The Wedding Lottery

Random Chance

They were supposed to meet for early drinks at Cadenza. Nick loved the place and thought Helen did, too; she'd never bothered to correct him because she so rarely left the orbit of the hospital anymore, and she didn't want him to think she was boring. They'd been friends for a decade, best friends for the last seven years, and Helen still held this fear that someday, beautiful, glamorous Nick might realize what a boring, plain woman he had agreed to marry.

That's what she'd told her co-workers, her fellow residents at Mercy Hospital, when she'd left a little early that afternoon: she had to run to meet the man she was going to marry for a coffee. Most of them were a few years older, so they understood. Helen had turned 25 that summer, and she was still unmarried. That meant, unless she had a marriage license in hand by mignight on New Year's Eve, she'd have to enter the Wedding Lottery the next day. It was an appalling prospect, but one that Helen had neatly avoided.

Nick was the perfect solution. Charming, handsome, and completely devoted to his career as a correspondent for the Capitol Ledger, he had almost as little interest in getting married as Helen did. Oh, he'd dated off and on over the years; she could stil remember the dreadful man he'd brought to her place for Thanksgiving two years ago, a holier-than-thou philosophy professor that he'd met while doing an interview. After that fiasco, he'd sat at her kitchen table and said, "It will be a fucking relief to marry you."

She hoped he still thought that way. After all, only a few weeks remained until the marriage license was due. They were meeting today, in person instead of by phone or e-mail as they usually corresponded, because there were all kinds of practical details to work out. Helen assumed Nick would move into her apartment, temporarily, after they were married because her place was closer to the Metro trains and both her workplace and his office. They'd have to find a larger place, eventually, of course, but that could be undertaken once they'd figured out how it was to live together. They also needed to come to some agreements about the wedding itself. Helen wanted a quick, perfunctory affair in the chapel at Mercy; Nick seemed to think they should shell out a bit of money and rent a room at a restaurant or bar or something. 

In truth, Helen didn't really care, as long as it all worked out. She wasn't a details person. When her younger sister had gotten married, her mother had tried to draw her into the planning by sending her photos of the dresses, the color swatches, even the caniddates for the unity candle they would light at their ceremony. Helen didn't care at all for these romantic flourishes. Though of course she was pleased that Katha had found her soulmate (and with four years to go before her Lottery deadline), she didn't think it all needed to be celebrated with a multi-thousand-dollar party. She figured such touches were even more tasteless at a wedding like hers, one built on a solid foundation of friendship and platonic admiration but also one inspired by legal necessity.

Credenza was an indoor-outdoor cafe, which meant that now, in December, with icy gusts swirling between the downtown buildings, it was a very cramped space with a limited menu. Helen stormed through the empty patio, where the heat lamps had already been bundled up and chained to the side of the building, waiting for a spring day when the easy chill of the night might be held at bay under their warm glows. In 25 degree temperatures with a 15 mile-an-hour breeze, they were useless, as was the fleece jacket Helen had pulled from her closet that morning. She'd slung it over her standard-issue day wear, the clothes she put on only long enough to get to the hospital before she changed into scrubs: dark jeans, a well-worn cotton maroon turtleneck, and well-worn black leather boots. Why hadn't she thought to dress better for the weather? The answer was simple: she rarely stepped outside anymore, save for the few blocks between her apartment and the Metro station and the quick shuffle across the parking lot once the train arrived at work. 

Credenza was actually built right over the Navy Memorial stop, but Helen had needed to stop at an ATM on the way, so she'd stayed on the Red Line and ended up walking half a mile in the freezing weather to avoid paying an extra fare. That was another thing they'd need to talk about today, or soon: money. The law would require that they join their bank accounts upon marriage, and Helen didn't have much idea about what Nick's accounts would hold. She thought his job paid all right, if the trim clothes and taxi habits were any sign, but they'd never talked about it much. He had to know, though, that her own income at the moment was very low, though her future prospects -- assuming she survived residency -- would be much better.