all's well that ends well

November 6, 2086. George and Blossom McCarthy have been married for three years.

* briefly NSFW


George and Blossom never had time to take a honeymoon when they married three years ago. On the weekend of their third anniversary, the idea of a babymoon sounded very appealing. George worried that he'd been ripped off when he bought a vacation package for this place, but once he stepped into the lobby, his worries subsided. It was a beautiful hotel. Blossom kicked off her sandals and made herself right at home.

They checked into their room, freshened up from the long trip, and went down to the lounge for dinner.


Whose fault was it for not reading the dinner menu? This particular item was written in Spanish, which Blossom didn't speak or understand, and the words carne and picante just whizzed over her head.

"Didn't you think to ask?" George said. "I did two years of Spanish in high school. I know what carne means, at least."

That wasn't helping. Blossom felt that her kinship with all living creatures had been violated.


Blossom went to the bar next to find something dry and bready to eat to take the taste of meat out of her mouth.

George ran into an old college buddy from LCU, Jackson Phoenix. They spent a long time chatting and catching up, but as it turned out, Blossom didn't mind because she wasn't up to a conversation anyway. She didn't think she'd keep down those pita chips down or the spicy meat.


After she threw up, she was grateful for the complimentary mints in the lounge bathroom.


So the first night of their anniversary babymoon started off mostly traumatic, and Blossom was tired, poisoned with meat, and nauseous from the pregnancy, too. Feeling at about twenty percent, but not totally spent, Blossom agreed to accompany her husband out for an hour or two. It wasn't very late yet and George didn't want to throw away such a perfect evening completely. "Can you believe it's still warm here in November? It's gorgeous!"


The arts center was still open through the evening, although Blossom found it a little boring, and that's coming from an arts major in college. Maybe Blossom just didn't feel very creative right now.


But she found one painting she liked and it was priced right, so she bought it.


Two hours tops, Blossom said, and she meant it. They returned to their expensive and ultra romantic hotel room with an exceptional view to watch the eleven o’clock nightly news.

Then they went to bed before the night disappointed them any more.

—

Blossom slept well and the hotel bed was very comfortable, but she still felt sick from last night's terrible experience of eating ground and boiled animal flesh, encased in pig intestines, and spiced with the flames of hell.

Unfortunately, George was using their bathroom when she needed to vomit again, and so she had to run through the hotel lobby in her pajamas.


Perhaps today wouldn't be a better day. Perhaps they had been ripped off after all, or cursed, and maybe they should just go home and cut their losses.


George felt a tingling of flu in his head, but he kept that to himself.


Instead of heading out right away, they decided to stay in and relax in the hotel spa.

Blossom's massage was very soothing and before she knew it she'd forgotten all about last night's dinner. But that didn't mean she trusted the hotel kitchen not to poison her with meat again, so they’d find their lunch in town, even though they paid for meals as part of this vacation package.

Okay, well, maybe George would still eat here. Maybe he’d eat for two. They did pay for it, after all. He intended to get his money's worth.


Blossom felt like her bladder was about the size of a raisin, even though everyone who saw her wondered whether she was really pregnant at all or if she'd just eaten a large veggie burger. She was desperate enough to use a public toilet in town.

While George waited for her, he read a guide book about what there was to do here. They came for the week's highlight of the Romance Festival, which wasn't until later this evening. With the day to spare, he couldn't find anything that suited them both.


They collected some snow globe souvenirs, they grabbed some posters for local attractions, and they wondered whether the trip would be a complete wash. They had to admit, though, the view was nice.


They decided on a karaoke bar for a late lunch and to wait out their time before the Romance Festival started. George had no interest in singing himself, but he reveled in the idea of hearing others make fools of themselves on the karaoke machines. Bonus points for the pregnant lady, the karaoke bar had guest bathrooms that were nicely cleaned.


They ran into yet another college buddy, Amelia.


Finally, the Romance Festival began. They made a toast with the famed Sakura Tea and hoped this would be the turning point of their vacation.


"Look, a fortune teller," Blossom shrieked. "Let's ask her about our relationship."

"Let's not," George said. "I don't believe in those things."

But Blossom did believe in sages and mystics and this lady touted herself as a "romance guru," so Blossom wanted her fortune read.

"At least your flaws are perfectly matched," the old hag said.


"What? That's it?"

"I said what I said. Twenty dollars please."

George was heartbroken for his sweet, trusting wife. He had a sense about people, having encountered the worst of criminals in his line of work, and he knew that this woman had no business presenting herself as a romance guru of any kind.

"Don’t give her a second’s thought, my beautiful moonbeam. She’s a fraud."


To prove his point, he swept Blossom into his arms and trailed kisses up her neck. Blossom giggled with delight.


Then he got a lecture from the fraudulent "guru."

"Go get a room! I don't want to see your filthy tonsil hockey. And you still owe me twenty dollars!"

They had to laugh about it in the end. This woman was the most unromantic and nasty character he'd ever met. So they stiffed her and went to enjoy the rest of the festival. They came here to celebrate their love and the start of their new family, so that was what they intended to do.







For a few hours that night, they thought perhaps the festival had changed their luck after all. They even found an old bowling alley underneath the karaoke bar when Blossom took a wrong staircase, looking for the bathrooms.



They had some pretty good beginner's luck on the alleys as well.


By the end of the evening, the flu that had already swept the rest of the country finally caught up with Blossom. But she felt too blissed to care. She had renewed her vows and enjoyed the festival and finally had some fun in this godforsaken place. Perhaps the whole trip would not be a wash after all.


But she clearly needed to end the evening to rest. George wanted to help her feel better, but he hardly knew where to touch her.


So he gave her a dose of NyQuil and tucked her into bed. They couldn't even properly cuddle that night in their romantic room with the exceptional view.


The NyQuil and sleep must have done the trick, because the next morning, she looked a thousand times better. She felt a thousand times better, too. In fact, for the first time in the whole weekend, she kind of wanted to make use of that romantic bed with the great view.

She'd like a big heaping dose of George McCarthy, please!


She pulled him to bed and nuzzled close, and into her mouth he muttered, "Mmm, Stephanie."

Blossom stopped. "Uh. What did you say?"


What, indeed! What? He had to wipe the image of Stephanie's plump flushed lips from his brain and think fast. "Step on me. I said, step on me."

"‘Cause it kind of sounded like—"

"Step on me," George insisted. "I want you to step on me in bed. It’s a thing people do."


"Oh-kay." Blossom shrugged. "If that’s what does it for you. I guess I can try."

George was pretty sure it meant nothing—Stephanie was just on his mind a lot lately because he'd spent the past year of his life working hard on her case. That's all. Granted, she did have really fantastic lips. But he was married, very married, and he loved his wife very much. And Stephanie was his client. Even if he sometimes wondered how delicious those plump lips must taste, he would never breach their professional relationship to tell her so. He would keep that little nugget to himself and give his full attention back to his beautiful wife.




"Well, that was different," Blossom said. "Did I do it right?"

"You did great," George said. He was sure that wasn't probably a thing that most people do. But all's well that ends well, and Blossom looked satisfied.


Having spent most of their final day in bed—stepping on each other—Blossom and George headed out to the Spice District to wait for the rumored flea market.

Turns out that they showed up on the wrong day and the flea market never happened. So they just tossed a basketball around for a while instead.


They ran into yet another one of George's college buddies, Lara, who looked like she'd put on a bit of weight since graduation. George felt a little smug that he'd maintained his college weight for all these years.

Even though it seemed most of his graduating class had migrated out west, George couldn't wait to get back home.




They spent their final evening in the hotel's infinity pool, which would be the image that lasted in their minds when they went home.

Blossom wasn't a spiteful person, so she wouldn't leave a bad review, but she would forever claim that the hotel menu needed to be worded more clearly, in English, and visual icons are always helpful. George was also not exactly a spiteful person, but he believed in putting justice where it was due, and he intended to write a firm but fair review of this hotel when he got back home. Three starts, he would say. But then, perhaps most of what they didn't enjoy about the trip was not the hotel's fault. So maybe four stars.

But in the end, when they got back to their busy life and work in Potomac Heights, preparing for the arrival of their new baby, he would never get around to writing a review at all. As they left the trip behind them, they remembered more of the good than the bad. They only remembered all of the strange, blissful, quirky oddities that might someday become funny stories to tell their children.

—

footnotes: their wedding // my "romance guru" is Mrs. Crumplebottom! // somebody has a little crush on Stephanie