Witness.
Never husband.
Never spouse.
Not until me.
Margaret opened another drawer.
“There’s something else.”
She pulled out a clear plastic sleeve.
“Larry asked me to keep this after your marriage was recorded, in case you ever came looking for me.”
Inside was a copy of our marriage certificate.
My name was there.
So was Larry’s.
And beside his name was the word:
SPOUSE.
I remembered how carefully he had folded his copy after our ceremony.
How he had asked the clerk twice where he needed to sign.
I had teased him about it.
“You’re acting like this is an actual wedding.”
For a moment, Larry had gone quiet.
Then he smiled.
“First marriage. Let me be nervous.”
I laughed then.
Sitting in that courthouse, I couldn’t.
Margaret took the chair beside me.
“Did Larry tell you why he wanted to marry you?”
“He gave me a reason.”
I explained the letter.
The story about burial arrangements.
His confession that he had made the situation sound more desperate because he knew I would help if there was a problem to solve.
Margaret listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she didn’t defend him.
“That wasn’t fair to you.”
I looked at her.
“He knew you would say yes to a problem,” she continued. “Larry was always much better at asking someone for practical help than asking someone to choose him.”
I looked down at his signature.
“What was I actually saying yes to?”
Margaret glanced at our marriage certificate.
“That isn’t my story to tell.”
