Page 36 of Clinically Bewitched
And I wasveryqualified for that job.
I’d been taking care of people my whole life. My sisters, when they got too deep into their spiritual practices and forgot to eat. The motorcycle club, when they needed someone to remind them they were more than their leather jackets and road names. Random strangers who looked sad and needed someone to tell them that the universe loved them.
Taking care of people was what Idid.
It was my gift.
And the universe had just handed me the person who needed it most.
“That’s amazing,” I said, and I meant it. “You must be so smart. Like, incredibly smart. Brain surgery smart. Which is the smartest kind of smart.”
He looked at me like he wasn’t sure if I was making fun of him.
I wasn’t. I was genuinely in awe.
“And you probably went to school for, like, a million years, right? Medical school and residency, and all that stuff? And you probably never had time to just... live. To be spontaneous. To do something without planning it first.”
“I—” He paused. “I suppose that’s true.”
“See?” I reached across the table and took his hand before he could flinch away. “The universe knew exactly what it was doing. You spend all your time taking care of other people, being responsible, being perfect. You need someone to take care ofyou. Someone to remind you that it’s okay to not have everything figured out. That chaos isn’t scary; it’s just life happening.”
He was staring at our joined hands as if he’d never seen hands before.
“And I know this probably seems really sudden,” I continued, because now that I understood the universe’s plan, I couldn’t stop talking about it, “and I know you’re probably stressed because everything happened so fast and you like to plan things and this definitely wasn’t planned. But that’s exactly thepoint. The universe doesn’t work on schedules. It doesn’t care about your color-coded calendar or your five-year plan. It just... happens. And sometimes the best things in life are the things we don’t plan.”
“Athena.”
“Like us! We didn’t plan this. Well,Ikind of planned it. I mean, I came to Vegas because the universe told me to, so that’s sort of planning, but not really because I didn’t knowwhatwas going to happen. I just trusted that something would. And something did! You did! We did! And now we’re married, and it’s perfect, and the universe is probably so pleased with itself right now—”
“Athena.”
I stopped talking.
He was looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t fear. It was something else. Something that looked almost like... wonder? Confusion? Terror?
Maybe all three.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” he said carefully. “But I think you’re misunderstanding the situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...” He took a deep breath. “I mean, I don’t remember getting married. I don’t remember most of last night. I woke up this morning with a ring on my finger and a stranger in my bed and no memory of how either of those things happened. And while I’m sure the universe has a plan—youruniverse, not mine, because I don’t believe in that—I’m fairly certain that plan doesn’t involve me being married to someone I met yesterday.”
Oh.
Oh.
He thought this was a mistake.
He thought the universe had made an error.
Poor thing. He really didn’t understand how this worked.
“But that’s exactlywhyit’s perfect,” I whispered. “You would never have done this if you’d been thinking clearly. You would have talked yourself out of it. Made a list of pros and cons. Decided it was too risky or too spontaneous, or too chaotic. The universeknewthat. So it waited until you weren’t thinking clearly. Until you’d had enough whiskey to quiet that part of your brain that’s always in control. And then it gave you exactly what you needed.”
“What I needed,” he said slowly, “was tonotget drunk-married to a stranger in Las Vegas.”
“See, youthinkthat’s what you needed. But the universe knows better. The universe always knows better.”
