body was lithe, certainly, but also womanly with a touch of athleticism. Her dress left only the skin of her face and neck and hands exposed, but fitted cotton and lace at her chest, waist, and just above her hips hugged lovely, modest curves. It was enough information to mentally sketch in more details that only made her even prettier.

"Done!" She announced cheerfully, turning back. "Party time?"

I agreed. "Party time!"

--

It wasn't party time right away. Instead, it was photo time.

Looking back on the photos, we honestly looked amazing together. Somehow we both projected a lot more confidence than either of us felt, probably helped out by the fact that we were now making jokes and getting to know each other a little more, and not taking it very seriously. Granted, all she had to do to look good was literally stand there and smile. If I had the confidence then that I have today, I'd have known I actually looked good too, that she was actually starting to enjoy herself too, but at the time it felt like I was just faking it, desperately trying to keep up with her and terrified of her finding out she was way out of my league.

The other thing that helped the forty-five minute photo shoot was the strong light of an early summer sun not long after noon, and the expansive gardens behind the church that seemed to be putting in every effort to outdo us with thick blooms in every direction you turned. Whoever kept the garden manicured wasn't paid enough. There must have been a thousand species of flowers, but also vines and colorful lichens climbing up carved stone faces.

Naturally, the photos show us kissing or holding each other in nature's absurd variety. It's strange looking back on those photos. I hardly remember taking them, maybe because we walked through those gardens together almost every Sunday afterwards. But, when I see them, we really looked like we were absolutely smitten with each other. I don't think it really happened that fast (okay, I was really taken in by her), we probably had good coaching from the photographer. Still, I've always felt good thinking about those photos as some kind of prophecy. That we'd really been blessed by God, and that we were setting out on a trailhead that would weave through an epic romance.

Okay, that's silly too, but I can't help it. Like I said, Elena made me a lot stupid then, and she still makes me a little stupid now.

--

It was a quick drive from the cathedral to the reception hall. In the ten minutes it took to get there, Elena and I dove right back into speed dating mode. She told me she'd briefly joined a sorority her freshman year, I told her I took music lessons for five years as a kid. I learned she's got a good voice when she started singing along to something on the radio, and she learned I'm into jazz. I asked her to go to a set at a café with me, and she enthusiastically agreed.

The simple flow of information was like having a dump truck empty its gravel payload into my brain, with the minor detail that all of it was about my wife still being the most mind-blowing bit. I felt stupid that it was easier to talk with her driving and me giving directions (we were an ace team for our first married collaboration, by the way), but hey! It was easier! I actually got out of my own head long enough to get it through my thick skull: she was having a nice time, even if she was a bundle of nerves just like me.

By the time we got to the reception, everyone else was already there, thanks to the time we needed to spend with the pastor, then the photographer. It was a chic event space nestled down in a wider part of the river valley, tucked into one of a number of patches of forest left standing around the city's outer suburbs. The white steel beams and giant glass windows let light in from every direction, warming the wood floors. Giant rolls of fabric in a half-dozen different brilliant colors draped over them brought a softness and life to the space that made the space feel vastly more expensive than it was, and it wasn't exactly cheap to begin with.

The reception venue was one of a handful of things I'd been allowed input on. The other big item I was allowed to steer food, and that second topic was the one that brought out my inner bridezilla more than anything. It was probably a good thing I hadn't known Elena's family was a american blend of mexican and colombian, or I'd have spent every waking minute the last few months feverishly researching national dishes and how to prepare them, endlessly creating test platters in an attempt to impress my new in-laws the day of. Instead, I'd gone with simpler dishes that were easy to cook (important, since I wasn't the chef). The menu: crispy herbed chicken, roasted squash, fried green beans with caramelized onions in brown butter, a colorful rice pilaf ( one with and one without spicy sausage), fresh cheeses, and even fresher breads made by the best of six bakeries I'd sampled. Simple, but full of deep flavors. The look on everyone's faces as they ate (especially Elena's) was well worth the effort.

Of course, we had mere seconds to ourselves before the two of us became an embattled keep caught in a horde of well-wishing family and friends. The first to lay siege were both sets of parents all at once. The strangest part of the encounter was finding out her parents and mine had become friends over the last several months while arranging the marriage. Here was my dad making bad jokes, with Elena's dad laughing at them, while our moms traded homemaking tips. Meanwhile Elena and I had just met. It could have been a comedic episode of The Twilight Zone.

There was no hiding the differences in our families, though. I only had to wait a minute before Elena and her mom, Camilla, dropped into an animated conversation in Spanish. Elena flushed with embarrassment from whatever was said, even if I couldn't understand it.

Meeting Camilla and Elena's dad, Diego, it was trivial to see where their daughter's good looks came from. Camilla was also tall and thin, though somewhat darker-skinned than Elena. She'd aged impeccably, trading youth for a certain dignity and elegance just as beautiful, while holding onto skin unblemished by age and a sharp fashion sense demonstrated by a modest red dress. Diego, meanwhile, was nearly white-skinned and clearly athletic and strong in his younger days. His permanent smile left shallow around his eyes. Now, he immaculately kept salt-and-pepper hair and beard, and wore a dark, sharp suit with red shirt underneath. It was frankly adorable that they matched.

On the other hand, my mom and dad, Claire and Paul, were not coordinated. I knew their marriage hadn't always been sunshine and unicorns farting rainbows, but it would be a mistake to think that they didn't love each other deeply. All you had to do was catch the way my dad looked at my mom in her dark navy dress, or the way she adjusted his slightly cockeyed tie and closed his charcoal-gray suit. Say what you will about arranged marriages, but they seemed to work out notably better than self-selection with statistically relevant frequency - at least the way my faith performed matchmaking.

I hoped I wouldn't ruin those numbers.

We agreed to meet the four of them for Sunday brunch the following afternoon downtown, since we wouldn't be at church the morning after our wedding. There were plenty of reasonable allowances to miss services, and everyone knew this was one of them. We moved on, allowing them to continue on like old friends and permitting us to swim through more friends and family.

Next up was Elena's two older siblings and their spouses. While I was the eldest of my siblings, she was the kid of the family. I quickly learned neither her brother nor sister had an arranged marriage, which made me wonder why Elena had gone that route. She didn't strike me as the incredibly pious or staunchly old-practice type, and though her parents' marriage was also arranged, it wasn't in the zero-contact manner we'd just had. It must have been a choice, unlike with my parents.

I wondered if she was still happy with it.

As we get talking, there's an interesting undercurrent to the conversation. Her sister's husband doesn't seem particularly fond of the arranged marriage practice, even if he's come to accept some people choose it. Her sister seems to check a flash of irritation, doing what she can to keep him in check. Meanwhile her brother's wife seems utterly disinterested in everything and everyone, with her eyes rarely leaving her phone and the black rectangle seemingly glued to her hand. Her brother seems like a good man, though. Again, there doesn't seem to be a single ugly duckling in Elena's biological family, even if she's in a class of her own.

As we talk, it occurs to me maybe this arrangement wasn't Elena's choice after all. Perhaps her parents had tried allowing marriages of choice with her older siblings, and it hadn't worked out as well as they'd expected. Maybe they wanted to be certain Elena's marriage would succeed, but they had to know there was never any guarantee.

It was time to move on again.

Next up was a long-time friend of mine, Ethan, and his wife Rebecca. They'd had an arranged marriage the summer before, but they'd met each other numerous times before making a final agreement. That was much more typical than the way ours went. They weren't shy about sharing how good a match they thought we were already. I didn't understand how they could have so much certainty, but their faith in us was inspiring. That kind of encouragement, and getting to learn so much more about each other, really helped both Elena and I relax with each other. They've always been good people like that.

--

I must have met a dozen more of her family and friends, and she met just as much of my family before we finally got a chance to breathe. The reception was in full swing now, with people eating, talking, laughing, and soft music playing in the background.

"Hey, I need to use the ladies' room. Wait for me here?" Elena asked. It occurred to me we must have devoured the better part of three hours without any kind of consideration of simple human needs. Social obligations had been the more pressing need.

"Yeah, of course." I smiled as she reached and gave me a little squeeze on my hand. It was still such a strange mix of nice and awkward. Of course her departure didn't mean I got to have a break from the hailstorm of conversation.

"Hey handsome," a familiar, high voice teased behind me.

"Katie!" I grinned the biggest I had all evening. My little sister (younger of the two) and I were like peas in a pod. She was ridiculously sassy, and we loved the daylights out of each other. I immediately pulled her into a giant bear hug.

"Nice suit, James. Who picked it out?" She said once we let go of each other. She looked sharp in her black dress with her wavy brown hair in a clever updo.

"Oh, I narrowed down the options to a few myself, but my awesome sister made the final decision." We'd spent hours looking online together, picking out cloth, cut, style, and tailor. In return, I helped her pick out the dress and heels she was wearing now. Like I said: peas in a pod.