Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Four

I woke up on the morning after my twenty-fifth birthday with no more than three hours of sleep under my belt. I'd had no party, cake, or dinner celebration. Instead, I stayed up most of the night packing my apartment and setting up my new phone which had miraculously arrived on time.

I was scared to look in the mirror, feeling that there was certainly drool on my cheek and hair sticking up at odd angles. I probably look like I've been eaten and then spit back out by a swamp monster. I feel that way also.

I rolled over to check the clock. Six in the morning. I can fit three hours worth of packing into an hour and a half, right? The longer I thought about it, the less I was going to get done, so I begrudgingly dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the shower.

I know Melody implied being smelly might deter my future husband, but I could not stay all gross like that for even one more second. I couldn't even remember the last time I had showered. It was quite possible that it was before Melody's wedding. Gross. I definitely need a shower.

It was only after I was clean that I realized I had packed all of my clothes the night before. I ripped the tape off one of the boxes and grabbed whatever was on top of the pile before taping the box back together. With my hair pulled back into a braid to dry, I made myself a sandwich to eat while I finished packing everything I owned into the remaining boxes.

When I finally taped the last box closed at 8:45 AM, I was back to dripping sweat and almost certainly looking and smelling like the shower hadn't happened at all. Fifteen minutes wasn't really enough time to do it all again, though, so I settled for changing my shirt and washing my face.

I sat down on the couch, ready to go, with ten minutes to spare. I'd never been packed and ready to go before the moving crew arrived. I was almost always the person still packing while her furniture was being hauled out of the house.

Oh. My furniture. Am I supposed to take that or leave it? What happens to it if I leave it? Can I leave my stuff to someone with like a marriage will or does it get lost or sold or something?

I pulled out my notepad to jot down all of the questions so I could ask whoever was in charge of this mess to answer them, once I figured out who that was. I also sent an email to my parents with the same questions, hoping they might help me settle that matter after they forced me to marry someone I did not want to marry.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around, I was anxiously sitting on the edge of my couch, twisting my scarf in my hands and barely resisting the urge to pace the length of the apartment. Just before the clock would have rolled to 9:01, I heard two sharp taps against my apartment door.

Taking a deep shaky breath, I pressed my hands into my thighs to steady myself and walked over to open the door to my apartment.

"Hello." I smiled and let the moving crew in. I didn't even have the door all the way open when they pushed past me. The smallest one was barking orders at the rest of them as I tried to keep track of what was going on.

"Umm... hello?" I tried to get their attention when the smallest man took a break. "I'm Aubrey and this is my house. What exactly is going on?"

He waved me off and continued to direct the crew. Rude. I was about to ask again when a young woman with a fancy clipboard and fancier heels walked through the door.

"I'm so sorry, Aubrey." She extended her hand toward me. "I was delayed by a small logistical matter, but it is all sorted now. Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?"

I looked down at her perfectly manicured pink nails and pristine white suit, not really knowing how to process what was going on. Somehow I managed to nod and walk over to the couch. Only seconds ago, I had been sitting in the same seat alone. But I was about to embark on a lot of moments like that: sitting somewhere surrounded by people I had just met. Probably feeling very alone.

"Perfect," she said, perching on the edge of my couch and grinning ear to ear. "I just have a few documents to share with you and then we will get you over to the driver to go see your new home and your new husband." She was practically bouncing as she talked.

Her words were spinning around in my head, taking longer than they should have to sink in and produce meaning.

"This is absolutely the best part of my job," she interjects, pulling me out of my thoughts. "I'm so excited for you!"

That makes one of us.

She was clearly oblivious to how green I was feeling, because no matter how much I wanted to throw up, the woman was all pep. If I wasn't trying so hard to keep down the little bit of food I had managed to consume, I might have been able to focus only on her and convince myself something exciting was about to happen.

The peppy woman, who had told me her name at least twice by that point, opened her leather clipboard and rifled through it before handing me a double sided piece of legal paper. She passed it over to me as though she were giving me information about a free cruise I'd just won.

"This is the contract for the moving company. They will, of course, be paid by your parents. You're welcome to read the information, but basically if they break anything, it will be replaced or fixed at no cost to you. It's all very standard."

I'm sure it is standard. The problem is, I've never hired a moving company before, so I have no idea what standard is or what the contract should contain. Usually my parents just handled it. Which I guess is happening right now.

Undeterred by my silent blank stare, the peppy woman bounced to her next task, pulling another stack of paper out of her clipboard. "This is your contract of sale on the apartment we are currently in." She looked around before continuing. "It's very nice, by the way. You have excellent taste."

Without thinking, I said, "Why? Do you want to buy it?"

She laughed at my joke, but she was laughing at everything so it was really hard to read her actual emotions and opinions. I sat there, staring into space and not really absorbing anything she was saying as she handed me three more contracts of some sort.

My interest was piqued, however, when she handed me a yellow carbon copy of a contract that actually answered one of my questions. According to the document, anything I left in the apartment would be packed and placed in a storage facility. My parents paid to store my things for a year, during which time I would be able to access the container as often as I would like.

The thought of still being in this a year from that day seemed completely outrageous, so I didn't even consider what would happen when the year was up.

At least when this is all over, I can still have my things. I only looked up from the contract when I noticed a giant stack of paper being slid towards me. It was so thick that it had to be held together with an industrial staple.

"And finally..." She held out the inch thick stack of paper toward me and urged me to take it. "Here is your contract of marriage."

"My what?" I asked, knowing perfectly well what she had said, but hoping that it wasn't true.

"Your contract of marriage." She smiled and pushed the file closer to me.

My hands shook as I reached out to took the document from her and flipped through the pages. There is so much in the document that it would surely take me three lifetimes to read and understand the whole thing. How am I ever supposed to agree to something I can't even finish reading?

The peppy woman was still talking as I thumbed through the contract. I was almost certainly missing useful information as I turned the pages of the document, but I couldn't seem to focus on anything but my heart beating in my ears.

Finally, I got to the last page and my eyes searched for the signature line. My saving grace. Maybe I could stall on signing it or sign it with the wrong hand or spell my name wrong or something.

It only took me a second to find the line.

Oh. No.

Instead of a line waiting for my signature, I found it already signed. By my parents. Honestly, I'm really not sure if I'll ever speak to them again.

My arm grew heavy and the contract slipped out of my hand, falling to the ground. The world swirled around me and everything went dark.