My only other option was to go home quietly until I figured out a way to come back to New York. But no, that wouldn’t work. I’d managed to keep my tax debt at bay while I was here. I owed a lot of money for me, but I guess not enough for the French government to come at me in another country. But if I moved home, there would be nowhere to hide. They’d find me, maybe not right away, but soon enough.
Besides, I had no idea if I could ever come back here. It was getting harder and harder to obtain work visas for the United States. Many international companies were giving up on trying to bring in employees from their foreign offices; the hassle wasn’t worth it anymore. I’d already had to go through months of paperwork before I could move here. Between the new immigration laws, being let go from my current job, and having no college degree, it’d take a miracle to make that happen again.
“I want to go home and do it there,” Cassie finally said. “The wedding, I mean. With my friends and everything. I want a white dress, drinks, dancing, the whole shebang.”
I should have asked myself why she was even considering helping me. Was it only about making her ex jealous? Did she expect anything of me? I should have been full of questions. Two years of my life were in the balance,as well as my entire future. But I felt so desperate, the ticking time bomb of my departure ringing louder and louder in my ears.
“That sounds wonderful,” I said, getting off my knee. I felt ridiculous staying down on the floor. She hadn’t said yes. But she hadn’t said no, either. “And you’d look so beautiful. I can picture it.” She smiled. “But I couldn’t wait that long. My visa expires next week. I’d have to get married as soon as possible. I could get in a lot of trouble if I stayed after it expired.”
Cassie pouted. “You mean, like, at City Hall?”
There was no time to go upstate, meet Cassie’s friends, and start planning a wedding.
“We’ll get you a dress,” I said quickly, coming to sit next to her and looking deep into her eyes. “And flowers. We’d have photos taken, obviously. I’ll book a restaurant with a nice view of the city.” I tried to make it sound romantic, when in fact I knew I had to make it look genuine. “And we could have a big wedding later on, if that’s what you want. It’ll be double the fun! You know, people do that in France sometimes. They do the marriage thing first at City Hall, and then have the party with everyone. You’d get to wear two different dresses.”
She pondered this silently for a while. Was she just waving the possibility in front of me like a stuffed toy dangling from the top of a carousel? I felt the urge to grab her by the arms and shake her.Say something!
But she didn’t, so I went on. “If you do this for me, I’ll owe you forever. I’ll do anything for you.” She perked up and opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “And of course, as soon as my green card application is in, I can get another job. I won’t ask anything of you.” And then at last, the words I meant the least came out: “You’re an amazing woman, Cassie. I know it’s only been a few days, but meeting you has been the bright light I needed.”
Finally, she put her empty coffee mug on the floor in front of the couch and leaned close to me. “So you’re coming home with me?”
I couldn’t help looking down at the cup. I knew she wasn’t going to pickit back up or put it away. Over the last few days, I’d felt a bit like her servant, making coffee, washing her mug after she was done, picking her stuff up off the floor, unclogging the drain after her shower. I couldn’t imagine the state of her house. Was I really going to live there with her? For two whole years? No, of course not. I’d convince her to come back here to New York, where great things awaited me, especially with Cassie’s fortune. I’d just go along with it for now.
“Of course I’ll come home with you. Like I said, I’ll do anything for you.Anything.”
I sounded so pathetic. It felt like an eternity before she moved and straddled me, her face so close that her coffee breath felt like it was mine. “Iwouldlook good in a wedding dress.”
***
It all happened in a flash. Cassie chose a light-pink fluffy dress, even though I wished she’d gone with the traditional (and more legit-looking) white. At City Hall, we picked a witness out of the assembly and exchangedI do’s with strained smiles. Pictures pictures pictures. Evidence for the immigration officers. Cassie never suggested sharing those on her Instagram account, and I’d assumed she was holding back for the bigger wedding I’d mentioned. Then, the deal done, two quasistrangers husband and wife. No going back.
The minute we returned to my apartment—after an expensive lunch during which she only picked at her food—Cassie made a beeline for the bedroom.
“All right,” she said, collecting her clothes off the floor. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” My voice was high-pitched; I couldn’t keep the surprise out of it.
I was at her mercy. Wehadto live together. I had to do what she said.
Cassie threw her things in her weekend bag. “Did I tell you it’s my birthday next week?”
She hadn’t. In fact, I had yet to realize how little I knew about mybrand-new wife.
A couple of hours later, we were making our way through Penn Station. It was all so rushed, but soon I’d have a green card and, let’s be honest, access to two million dollars. I’d booked an appointment with an immigration lawyer along with our slot at City Hall and had already filled out the forms that allowed me to stay here temporarily until my application was processed. It would all work out.
During the train ride, Cassie typed angrily on her phone, her nails clicking on the screen even louder than normal, while I stared out of the window. It was early May, but gray and misty. There were fields with cows roaming and farms built in dark-red wood just outside of Manhattan. Who knew?
When we arrived at our destination over two hours later, Cassie sent a few texts, grunted with obvious frustration, and asked me to get us an Uber. I was still too rattled by the sudden dash to wonder what that was about.
The ride through town did nothing to appease me. There was hardly anyone on the streets. Many of the shops were closed with faded FOR RENT posters taped to the inside of windows, one lone bar was announcing cheap lager for happy hour, and everything felt kind of muted. Bland. Half-dead.
We neared Cassie’s house, the inn. Maybe she could sell it. I’d handle the whole thing for her. I bet she’d like that.
It wasn’t a big shock after seeing the town, but the house seemed beyond tired. Some of the palings around the porch were broken, the shutters hung unevenly on each side of the windows, and a tree drooped so low that it obscured the whole left side of the house.
The front door opened as we got out of the car, and a woman about our age appeared. She stood on the porch, staring at us with narrowed eyes and pinched lips.
“This is Olivier,” Cassie said, wrapping an arm around my shoulderand beaming at me. She’d never pronounced my name so well before. “He’s from France. Funny, no?”
