The Housemaid’s Wedding: A Short Story

It takes me about two seconds to walk across the sidewalk to where the bald man is standing. Enzo is hurrying after me, calling my name. On the plus side, I have entirely forgotten about the evolving frostbite in my ears.

“Millie!” he cries. “Please! I love you. Your parents do not matter!”

But I don’t stop until I am right in front of the man in the dark suit. Close enough that I can stick my finger in his face. I want him to know that I’m not afraid of him. I don’t care how many times he calls me or what threats he hisses into the phone. He will not intimidate me.

I’m Millie freaking Calloway, and I’m not afraid of anyone.

“Listen to me, you piece of shit!” I spit out at him. “I know who you are!”

His eyes widen, and I’m surprised by the bright-blue color. “You are Millie Calloway, aren’t you?”

“Damn straight!” I grit my teeth. “And I just want you to know that whatever I did, I did for the right reason. And if you think you can threaten me, you better think again! I am a lot tougher than you think I am, buddy.”

The bald man blinks rapidly. “Yes, I know you’re tough. You saved my sister’s life.”

I freeze, mid-diatribe. That is not what I expected him to say at all. “I… what?”

The man’s lips twitch into a shy smile as he squeezes his hands together. “I’m so glad I finally got to meet you.” His eyelashes flutter again—a nervous tic. “My name is Paul. My sister… Her name is Diana Widmayer… Dee… and she was in a terrible marriage. Her husband would have killed her for sure, and he had buddies on the police force. Dee was trapped. You helped her get away.” His eyes fill with moisture, and a single tear escapes from his left eye. “You saved my sister’s life. We owe you everything.”

Dee Widmayer. Of course. I remember her from about a year ago. I remember the bruises all over her arms and legs and back, where her husband thought nobody would see them. “Is Dee doing okay?”

“She is. Thanks to you.” He reaches out to clasp my hand in both of his. “When I saw you, I just had to tell you how much what you did meant to us. If there’s anything you ever need… anything I could do for you…”

Okay, I believe this guy isn’t the one who has been threatening me on the phone. Unless he is an Oscar-winning actor, his gratitude is genuine. Those tears are genuine and on the brink of spilling over.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I blurt out. “I’m just glad your sister is okay.”

“Actually…” Enzo clears his throat, inserting himself into our little moment. “There is one favor you can do for us.”

Paul’s eyes light up. “Of course! Like I said, anything you want.”

“Millie and I are about to get married,” Enzo explains, “and it turns out we have no witness. Do you think you could…?”

Paul beams. “It would be my honor!”

Enzo winks at me. “See? I told you we would find a witness. And as for the something old…” He looks over at Paul, who is eagerly straightening his tie in anticipation of the ceremony. It’s sort of adorable. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

Enzo leads me away from the other man, who looks so harmless right now, it seems embarrassing that I could have thought he was the threatening caller. Enzo stops when we are out of earshot and flashes me a conspiratorial smile.

“I know you were hoping for your mother’s necklace,” he says, “but I want to give you something instead that belongs to me. It’s something that means a lot to me, and it would mean so much to me if you would hold onto it during the ceremony.”

I frown at him. “What is it?”

Enzo digs around in his pocket for several seconds, which is long enough for me to start to worry. He always carries this old pocket knife his father gave him with his initials engraved on it—does he want that to be my “something old”? I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if he whipped that out, but I am not carrying a knife during my wedding ceremony. Plus, they have metal detectors at city hall.

But instead, he pulls out a small turquoise item. He holds it out in his palm, and I realize that it’s a butterfly pin.

“This belonged to Antonia.” His voice breaks the way it often does when he says his sister’s name. It’s because of Antonia and what her husband did to her that Enzo and I are together in the first place. “My mother gave it to her as a little girl, and I found it in her jewelry box after she was killed. I carry it around always to remind me of her. And… I want you to hold onto it during the ceremony.”

“Enzo…”

“Please.”

I don’t protest again. He reaches out to pin the tiny butterfly to the fabric covering my shoulder. The color suits the dress perfectly, as if I had picked it out to match.

“There,” he says. “Now you have something old.”

“Thank you,” I breathe.

“So.” He lifts his dark eyes to meet mine. “We may get married now?”

I allow a smile to touch my lips. “We may.”