All of Me

“We’re painting the gazebo, dumbass,” Marty answered, pretending not to know what he was talking about.

“Aren’t you a billionaire? Why do you need to save money by not hiring someone to do this manual labor?” Barry asked, huffing a little as he carried his ladder. His bald head was already gleaming with sweat in the warm spring sun.

Marty chuckled. “We, as billionaires, must keep in touch with our roots. A little hard labor keeps us grounded.”

Barry dropped the ladder, the crashing jarring a passel of birds in the vines nearby. “Hard labor is for the birds.”

“Ha ha,” Marty fake laughed at his pitiful joke. He set his ladder up near the entrance and began assigning areas. “I’ll take the front and side, Barry, you’re in charge of the back and other side, and Marcus, you’ll start on the inside. Do the high stuff first so we can do the floors last.”

Marcus and Barry nodded and set up in their designated spots. Before climbing the ladders, they gathered the supplies and divided them up. The gallons of paint and all the paraphernalia of painting had been delivered the day before and waited for them at the gazebo.

“White?” Barry asked. “How cliché.”

“Shut up, man,” Marty chuckled. “Let’s get started so we can be finished early.”

Before walking into the gazebo to start painting, Marcus stepped to Marty’s ladder and leaned on it. Marty lifted an eyebrow. “I can’t climb it if you’re leaning on it.”

“I’m going to repeat my earlier question,” Marcus said. “What the hell are we doing?”

Marty tilted his head, confused. “I answered you. Painting the gazebo.”

“Marty, you told me you didn’t want this wedding at your house. When you agreed, you said you didn’t want anything changed.” Marcus looked around at the vineyard, noting the differences that had already been wrought.

“Yeah, I know. This wedding has been a disaster from the beginning. Nothing has gone right, but finally things are going well.” Marty leaned on the other side of the ladder. “Diana finally found a dress, and even though I don’t like the changes, they’re done. It’s all cosmetic work now, like painting the gazebo.”

“Are you happy?” Marcus asked.

“I will be when this is over,” Marty admitted. “I’m ready to be married to Diana, but she refused to elope or go to the JP, which I thought was stupid. So if I can just get through this wedding, I’ll have what I want.”

“Get through the wedding?” Diana interjected, her hands holding a tray with a pitcher of beer and three mugs. She set it down carefully, her frown of anger almost frightening. “And stupid?”

Marcus sidled away with the excuse of helping Barry at the back of the gazebo. Marty ran his hand over his head and cupped his neck, his face screwed up. “I guess you didn’t hear what I said before that.”

“Does it even fu*king matter?” Diana hissed, her hands on her hips.

“If you’d heard it it would matter.”

“You don’t want to get married?” Diana asked heatedly.

“Of course I want to get married,” he sighed, frowning at her. “You’re blowing one comment way out of proportion.”

“Or are you just pissed because you didn’t get your way?” she asked loudly, pointing a finger at him. “And I’m blowing nothing out of proportion. I heard you!”

“Diana, you know how I feel about the renovations. You shouldn’t be shocked when I say them out loud,” Marty replied, his voice raising as well.

“We agreed, dammit! I made damn sure you were here for every change made! And you complain to your friends that I’m stupid and you just need to get through the wedding!” Diana yelled, her anger snapping.

In a calm voice, calmer than he felt, Marty said, “Can we please take this inside? I don’t like fighting in front of people.”

“But calling your future possible wife stupid in front of them is okay?” she asked sarcastically.

Marty threw up his hands. “I did not call you stupid, dammit. You only heard part of the conversation.”

“The part where you called me stupid,” she retorted, growling. She spun around and stomped to the house, but not before Marty saw the tears glistening in her eyes.

“Fu*k,” he mumbled, kicking the dirt.

Barry and Marcus walked up to him. “Aren’t you going to follow her?” Marcus asked.

“Yeah, but she needs a minute,” Marty told them.

“Sorry, man,” Barry murmured.

Marty shrugged. “We’ll be fine. Always are.”

“You fight a lot?”

“Not until we decided to get married,” Marty informed them with a chuckle. “How do people do this?”

“Usually the dudes let the chicks handle everything. The guy should apparently have no opinion whatsoever,” Marcus told him.

“Yeah, I guess,” Marty grumbled. “I’ll be back.” He hurried up to the house, and when he turned back, Marcus and Barry had started climbing ladders to paint. Grateful for their friendship, he stepped inside and called, “Diana?”

She didn’t answer, and Marty sighed. He had learned that when they fought, which was rare, if she yelled it out with him, the argument ended quickly. But if she gave him the silent treatment, the argument could last for a couple of days. The woman could hold on to a grudge the way a hawk holds on to a mouse it’s captured.

“Diana?” he tried again. No answer. He made his way through the house, searching for her, and when he was in their bedroom, he heard her car start. Frowning, he looked out the window and saw the taillights of her car heading down the driveway. His shoulders sagged. “Well, sh*t.”

*****

Of course Diana knew he hadn’t called her stupid, just her actions, but her feelings were hurt nonetheless. And he said he need to just get through the wedding? What the hell did that mean? Tears flowed nonstop down her cheeks, and when her phone pinged beside her, she considered ignoring it. She couldn’t do that, though, because it made her feel guilty if he was worrying about her.

            MARTY: Babe, where are you going? We need to talk about this.

            DIANA: Getting fitted for my dress. We can talk when I get back.

            MARTY: Ok. I love you.