Married at First Sight

"I don't smoke that much," he said. "Is it really that big a deal?"

"How much is 'not that much'?" she demanded to know as she finished off the bottle.

"I don't know. Less than a pack a day or so."

"Oh, my God! You smoke that much every day?"

Owen didn't answer.

"I can't believe this," Reagan said as she set her empty glass down.

"Do you have a problem with alcohol?" he asked trying not to sound accusatory.

"Don't change the subject. I don't wake up and start drinking and drink all day, every day," she replied. She'd consumed most of bottle within ten minutes and she didn't seem drunk. Owen knew it took time to hit the brain, but that was still a hell of a lot of booze to down that quickly.

Not a word was said the rest of the way to the hotel but the camera in the car never stopped filming. This was going to make for great TV!

When they arrived at the hotel, they were met at the front door and shown directly to the honeymoon suite. Reagan tossed her bouquet of flowers on the king-sized bed and went straight for the mini-bar. She found a cordial-sized bottle of vodka, unscrewed the top, and chugged it. "Reagan, seriously. Slow down, okay?" he said.

"I'll slow down when you quit smoking!" she said reaching for another.

"Can we talk about this?" he asked trying to not only slow her down but calm her down.

"I see nothing to talk about. Smoking is deal breaker for me. My God! I can't believe they did this to me!"

"So...what? You're just gonna walk away after one day?"

"Yep. And you can sleep on the couch tonight. There definitely won't be any consummating going on with us. Tomorrow I'm asking for an annulment," she said before tossing back another.

"Can I at least get you something to eat?" he asked as nicely as he could.

"I'm fine," she said without looking at him. "I want to change now so can you go in the bathroom. No, wait. You'll be wanting to go out on the balcony to smoke again, huh?"

That was true. Owen opened the sliding glass door and just before he stepped outside Reagan said, "Let me guess. Another cigarette, right?"

"I told you I smoke, Reagan. What more do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. Don't say a word. Just go kill yourself. I'm going to bed," she said caustically.

When Owen came back in, her wedding dress was on the floor and Reagan was already under the covers. He'd seen her go into the bathroom then come back out. She was wearing a very cute, very sexy nightie and all he could do was shake his head knowing she was untouchable.

He also noticed a third small bottle on top of the mini bar before going to the bathroom himself. He undressed, brushed his teeth, then grabbed a pillow from the bed along with a spare blanket and sat on the couch in the dark room and stared at the wall.

Sometime around 2am he tried laying down but still couldn't sleep. Reagan was snoring loudly and the noise was so bad he couldn't have slept even if they'd had amazing sex and things had gone perfectly. Mercifully, he finally crashed sometime after five and slept until around 9:30 when he heard her ordering coffee from room service.

He opened one eye and looked over at her. She still looked very nice to him, but he could tell she was she really hurting from the night before. What he couldn't tell was whether last night was out of the ordinary or if she might be a functional alcoholic who could drink like that and still get up and get through the day until she could drink again.

She looked over at him and said without emotion, "Do you want coffee, too?"

"Yes, please," he told her as he forced himself to sit up. He stumbled to the bathroom and tried to will himself alert as he peed. He didn't normally shave in the morning, but he was hoping the hot water might help so he lathered up and got rid of the dark stubble on his face.

He pulled on a pair of sweats then headed outside. Reagan didn't say anything. When he came back in, the coffee was there, but she didn't offer him a cup. He poured his own then sat back down on the couch.

He couldn't remember coffee ever tasting so good as he took two quick sips. Maybe fifteen minutes later he went back for a second cup and as he was pouring it, Reagan said, "Do you want to talk?"

He finished then went back over to the couch. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"I'm sorry I lost it last night. It's just that smoking is so...disgusting to me I couldn't deal with it. I mean, I've been dreaming about the perfect wedding since I was a little girl and then I got selected as a finalist and you...." She glanced quickly at him and added, "You were just so handsome. I couldn't have been happier and then I find out...you know."

"I understand," he said. "Reagan? I want you to know I really wanted to get married, too. And I want to stay married. Look, I'm willing to work very hard to make this work out. I just need to know that there's something to work hard for." He paused then said, "Is there? I mean, are you going to ask for an annulment no matter what? Are you even open to trying to make this work?"

She finally looked over at him. "I wanted to get married SO bad, Owen. I really did. I was so tired of trying to meet the right guy only to learn they were players or cheaters or slobs or...whatever. I don't want to throw in the towel, but to me, there are few things worse than a guy who smokes to me. I don't mean to be hurtful. That's just the truth."

"I'm not Tom Cruise listening to Jack Nicholson, so I can handle the truth. Thank you for being honest with me. If we're always honest with each other then maybe we can get through this."

"Not if you keep smoking," she told him. "I'm sorry Owen, but it bothers me that much." She looked over at him and said, "I'm sure you think I'm a royal bitch, but there are just some things like that which are deal breakers for me. Smoking, men who abuse women, child molesters, cheaters."

"Wow. So I'm on par with child abusers in your world. That's good to know, Reagan."

"I'm sorry. I know that sounds horrible. Well, it was horrible. Okay, smokers are nowhere near as bad as child abusers. That was an awful thing to say, and I can assure you that's not what I meant. I was just looking for examples of things I couldn't accept in a husband. How about...crossdressing instead as a better example?"

Owen managed a laugh and said, "Good news. I don't have any interest in that. Besides, at six feet, I'd look pretty ridiculous in a dress and heels."

Reagan tried to smile but couldn't quite pull it off. Her head was pounding and she felt like shit. She looked away again and drank some coffee. "To tell you the truth, I feel a little bit like hypocrite right now."

"You are?" he asked. "What are you saying? Do you secretly smoke or something?"

"No, never. It's not that," she said as she looked at the bed between her crossed legs. "I'm sitting here complaining about what you do, and yet I got totally smashed last night. I only drink like that when I'm either incredibly happy or incredibly angry. I've only done that a couple of times before. One when was when I graduated from college. Another was when my little brother died four years ago from cancer. So I overdid it at first out of sheer happiness and then when I...found out...I got so angry that I kept drinking because I didn't know what else to do. I mean, I do like to have fun, but I almost never drink like that."

Owen looked over her and he said, "I'm very sorry about your brother."

Reagan looked back at him then said, "I am willing to try if it'll save our marriage. I don't know you at all, but I do know I'm now married to you and I also know I want to stay married—for life—if possible. So if getting beyond this is what it takes then...I'll try. But you have to quit smoking or cut way, way, way back. It's that big a deal to me, Owen."

"I promise you I will try—hard. I'm so relieved you're not giving up on us," he assured her.

"Thank you, Owen," she said managing a first smile.

She sat there for a while then asked, "Why did you start smoking?"

Owen heaved a heavy sigh then said, "I'd kind of decided I'd never talk about this to anyone, and I was hoping against hope you wouldn't ask me. I even had a cover story all ready to go in case you did. But...I really like you, Reagan, and I'm not going to start our marriage off with a lie. So...I'll tell you the truth and let the chips fall they may. I mean, until a couple of minutes ago, you were seriously planning on having our marriage annulled so.... I don't see how this could make things worse so...here goes."

Reagan turned on the bed to face him as he began to speak.

"This is really hard for me to talk about because I thought I wouldn't ever have to do so again, but as painful as it is, it has to be said."

"Go ahead. Just tell me. I promise I won't judge you or criticize you. Just be honest, okay?"

"I will," he told her. "Okay, well for as long as I can remember I've had this...thing...for attractive women who smoke."

Reagan made a face indicating that made no sense to her at all, but she didn't speak.

"Yeah, I can only imagine how that sounds. I've only told two other people about this before. One is my best friend, Art...."

"The laid-back guy with the nice beard?" she interjected.

"Yeah. That's Arty-Art who let a fart...."

"And blew the whole damn cart apart?" she said trying to smile.

Owen did smile and said, "Oh, so you do know him?"

Her head hurt terribly, but she couldn't help but laugh. "He seems nice."

"He is. He's a bit of a stoner—I'm not, by the way. I never get high. But he's a really great friend."

"I don't use drugs of any kind," she said. "Well, other than alcohol and I'm paying for it in the worst way this morning. Sorry. Go ahead."

"Anyway, we've been best friend since fourth grade and he knows my little secret. So did my ex-fiancee."

"Whoa! You were engaged before?" she asked as she suddenly sat up straight. She reached over and poured herself another cup of coffee then said, "I had no idea."

"I'm sure there are a lot of things we don't know about each other yet."

Reagan smiled weakly at him and he continued his explanation.

"Anyway, I told her about it after we started getting serious. We were talking about turns ons and turn offs and well, this is by far my biggest turn on." He looked at her to see if she was still with him. "Thank you for not being judgmental, by the way." She smiled and he continued. "Her name was Beth, and so was really beautiful. Just like you." He had no intention of ever telling her Beth was truly gorgeous while Reagan was maybe beautiful. She'd certainly looked beautiful for their wedding, but even then she was no Beth.

"Ahhh. Thank you, Owen."

"It's true," he said and meant to the degree he'd stated it. "Anyway, I told her about this...thing...I have and we were only 19 and we were both just...really in love, you know? She asked me a whole lot of questions about it and she wanted to know if I'd ever smoked. I told her I hadn't and she asked why not since I was so interested in it. All I could think of was that it wasn't something I was interested in for myself, but that I was very turned on by seeing attractive girls smoke. I didn't really understand it back then, all I knew was it was this huge turn on for me."

"What did she say to that?"

Owen smiled as he remembered the conversation. "She laughed. Then she asked me a question. 'So are you hinting around that you want me to smoke?' I felt silly after she asked me, but I was also really turned on just thinking about it so I told her the truth. 'Yeah, I'd love that.'"

"So did she?" Reagan asked trying to wrap her brain around this 'thing' of his.

"Not right away. She told me she'd be willing to try it but only if I'd do it with her. Honestly? I'd never once even thought about trying it myself."

"You just want to kill off the women you love, right?" Reagan asked trying to sound playful. When Owen didn't laugh or even smile she said, "Sorry. That was just mean."

"She asked me about it a few days later and said if it was that important to me, she'd be willing to try it but only if I did it with her every time she did."

"Let me guess. You both got hooked and couldn't quit."

"In a nutshell, yes. It took several weeks of smoking like once or twice a day and then gradually smoking a few more each day to get addicted, but yeah, we both started really liking it. I remember so clearly when she told me she really enjoyed smoking for the first time, and that's when I asked her to marry me. I know that sounds absurd, but it's the god's-honest truth. I'd been planning on proposing for some time, but when she shared that with me, it sealed the deal right then and there."

"I'm almost afraid to ask what happened."

"About two months after that, she was going home after spending the evening at my place and she...."

Reagan could see Owen was having a hard time talking. He took several deep breaths then said, "I lived in Chicago back then and my apartment wasn't in the best part of town, you know? On her way home, a couple of guys jumped out from nowhere when she was stopped for a red light, pulled a gun, and told her to get out. The kid that shot her was high on meth and when she didn't move fast enough, he pulled the trigger. Twice."

Reagan got up and sat next to him. "Jesus. I'm so sorry, Owen. That's...horrible. My God, what kind of animal does something like that?" She saw a tear in the corner of his eye and reached for the napkin next to his coffee cup. "Here," she said.

He dabbed his eyes then said, "He just pulled her out of the car and threw her on the pavement like...garbage...then he and his buddy drove off. The police found the car the next day and a week later they caught the guys who did it. The cops knew who they were from a video camera that caught it all on tape, but they went into hiding for a while—probably until they needed more meth—and that's when the cops arrested them."

She put her hand on his forearm and said, "Please don't tell me you watched the video."

"I had to," he told her. "I had to know what happened." Another tear fell before he said, "I had to know for myself if she suffered."

"My God. Did she?" she asked.

"Not really. I know she was scared for a few seconds before...but she wasn't looking when this piece of shit shot her. She was just reaching for her purse. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I had to do it, Reagan."

"Jesus, Owen. I'm so sorry," she said laying her head on his shoulder. "That had to be incredibly difficult to recount. You must have loved her very much."

Owen took a deep breath, exhaled slowly then said, "Yes, I did. She's the only woman I've ever loved in my entire life."

"Your entire life. I don't even know how old you are," she said. "Will you tell me?"

"I'm 31. I'm turning 32 in two months."

"I'm 27 and my birthday is six months down the road. While we're talking, I'm the co-owner of a catering business. How about you?"

"I'm a software developer."

"Oh, like the guys on Silicon Valley?" Reagan was referring to a TV show that featured a group of young, male nerds. One of them developed a super-duper compression algorithm and together with the other guys, started their own bumbling software development company called Peter Pan.

It just so happened both of them loved the show. "Look at that! We have at least one thing in common," Owen said trying to be pleasant. He went to put his arm around her then decided to ask first. "Is this okay?"

She took his hand and pulled it down around her and snuggled up close. "It's fine." They sat there for a while in silence before Reagan said, "Did we make a big mistake agreeing to get married without even meeting first?"

"I prefer to think of us risk takers who just have a lot of work to do," he said playfully.

"That sounds pretty reasonable to me," she replied.

"I wanted to tell you I think you're very pretty and pretty...amazing."

She looked up at him and said, "That's because you don't know me yet."

"That's true. But I'm not afraid of finding out."

"You should be," she said wistfully. "Then you'd be the one running to the judge asking for an annulment."

"Come on, you're being too hard on yourself. I'm sure you have many more good points than bad, right?"

"I hope so. I can be pretty tenacious once I commit to something. But I can also be a real bitch."

"You don't strike me as being a bitch."

"Oh, yeah? Then why am I sitting here wanting to tell you not to leave your clothes laying on the floor again? Why am I already angry knowing you're about to tell me you need another cigarette?"

"I am pretty messy. Art calls my style 'organized chaos'. What can I say? It works for me."

"I'm a neat freak," she told him. "I want everything picked up and put away all the time. I compulsively straighten notepads on my desk. I organize my clothes by type and color. I even space the hangars three fingers apart. I have this...thing...where I expect the guy I'm with to know what I'm thinking and do nice things for me for no reason. My sister threw that in my face pretty hard a few weeks ago and I had to admit she was right. So yeah, I'm pretty much a bitch."

"But you can be a committed bitch, right?" he teased.

She hit him playfully then said, "Yeah, that pretty much sums me up."

"Are you committed to making our marriage work?"

She didn't answer for quite a while. "My mom and my sister are my best friends. My mom wasn't thrilled about this whole idea, but she's been really supportive. However, Meagan, my older sister, told me from day one I was an idiot. I hate admitting I'm wrong, but even more I hate admitting she's right." After another short pause she said, "There's no way I'm giving her the satisfaction of saying, 'I told you so!' by coming home the very next day."

She looked up at him and said, "I'm not saying it'll be easy, but yeah, I'm committed. I'll do whatever it takes to make this work if you'll commit to give up cigarettes."

"Okay, I'm in. It won't be easy, but then I've never wanted to quit before. Honestly? I never had a reason to. It's been like my only remaining connection to Beth," he told her as he looked down at her.

"Wow. Now I feel like a total asshole."

"Nah, you're just a bitch," he teased.

"Asshole!" she teased back playfully punching him in the arm.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you again, Reagan?"

"Not if you taste like an ashtray," she said honestly.

He reached for his pants in the pile of clothes and squirted two quick shots of breath spray in his mouth. "Better?" he asked.

She sniffed a couple of times and said, "Better." She closed her eyes as he leaned over to kiss her. This kiss wasn't as long as the one right after their wedding, but it had more meaning. "Wow," she said. "If you would just stop smoking."

Owen smiled and before he knew what he was saying came back with, "If you would only start smoking." He immediately threw up his hands and said, "I swear to God I have no idea where that came from! It just...."

Reagan pushed back from him and said, "Wow. Talk about your classic Freudian slip."

He apologized again then said, "I really do need to go out and smoke, but why don't we shower and get dressed then call Dr. Schweitzer? She said she could help us with virtually any issue and I don't see us going too far until we get passed this one big hurdle."

"That's not a bad idea. She did say she knew doctors, dentists, therapists, and ton of other people who could help any of the couples. It couldn't hurt, right?"

"I don't see how," he agreed.

"Okay, well, why don't you go outside and do your thing, and I'll give her a call. Then we can shower and get going."

Owen stood up and offered Reagan his hand. She stood in front of him and said, "I wouldn't mind a hug before you go outside."