Page 119 of The Marriage Narrative
She decided to bail him out again. “It helps if you don’t look her in the eye. That’s how she gets you.”
“Zinnia!”
“It’s the truth!”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect you two to look so much alike in person.”
“Uncanny, isn’t it?” she joked. “You met me at a good time. I used to look more like my dad until my face settled.”
“I would’ve asked first,” he said quickly to her mom. “But she didn’t want me to meet you yet.”
“Oh?” Her mom slowly turned to look at her. “Is that true, Zinnia?”
“Well, you know me. Always have to do things the hard way.”
Her mom sighed. “I already have the discussion snacks ready.”
Every single family meeting they’d ever had took place in the family room. They’d painted the walls robin’s-egg blue and decorated them with photos in sterling silver frames. Her parents were the only people she drew portraits of—she gave them a new one every year on their anniversary. They’d hung the most recent up, front and center, impossible to miss.
There was also an entertainment console with a TV and two matching love seats, suede and cream-colored. Zinnia always sat in the one facing the window and that day was no exception. Her mom placed the over-the-top vegetarian charcuterie board on the coffee table—hosting was a way of life in the Sims household—and sat down next to her dad on the other sofa.
Zinnia started at the beginning with her marriage-merger proposal and ended with arriving at the Zaffre estate. Jordan conquered his nerves, concisely explaining who his family was, what they did, and where they were now.
He reached for her hand as they invited her parents to their vow renewal ceremony.
“Well. That was quite the story.” Her mom raised her eyebrows and exchanged a look with her dad, who then said, “I’ll take him.”
He suddenly stood up and charged out of the room.
“Jordan, could you please follow Matthew?” her mom asked. “We’d like to speak to you individually.”
Zinnia sighed until her lungs were empty—much better than screaming. Her parents volunteered as marriage counselors at their church. “We don’t need to be counseled!” she argued.
But then Jordan kissed her cheek. “You know I love therapy,” he whispered, before running off to find her dad.
He would be into this. Granted, excitementwasan improvement from petrified. Even if he had no idea what he was getting into.
“Let’s go see Shelby,” her mom suggested. “She’ll be happy you’re home.”
They stopped by the kitchen to pick up the sizeable vegetable and fruit platter first. Shelby was their family’s sulcata tortoise. She had her own wooden hut but ran their backyard with an iron shell. Squirrels didn’t even visit anymore because she’d somehow found a way to run them off. Birds too.
“You’re a wife now. How’s it feel?” her mom asked conversationally.
“Pretty good. I’m sure it’ll get harder as time goes on.”
“Seems like there’s been plenty of hardship already.”
“Well, yes, but Jordan’s great. He gets me. He’s very committed to our marriage and our future.” She felt like she was reading a script. “I know it seems like he tricked me and suddenly whisked me away—”
Her mom held up her hand. Interrupting while someone was speaking was a Sims violation. Either you waited until the speaker finished or requested the speaker cede the floor.
“Go ahead,” Zinnia said.
Her mom tapped the hut twice, the signal to come eat, butShelby had always stubbornly followed her own schedule. She might decide to make an appearance if she heard them talking, though. That tortoise was surprisingly as sociable as she was mean.
“It’s not hard to see that all he did was point you in a new direction only slightly different from where you were already heading. I know a good feeling was more than enough to help you make up your mind,” her mom said. “What I don’t understand is why you felt the need to keep all this a secret?”
Zinnia used to hate the way her parents talked to her. Everything sounded understanding and the words were complimentary, but they used this matter-of-fact tone that felt like subtle condemnation. How could something so flat and without affectation slash at her like knives?
