CH 102
Liz flopped into the plastic seat next to Dave and held up their line ticket, making him snort a laugh. "You waited for that number," he accused.
"I let four people go ahead of us," she grinned. "Further proof that no one should ever let people like us sign legal documents unsupervised."
Dave put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned her head against him, closing her eyes against the harsh fluorescent lighting while an Oasis song played faintly around them and the other people waiting in the county clerk's office. They sat in silence for a while when Liz abruptly rammed her elbow into Dave's ribs.
"Ow! Goddamnit, Liz!"
"I just remembered you almost killed me on the bike yesterday," she said casually.
Dave rubbed at his sore side and glared at her. "That was the only way I could get you to pull over," he protested. "And I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think you're an excellent rider, I knew you'd stay on the shiny side."
She looked at him for a beat before opening her mouth to reply, but a window opened up and their number was called.
"Sixty-nine!"
"Worth it!" Liz giggled and hopped up.
She held Dave's hand as they walked to the window and smiled kindly at the small woman behind the glass partition. She looked a little like Anne Ramsey, which made Liz homesick for Oregon and her worn Goonies DVD, and wore a name tag announcing her name was Bernadette.
"Hi, Bernadette-," Liz started, but the woman roughly interrupted her by speaking into the metal microphone attached to her desk, suspiciously eyeing her and Dave's joined hands.
"It's Bernie. Annulment or divorce?" her voice wafted through the glass as well as projected through a small speaker to their left, giving her a strange delay effect.
"Uh... Annulment, please."
"Reason?"
"Icelandic moonshine?" Liz shrugged and Dave looked down at his shoes to avoid laughing while Bernie glared over her bifocals at him.
"Lack of understanding to consent," she said firmly, sucking all the levity out of their immediate area and reaching for a stack of papers beside her.
"Whoa, wait," Liz dropped Dave's hand and put her face close to the small holes drilled into the glass so Bernie could hear her clearly. It didn't matter what the phrase 'lack of understanding to consent' meant in reality, Liz knew that it once the legal notifications hit the media the word consent would be twisted so far beyond its original meaning that Dave would ultimately end up branded as a predator. It would hit the tabloids the very second it became public record, which could be in a month, in a day or in a couple hours depending on how well oiled the Vegas annulment machine was, and their age difference would be front and center, making a complete mockery of their relationship. They didn't have time to get back to LA to prep statements, contact managers, assemble lawyers... there just wasn't time.
Bernie sighed deeply, "Look, if you're drunk, you can't consent. Legally, the place shouldn't have married you in the first place."
"What are the other options? Are there other options?" Liz felt herself getting desperate. The minor inconvenience of walking three blocks off the Vegas Strip to get an annulment was fine, dealing with the media once they announced that her and Dave had a drunken 'fake' Vegas wedding was okay, but she wasn't sure he could recover the 'Nicest Guy in Rock' status if it seemed he coerced his much younger girlfriend into marriage and she wasn't about to be the cause of that.
"Is this Thomas Jacob Black person ordained with the state of Nevada?"
Liz looked back hopefully at Dave, who just nodded at her with an apologetic smile.
"Then all you've got-," Bernie slammed her elbow on the desk and held up her fingers, ticking them off as she spoke, "Lack of understanding to consent; also known as the inability to monitor your own alcohol intake; underage, fraud, insanity, previous marriage-"
"That! We have those!" Liz glanced back at Dave again.
Bernie sat back in her government-issued ergonomic chair, "If you aren't already divorced, that would be bigamy and you'd both be arrested."
"No... no, no," Liz laughed nervously as her eyes darted to the bored looking state security guard in the corner. "Just a couple of previous divorcees looking for an annulment. Can we translate drunken stupor to insanity?"
"Is he impotent?" Bernie dropped her eyes to Dave's belt buckle and Liz awkwardly cleared her throat.
"I'm so sorry, Bernie. I think I misheard you."
Bernie readjusted the metal microphone causing a loud feedback squeal to echo around them and a silence fell over the crowded room when she yelled into the microphone, "Did you two have sex after signing the marriage certificate? Did you consummate your marriage?"
Liz leaned her elbows against the small counter in front of her and covered her face in her hands while Dave spoke loudly, looking around the room to make sure everyone that was staring could hear him, "Yes! More than once! Several times!"
"Okay then," Bernie went on, her voice quiet again, "your only option for an annulment is lack of understanding to consent." She pulled the paperwork from a folder next to her and slid it and a pen through the gap under the window. "Come back to me when you've finished filling this out."
*
They sat together on a wooden bench in the hallway and stared at the wall ahead of them. The annulment paperwork lay in the space between them, still unread and unsigned after almost a half hour. Nothing had been said since they left Bernie's window and Dave was desperate to know what Liz was thinking. Their conversation on the way to the clerk's office had been brief and light, assuring one another that this didn't change anything, it was just a minor inconvenience in the big picture that was their life together and someday soon they would laugh about it. Though to him, it still stung to know that she didn't want to be married... not right away at least.
He jumped when Liz suddenly snatched up the paperwork and began to read it over, dragging the pen tip across the words. Her decision obviously made, he slumped forward afraid and angry that he might cry at any moment. He let out a shaky breath as she began to sign and watched her out of the corner of his eye. He had seen her sign autographs before and always thought they looked a little like an EKG readout; a stylized E followed by what might be interpreted as a C with some sharp lines in between, but this legal signature was like something straight off the Constitution. Maybe she had taken a calligraphy course, maybe she had just read too many old English novels, but she was signing with the steady hand of an artist. His eyes drifted to her shoe when she began to nervously bounce her leg, shaking the bench they were on and realized her pen had stopped midway through her middle name. With his heart in his throat, he jumped again when she slammed the paper and pen back down on the bench, yanked her phone from her pocket and began to pace the hallway they were in.
"Hey Soph, it's Liz... I'm okay, how are you?... Good. So, listen. I'm sorry to call on a Sunday, but I'm in Vegas and-..." she covered her eyes with her hand as she listened and squeaked out a hesitant, "Yes, I did... I'm sorry, Sophie. It just happened and honestly, it was going to happen soon anyways and I tried to avoid all of this by getting an annulment, but... Soph, I just can't and-... wait, do a what?... " Dave watched her grab the paperwork off the bench beside him and unceremoniously jam it into a tall silver trash can. "Okay well, we're headed back tomorrow morning so I'll let you know as soon as we..."
He didn't bother listening to the rest of the conversation, he just threw himself at her and sent them both into the wall, shoving the phone away from her face so he could kiss her.
*
"Last barbeque at the rental!" Taylor announced and slapped Dave on the back as he stood in front of the grill. "You gonna miss our mornings out here on the decks?"
Dave chuckled at that. "Am I gonna miss seeing your balls every morning when you do your weird naked yoga? Hell no. I'll still give you the finger when I get the mail, so it'll feel like nothing's changed."
Taylor smiled and took a sip of his beer. "It's not yoga, jackass. I'm just stretching."
"Whatever. I'm sure whoever ends up here after me would appreciate you putting on pants, though."
Taylor lightly swatted Dave's ribs with the back of his hand and leaned against the patio table. "Shane said that Violet finally came around on the whole wedding thing."
Dave shuddered a little at the memory of Violet storming off when he and Liz broke the news. The others were thrilled, especially Jack and Ophelia, but Violet's little outburst had definitely put a damper on Liz's mood. "Yeah, Liz took her out to lunch yesterday and they hashed it out. I think an afternoon off from school helped sweeten the deal, but we're cool again."
Taylor offered a quiet nod in response, then watched him fuss over the meat and veggies on the grill for a bit until he started getting antsy. "Al said Liz is all set for next week." It was his delicate way of bringing up the fact that things were starting to get real and Liz would hopefully be pregnant very soon.
"Oh, she's primed and ready to go," Dave muttered bitterly. The myriad of medications and injections she suffered through every night were one thing, but the fact that she was off limits until the transfer appointment made him crazy. They had just gotten married and all he wanted was fool around with his wife, but no. The most action he'd had in days involved sticking a needle in the side of Liz's ass to prep her body for Taylor's babies. Only five more days. "Thanks, by the way."
"Sorry, dude," he laughed. "I know you're newlyweds, but it's only for a few weeks."
Dave's spine snapped straight and he spun around to look at his best friend. "Wait, what?"
Taylor's beer bottle slipped from his lips as he frowned in confusion. "She didn't tell you she can't have sex for like three weeks after the transfer?"
Dave very carefully set down the metal tongs he was holding, followed by his beer. "Hawkins, I'm giving you a ten-second head start. I suggest you take it."
Taylor mimicked Dave's intense calm as he set his own beer down, then took off like a shot across the deck and down into the backyard with Dave close behind, yelling all the way.
"You can do other stuff!" Taylor yelped. "You said yourself that she's really good at-"
His voice was halted by Dave snatching him up by the back of the board shorts and launching him into the pool, then diving in right after to hold him under for a beat. They wrestled and fought in the water until Dave caught sight of Liz up on the deck watching them with amusement.
"What the hell are you two doing?"
Dave held Taylor under again, his entire body lurching about as his friend fought against him. "We can't have sex for three weeks? When the hell were you going to tell me?"
Liz waited for Dave to release Taylor, his blonde head popping up as he took a gasping breath and tried to swim away, but Dave wasn't quite done with him yet. He grabbed Taylor by the waist and yanked him backward, holding him tightly against his chest.
"Just as soon as we left the transfer appointment," she called down to them as Taylor repeatedly bucked against Dave. "But it looks like Taylor is taking care of things in my absence. Thanks, T! Oh and Dave, your mom is here."
Virginia slowly walked out onto the deck next to Liz and surveyed her son waist deep in the pool, fully dressed while holding Taylor in a very compromising position.
"Hi, Mom!" he yelled with a wave, only to receive a slow head shake in return.
*
"Liz, please..."
She didn't answer him, just dragged her suitcase behind her down the front steps.
"Baby, let's talk about this. Please."
Again, no answer. Her hair flipped over her shoulder as she threw her suitcase into the back of her truck and she shot him a glare.
"Baby, I love you. I'm so sorry," he stepped between her and the driver's side door hoping to stop her before she sped out of his life.
"Are you?" her green eyes were like fire, sparking with tears and anger at the same time. "Are you actually sorry?"
"Dave?" He watched as Liz's focus moved from him to the leggy blonde yelling from the front door. "Dave, let her go and come back to bed!"
The rest of his surroundings jolted into sharp focus. The burn of the hot concrete on his bare feet, the sheet gripped tightly around his waist, the sun on his back and his wild hair blowing in his face. He had done it again, ruined everything for a pretty face with a warm body that was eager and willing to spend a couple hours in bed before being shipped off with taxi money and a signed NDA. This was marriage number three down the fucking tubes because he couldn't or wouldn't keep his pants on.
"Dave..."
No.
"Dave, wake up."
Don't want to. I want to lay behind your truck and let you run me over.
He heard her heavy sigh, but only cracked one eye open when he felt her lips on his forehead. She was wheeling her suitcase out of their bedroom, fully dressed in jeans and her leather jacket and his eyes drifted to the clock on her side of the bed clicking over to 5:58 am.
Shit, she's leaving me.
He bolted upright and out of bed, running after her down the stairs. She stopped on the landing where he tripped on the last step, sending them both crashing into the wall behind her.
"Jesus, Dave!" she stared up at him wide-eyed as he held her face in his hands.
"Don't leave me," he gasped, desperately kissing her as hard as he could.
"I'm not-," she stopped to pry his hands from her aching jaw. "I'm not leaving you!"
He pulled back only a little, still not willing to let her go. "What?"
"I have to work today," she said quieter, realizing he had been having one of his vivid dreams. "Remember? I told you last night, it's the first day of principal photography."
"Yeah," he muttered, his heart still pounding from his dream. "Yeah, I remember."
"Okay," she whispered and craned her neck to kiss his forehead before pushing him off of her. "I'll see you at the house tonight."
He only nodded, shifting so that he was sitting on the landing next to a pile of moving boxes with his back against the wall. "Can you call me? Like if you get a break or something?"
She looked back when she made it to the lower level and flashed him a smile. "Sure. Try to get some more sleep, okay? I love you."
*
"Thank you so much for coming early," Dave said once he'd finished shaking the realtor's hand. Their appointment wasn't until 5, but Dave had asked if they could meet at 4:30 before Liz even left the film set.
"No problem at all," he smiled warmly and slid the large manila envelope across the counter. "Gate codes and keys are in here along with the closing documents. Just have her sign the pink highlighted areas and get them back to me by Friday. In the meantime, it's all yours."
They exchanged pleasantries and the realtor left, leaving Dave alone in the mostly empty house. He wandered around looking into each space, imagining what his life there would be like.
In the kitchen, he envisioned Liz singing happy birthday and carrying a cake full of candles for one of the kids; the two of them dancing slowly in the dark late at night when neither of them could sleep; her fumbling with the coffee maker half asleep at dawn during the mad rush to get the kids off to school.
He pressed his shoulder into the wooden arch that made up the dining room entrance and smiled at the enormous table he had custom made as a gift for Liz, imagining the loud and crazy holiday dinners with both of their extended families; simple weeknights eating with the kids, talking about school and homework; and just the two of them sharing a bottle of wine at the far end, quietly talking about their day.
Spinning around to the living room, now with a permanent grin and butterflies rising in his chest, he stood in the middle and pictured her napping on the couch with a dog; her standing on her toes on the top rung of a ladder to hang an ornament on their ridiculously tall Christmas tree while he nervously spotted her from below; her repeatedly tossing popcorn at his face as he tried to focus on a movie...
Skipping the formal living room and office by the front door, he took the steps up two at a time and ran his fingers along the walls wondering what photos she would hang on the landing.
Upstairs in each of the bedrooms, he could see the kids. Planets and stars hanging from the ceiling in Jack's room, trucks and construction vehicles littering the floor in Owen's, Beatles gig posters for the walls in Harper's, a mic and guitar set up in the corner of Violet's and the chaotic disaster that Phee's room always seemed to be.
But the master bedroom was his most favorite space in the entire house. It had french doors leading out to a little balcony just big enough for two chairs and a table, a bathroom with a huge soaking tub that Liz had climbed into fully dressed the first day they looked at the house and separate walk-in closets. Their bed was already assembled and positioned across from the french doors where Dave had insisted it be. He wanted to wake up every morning with the sun at the foot of their bed, where the red in her hair would glow against the white pillowcase.
He moved out to the balcony and was leaning on the railing, staring at the shop and thinking about her wrenching on a bike in there when a chime rang out from the lower level. From his spot, he could see the front door was deserted and looked around in confusion when Liz's truck cruised down the long drive and parked just beside his. Oh, right. The gate alarm.
Taking the steps two at a time again, he chuckled when she knocked. He yanked the door open, about to remind her that this was her house, but the sight of her in a grey fitted sheath dress and black heels ripped the words right from him.
"Hey," she smiled shyly from the other side of the door. "You wanna buy a box of cookies, mister?"
"Depends," he managed only after clearing his throat and took her hand to drag her inside. "What kind?"
"Oh, I've got lotsa kinds...," she mused, tossing her bag and keys on the kitchen counter before he pulled her out onto the deck. "Chocolate, peanut butter, those mint ones that everyone claims to love but are actually horrible, shortbr- oh."
She stopped at the sight of two teak chairs with deep red cushions set together on the wide part of the deck and a small table between them holding a bottle of champagne, glasses and a single flickering candle.
"Nice, David," she teased and let him pull her along, ignoring the second chair and choosing his lap to sit on instead.
"How was work?" he asked, reaching over to hand her a glass.
"Good," she thought as she sipped her champagne. "It was fun. JB can't wait to crash our first house party."
Dave chuckled at that and sat back as she leaned her head on his shoulder. He pressed his lips into her forehead and kept them there as he spoke, "Let's get that out of the way before we move the furniture in so he doesn't ruin anything."
She just smiled and closed her eyes, listening to the last of the birds sing before they retreated to their nests for the night.
"Oh shit," he muttered and shifted in the chair so he could reach into his pocket. "I almost forgot."
Liz grumbled at the movement, just wanting to sit in the quiet with him when he held her silver ring up in front of her, the same ring he had put on and then later tore off her finger back in Vegas.
"This is yours."
She didn't move at first, just felt the words rumble in his chest and stared at the band, thinking back on their silly little Vegas wedding until he twisted it just enough that the waning light caught the inscription inside. The engraving was in her Pops' shakey handwriting, done the night before his wedding to her grandmother in the mid-'50s.
Put it back on
"Dave?" she whispered, frozen against him. "Where did you get that?"
"Your dad gave it to me," he took her hand and eased it back on to her finger, then admired it for a moment. "Said I was the only man for the job."
She used her free hand to pull his face to hers and softly kissed him before dropping her head back to his shoulder. "He's right."
Neither of them were sure how much time had passed, but they sat together in an easy silence listening to the last of the birds and the breeze in the birch trees until the only light on the deck was from the little candle on the table beside them.
"Babe?"
Liz hummed her response, almost sound asleep on his shoulder.
"Do you feel like you're home?"
She picked her head up and looked back at the dark house, just the sight of it making her feel disoriented and out of place. It wasn't home yet. But then she turned back to him and slipped her left hand into his, their rings clicking against each other as she kissed him, then breathed against his lips, "Yep. I'm definitely home."
