She Never Had Time for Me

The moment I finished speaking, Theresa Reitz's brow furrowed.

"What now? I showed up, didn't I?"

I pointed at the county clerk's office, its doors already shut for the day, and kept my voice flat.

"They've closed."

She froze for a moment, then found her footing again, indignant as ever.

"I was only a few minutes late. I really didn't have time. Hector's stomach was acting up again. You know he has a chronic ulcer. When it flares up, he can't even get out of bed.

"He's home alone with nobody to look after him. We can get our license anytime. One more delay won't matter. I'll be on time next round, I promise."

I looked at her without a word. She was normally a woman of few words, but the second Hector Parsons came up, she never seemed to run out of them.

Today, for the first time, I finally saw it with clarity.

I stopped arguing and turned toward the car parked at the curb. She trailed after me, still listing off all the ways I was being unreasonable.

"Hector's parents left him in my care. I can't just abandon him. You're almost something like his brother-in-law. Doesn't that earn him a little compassion from you?"

But this was our seventh scheduled trip to get our marriage license. Every single time, Hector had called her away. He was moving and needed help. He had a job interview and got scared being alone.

Last time, we'd both made it all the way to the door when his call came in. Theresa had turned around without a second thought, saying he had a fever and couldn't be left by himself, and told me to wait.

I waited until evening. The office locked its doors. Every pedestrian on the street had already gone home for the day, and she never showed.

When I got back that night, we'd had a huge fight. She spent the whole evening coaxing me back into a good mood, swearing it was the last time.

I believed her. And today, she'd stood me up again.

I ignored her and walked around to the passenger side. The moment the door swung open, whatever thin hope I still had left shattered completely.

Hector was sitting there, cheeks flushed with color, dressed and groomed more carefully than I was for my own marriage registration. There wasn't a trace of illness on him. The ridiculous part was that he was cradling half a watermelon in his lap.

The second he saw me, he dropped his eyes, sheepish, and spoke in a weak little voice.

"Sorry, Zachary. My stomach's been killing me, and Theresa was too worried to leave me alone. That's why you two missed your appointment."

Theresa stepped in front of him at once, eyeing me warily.

"Zachary, Hector's really weak right now. That's why I need to take him to eat something. If you're angry, take it out on me. Don't scare him."

My gaze dropped to the watermelon, still cold enough to be sweating. I almost laughed.

"Theresa, I've had a bad cold for three days. Did you ever buy me so much as a single pill?"

She blinked, caught off guard, then answered without thinking.

"I've been swamped. When would I have had the time? Besides, didn't you already buy your own?"

Something in me went hollow with exhaustion. Whatever little time she had went to her job, and it went to Hector. None of it was ever left over for me, her own boyfriend.

I finally understood it: the Theresa who used to grab my hand just to cross the street had vanished, and I hadn't even noticed her going.

That was when Hector tugged at her hand.

"Theresa, that's not fair. You remembered to buy me watermelon, but you forgot to get Zachary any medicine? You should apologize to him right now."

Theresa laughed and begged off, squeezing his hand back.

"Fine, fine. Is it my fault now? Just sit tight and behave. If your stomach acts up again, don't expect me to fuss over you."

She walked around to the driver's seat, one hand braced on the door as she looked back at me.

"Hector wants to try this Cajun place for content. You can sit in the back. Let's go eat."

It was almost funny. Even apologizing to me, my own girlfriend couldn't take her eyes off another man.

"You two go ahead. I've got a cold. I can't handle anything spicy."

I turned and walked away, pulled out my phone, and sent a message.

[I lost the bet. I'll be back in two days. It's your call now.]