Richard was there with his new wife, Victoria, and their daughter, Jasmine. Ila’s halfsister, apparently, who looked at Ila like she was gum on her shoe. “You’re really going through with this?” Jasmine whispered as Ila stood in the back of the chapel in a simple white dress. “Marry, that that thing? What does he look like?” Ila asked nervously. She hadn’t met Dawn yet. Richard said he was too busy to meet beforehand. Jasmine’s eyes went wide. “Girl, you haven’t seen him.” “Oh, honey, oh no, you’re not ready.” “How bad can it be?” Ila asked.
The music started. That was her cue. Ila walked down the aisle, her heart pounding, and then she saw him. “Oh, oh no, Jasmine was right. She was not ready.” Don Barrett stood at the altar looking like someone’s Halloween decoration that had been left in the rain for 3 years. His face was a disaster of scars, wrinkles, and sagging skin that looked like melted wax. His body was hunched and twisted. He leaned heavily on a wooden cane, trembling slightly like he might collapse at any moment.
And he was old, like ancient, like carbon- dated old. Ila’s steps faltered. $250,000. She reminded herself. Think of mom. You can do this. When she reached the altar, Don looked at her with roomy, watery eyes. “Hello, Ila,” he rasped, his voice like gravel in a blender. “You’re even prettier than your father said.” Ila tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Thank you. You’re um You’re very She couldn’t finish that sentence. There was no polite way to finish that sentence.
The ceremony was mercifully short. When it came time for the kiss, Ila closed her eyes and thought of England or medical bills. Same thing. Dawn’s lips barely brushed hers before pulling away. “Sorry,” he rasped. “I know this is unpleasant for you.” There was something in his voice, embarrassment, sadness that made Ila feel like a jerk for being so obviously disgusted. It’s fine, Ila lied. After signing the papers, Richard appeared with a thick envelope. Congratulations, sweetie, he said, handing it to her.
First installment. Take good care of your husband. Then he was gone along with everyone else, leaving Ila alone with her new elderly, terrifying husband. “Shall we go home?” Don asked, gesturing to a car outside. Ila nodded, following him out. That’s when she got her second shock of the day. The car wasn’t just nice. It was a Rolls-Royce. A literal actual Rolls-Royce. “This is yours?” Ila asked, her eyes bugging out. “One of them?” Don said casually as a driver in a crisp suit opened the door for them.
“One of them. How many cars did this man have?” As they drove through Atlanta, Ila watched the neighborhoods change from struggling to nice to obscenely wealthy. When they finally pulled up to a mansion that looked like it belonged to royalty, Ila’s brain shortcircuited. “This is where you live?” she squeaked. “This is where we live now.” Don corrected, his raspy voice gentle. “Come, let me show you your new home.” The mansion was insane. marble everything. Chandeliers that probably cost more than her college education.
Art on the walls that looked museum quality. Mrs. Barrett, welcome. A kind-l looking older woman in a housekeeper’s uniform appeared. I’m Sarah. I’ve been with Mr. Barrett for 15 years. Anything you need, you just holler. Thank you, Ila said weakly. Sarah led them upstairs where she opened a door to reveal the most beautiful bedroom Ila had ever seen. It was three times the size of her old apartment. “This is your room,” Don said, leaning heavily on his cane.
“I’m down the hall. We’ll have separate spaces. I won’t I won’t impose on you.” There was something almost kind in the way he said it. “Okay,” Ila said. “Thank you.” Don nodded and started to shuffle away, but then he paused. Ila, I know this isn’t what you wanted. I know you married me for money. I’m not naive, but I’ll try to make this arrangement as comfortable as possible. Ila’s face heated up. I’m not. I didn’t. It’s fine, Don interrupted gently.
I don’t blame you. Look at me. The only way a man like me gets a wife is by paying for one. I’ve made peace with that. He shuffled away before Ila could respond. She stood there feeling like the world’s worst person. Yes, she’d married him for money. But hearing him say it out loud, hearing the resignation in his raspy voice, made her feel gross. Get it together, she told herself. This is temporary. Just be polite, keep your distance, and in a year or two, you’ll be free.
Easy, right? Wrong. Because Leila didn’t account for one very important factor. Don Barrett was weirdly cool. The first morning, Ila came down to breakfast and found Dawn already at the table, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. In the daylight, he looked even worse. The scars on his face seemed deeper. His skin was discolored and papery. His hands shook slightly as he held his cup. Ila’s stomach turned, but she forced herself to sit down. Good morning, Dawn rasped.
