Gary Jenkins - The Hesitating Couple

For three days, Bill had tried to contact Faye, to no avail, telephoning her at work, at home, sending her a telegram, followed by several cards and a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. She would not speak to him on the phone; his written messages remained unanswered, and she gave her landlady the beautiful roses. Finally, on the fourth day, he walked into the stationers, just before lunch time, found her busy with a customer and waited, patiently, until she was finished.

“Faye… I have to see you… talk to you!” he blurted. “Let’s go to lunch!”

“I only have a half-hour off…” she said, coolly, not trusting herself to talk to him.

“What I have to say will take all of ten seconds!”

“Let’s get married!”

Faye blinked once at him, then stared, wide-eyed in disbelief of what she had heard; her heart skipped a beat, then began a trip-hammer pounding in her chest. It was something she had always wanted to hear, but now… now that it had been said and she was confronted with the necessity of making a decision, giving him an answer… she didn’t want it. God! She wasn’t ready! She didn’t know what to say. It had been thrust upon her too suddenly.

“I-I really wanted t-to wait.. for a while longer… b-before even thinking about g-getting married,” she said, uncertainly, “… I’m not ready… yet…”

“You told me that, already! I want to marry you, now! Will you?” He was emphatic.

Faye hesitated. “I-I can’t give you an answer… right now… I h-have to think about it…”

“Well… at least we can have lunch together! Come on, let’s go… shall we?”

Reluctantly, she went to lunch with him. After they had ordered and begun to eat, he slipped the diamond engagement ring on her finger, greasy from the cheeseburger she was eating. “Now… will you marry me?”

The ring took her by surprise. She gasped… and stared at it; finally, after long moments, she looked up at him and said, “Y-Yes… yes… Bill…! What else can I say…?”

“Say that you’ll marry me, right away… today!” he pressed.

“Oh, Bill… that’s crazy…!” Faye began.

“Then let’s be crazy! We can get in my car and go to Las Vegas… Now!”

“There’s so much to do… she protested.

“All right… we can get married, tonight!”

They weren’t married that night; it was the next evening that they stood in a small wedding chapel, in Las Vegas, exchanging the vows that made them man and wife.

Bill pressed her, constantly, presenting first one then a dozen more arguments, fielding her objections and wearing down her resolve to wait; finally, under the weight of his active campaign, she agreed, reluctantly, to their elopement.

He had telephoned his reservation for them, that same day, at one of the plush hotels. After the short wedding ceremony, and before going to their suite, they enjoyed a floor show and a couple of drinks. Faye dreaded the time when she would, finally, be alone, in a bedroom, with her husband, Bill. She was glad when he suggested the interlude of the show and drinks.

As she watched the consistently beautiful showgirls, performing half nude, provocatively, her tension built within her, her stomach churning. She was scared… absolutely petrified! I won’t know how to act… what to do… and Bill’s expecting so much! H-He’s experienced… I know he must be… and I… I really don’t know anything… about sex!

Gambling in Las Vegas is big business. Everything is set up to make it easy. Bill couldn’t resist the siren call; he drifted away to the gambling tables. He was there tossing the ivory cubes until three o’clock in the morning.

As he began to lose heavily his drinking became steady, a glass in his hand, almost constantly, until he was bleary-eyed drunk… and Faye left him there, sick at heart, went to their rooms, prepared for bed and tumbled into it bone-tired.

Bill, finally realizing through the alcohol-befogged cobwebs of his brain that it was his wedding night, dragged himself, staggeringly, away from the craps table, signed a chit for five thousand six hundred dollars – that Uncle Morris would have to pay and went to his room, where Faye waited for him, to claim his bridegroom’s rights.

Bill Wright awakened the following day, about noon, a terrific headache pounding inside his skull, painfully; his tongue was fuzzy wool, and the taste of his mouth was brown and evil. He lay in the center of the king-sized bed, nude, sprawled on his stomach, his flaccid penis stretched out, upward, under his abdomen. He felt the sensation of drying semen on it… so he knew he must have made it with Faye, after all. His memory was blurred. Christ! I must have really hung one on!

His eyes fluttered open, tentatively, the dim lighting of the bedroom instantly painful to them. He closed his eyes, again, and groaned. Reaching out across the big bed, he was going to embrace his new bride. His hand pawed only wrinkled sheets. She was not in bed with him! What the hell?!

He cocked an ear for sounds from the bathroom. Nothing!

“Faye!” he called. “Where the hell are you?”

Silence! There was only the muffled sounds, from outside the hotel, drifting in to him. He rolled over and sat up. The top of his head felt like it would split open to spew his brains out. It didn’t. Holding his head in both hands, he roared, “Faye!”

Crawling from the wreck of the bed, he wobbled into the bathroom, first. After a few moments, feeling better, he went into the sitting room of the suite. Faye was definitely not there. His bride of only a few hours had disappeared! I’ll be damned!

In the bedroom again, he sat down on the edge of the bed, his head cradled in his hands, attempting to keep his brain inside his skull. He groaned aloud. “Uuugh!”

Where the hell is she? What happened? I was so damned drunk… I can’t seem to remember… yet!

He raised his head to look around the room through eyes that refused to focus properly, searching for an answer, trying to jog his memory of what had happened on his wedding night. The note on the bedside table caught his eye, He had never seen her handwriting except when she had signed the marriage license, but he knew it must be a note from Faye. Savagely, he picked up the piece of paper to read the tiny, cramped words on it.

DEAR BILL, I COULDN’T STAND THE SORENESS ANY LONGER. I’VE GONE TO GET SOME SORT OF LOTION AT THE DRUGSTORE. BE BACK AS SOON AS I CAN. LOVE, FAYE

Christ! Was I that hard on her… that she’s got to get some medicine… or go to a doctor? Did I hurt her… or something? What a hell of a way to start a honeymoon! I must have been a miserable ass… last night!

He found his cigarettes and lit one, drawing the smoke into his lungs and instantly detecting the acrid taste of the tobacco in his already foul-tasting mouth. At least, she’ll be back! For a little while… I was beginning to think she had left me! He heaved a sigh of relief.

Padding into the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and gargled; rinsing his mouth, he picked up the cigarette again, and inhaled the smoke, gratefully. It tasted better, now. He began to pull on his clothing, and even thought about shaving… before Faye returned.

Now, slowly, his mind began to function, again; memories of last night rather the early morning.. started to come back to him. Christ! I must have gone off my rocker… acted like I was nuts, or something… when I came in last night! No! It was this morning… must have been after three!

He had his shorts and pants on, now; going into the bathroom, he drew a basin of water and took out his shaving things. Looking hard at himself in the mirror, he saw the after-effects of fatigue and too much liquor. More of the pieces began to fit into place.