What should a girl have done…?
The contract was a surprise… Just days before we married. For real.
In February or March that same year, Ted proposed to me… By text.
« On le fait?* »
« Oui. faison-le!** »
« Is that a yes? »
« Yes. What a great idea! »
And by end of May, I’d organized this whole fantasy-weeklong-pre-wedding-swinger-extravaganza in a rented apartment perched on Montmartre with a spectacular south facing view of the whole city, complete with a fake rooftop ceremony at sunset. All for him.
But then, just after that, in July, only 10 days prior to our official wedding,
Ted started getting angry. Again.
And he’d stop talking to me. Again.
I tried to force the conversation. I cried. I pleaded. I told him we didn’t have to get married for real, if he didn’t want to anymore. I said that for our real friends and family, we could just do another fake ceremony.
I told him I loved him and tried to assure him that I wasn’t in it, for his money.
He seemed relieved that I was breaching the subject that had been weighing so heavily on his shoulders.
He seemed to feel understood. He was happy I realized how frightening it was to be a divorce attorney remarrying.
How crazy it was for someone like him, who knew the conventions of these contracts inside and out, to be entering into one another time himself.
He’d clearly analyzed the ins and outs of his engagement, even if I, a layman, had not.
I said I thought we loved each other more than anything. But he said… he would write up a contract immediately and we could sign it together with his notary-friend as witness.
Of course, I sniffled, relieved that he still loved me, still wanted to marry me, still wanted to go through with our ceremony in front of my children and my parents and my closest friends from abroad.
Of course I would sign a contract.
And of course, due to the rapidity of the signature… and the papers… before the official day, I would not need my own lawyer or notary to intervene.
Why would I? My own fiancé was a lawyer and his oldest and best friend was his notary. There was no fear or no hesitation to be had.
3 or 4 days later, when Ted had it all prepared, we met at his friend’s new home with his friend’s new wife.
It was a beautiful early summer evening and we drank white wine as we spoke about the formalities of our engagement.
The notary-friend read me through the contract, as per his obligation, clause by clause.
« Nothing, » he summarized!
« What’s yours is yours and what’s his will be his. »
« I don’t want Ted to think he’s marrying me for my money, » I laughed!
« Well this counts for everything in the past. And modifications can be made to include you… as his wife… in your future acquisitions… But for the moment… this contract… has nothing… in it… at all… for you, »…
He said… raising his glass again… As Ted opened another bottle for us all.
We laughed some more. Admired the weather and marveled… at the stunning view… of the Vézère Valley… from their terrace… and we toasted some more, to us, the future newlyweds.
I didn’t notice an exchange, a glance or even a nod… between my then fiancé and his friend. I’m sure they had the scenario well scripted prior to my arrival.
Even if they hadn’t though, there would have been nothing to say.
What would a bride-to-be have done just days before her wedding date?
How could I have demanded another professional take a look at a contract that my own fiancé had drawn up? Didn’t I trust him?
So I initialed each page and signed at the end.
« Cheers to our long life together, to our love for one another, to our mutual caring and to our commitment to each other’s wellbeing, » I said.
Apparently in vain.
Translations from French to English.
On le fait?* : Shall we do it? Oui. Faison-le!** : Yes. Let’s do it!
