Full name. City of birth. Parents' names. Current job and address. Rattling of all this information in sequence feels like the worst first date Becky has ever been on. Especially since she technically has no answer to "job" and "address" at the moment – her final two weeks at her old job are up, and she reluctantly rattles off the family's home address for that question, since she still needs to secure her own house.
But this unromantic interrogation is not a date, it's only a laundry list of personal information that the city of Boston needs to know before granting a marriage license. After each answer Becky and Freen offer, the clerk behind the window types their response into her computer.
Freen taps her fingers on the counter, then leans close to the window of the registry office. "Do they ever let you out of there?"
The clerk ignores her and continues in a dry tone. "I'll need proof of citizenship status from both of you, as well."
Becky's stomach drops. She hadn't considered this hurdle. Before she can so much as ask, Freen pulls out a passport. A U.S. passport. "I figured you'd need to see this."
"You're a citizen?" Becky blurts.
"My mother was born here."
"You never mentioned that."
"Oh my god," Freen says. "Did you think this was a green card marriage?"
"No, I just..." Becky mumbles. "I never thought about it before."
The clerk blinks dully at them. "And neither of you has a current marriage or other legally binding relationship?"
Freen turns to Becky, chewing her lip nervously. "Is this a bad time to tell you about my secret wife in Spain?"
Becky punches her in the arm. "That's not funny."
"It is a bit."
"It's frighteningly plausible, is what it is."
The clerk stares out at them dolefully. "Ma'am, do you currently have a spouse, in this or any other country?"
"No," Freen admits.
Becky is rather embarrassed by the whole exchange, but the clerk has apparently seen worse, because she's entirely unaffected as she rifles through the various papers. "Well, it looks like all of this is in order, but I'll be in touch if there are any issues. If it all checks out, you can come back in three days to pick up your marriage license."
The clerk rattles off a routine speech about other legal aspects of the marriage process, including how to book an appointment at a courthouse to be married by a justice of the peace and where they can go to change their names, then they're on their way down the steps of City Hall.
"So are you going to take my name?" Freen says as they get in the car.
"Becky Sarocha." Becky makes a face. "It sounds weird."
"Not any weirder than Becky Pilotchu
"Shut up."
"Were you going to change your name for Niko?"
Becky shifts uncomfortably under her seatbelt. She hasn't told Freen much about her last fiancée, and Freen tends to politely steer clear of the topic, most of the time. "Why? Are you jealous?"
"Always."
"To answer your question, I hadn't decided. Didn't get that far. But he definitely would've wanted me to."
"What was his name?"
"Pilotchu"
"Becky Pilotchu." Freen scrunches up her mouth, considering it. "That does sound better, actually."
YOU ARE READING
And Our Parents
Lãng mạnBecky, we are all adults here." "It's hard to take that seriously when you have your hand in my pants. The chemistry between Becky and Freen is obvious and immediate, so it's awkward when they find out their parents are getting married. This is a co...
