It was at the reception that Josh spoke the first words that truly scared her.
The wedding, like the rest of Melinda's courtship, moved with a dreamlike cadence. People drifted in and out of her perception, events passed like objects whirling around the heart of a hurricane. Time, rather than connecting these happenings, separated them, split them into odd, unconnected vignettes.
Here she was, as if just awakened, getting married to a man she hardly knew.
It was only five months ago that they'd exchanged their first words across a conference room table.
Josh, the bright, new supervisor brought in from the company's Chicago office.
She, the eager, dynamic account executive just out of college.
Josh had handled his first meeting as if he knew every intimate detail, spoken and unspoken, about the clients and their business.
"I love an organized man," Melinda had said to break the ice after the clients left, and the others applauded her effort with nervous, restrained laughter.
Except Josh.
He'd looked at her with that baby face, those light brown eyes, looked seriously at her.
"Of course," he said finally. And that was the beginning.
Melinda had been surprised when, only a month later, Josh produced his ubiquitous black date book, bulging fat around the tiny clasp that held it shut, opened it and said:
"March 4. That's the day you'll marry me."
His handwriting was firm and clear even in the dim light of her bedroom.
"Oh, Josh," she sighed, burying her face in his neck. "I do."
As they finished their first dance, they were stopped by Melinda's aunt and uncle.
"Well, we've got to leave," said the uncle, hitching up his unnaturally brown polyester pants, his gaping shirt exposing flesh the color of suet.
"We're so happy for you, honey," cooed the aunt, pulling Melinda in dizzily for a too-tight hug. "You'll have to get your address to us when you settle in. Do you know yet where you'll be living?"
"We haven't had time to think about that."
"Well," said the uncle, who had been eying the exit. "You're both young. Take your time."
"I'm not worried. I have it all planned," Josh broke in solemnly, hooking his thumb back over his shoulder.
Melinda followed his aim as he said his goodbyes.
The head table lay in that direction, cleared of the dirty dinner dishes.
The only things left were two champagne flutes, an open bottle of Dom.
And Josh's date book, like a dark window in the tablecloth.
A chill scurried through her body.
Then, the whirlwind took hold of her again, tugged her along after it.
)
There are people who can't live without their date books. Josh is one of them. But his new wife wonders if he sets the dateBook or if the dateBook sets him ... literally. And even once she thinks she's gained control over him, has she really?
