#brad murphy

“Are you sure you’re alright with postponing the wedding?” Jason asked as they sat together in the living room looking through bridal magazines.

“Positive,” Stella said, “we were rushing things before. I want my dream wedding and more time to plan means I’ll get exactly what I want.”

“True,” Jason hesitated, “but I thought you wanted a simple wedding. Ever since you were little you talked about a simple wedding in the garden.”

A slight frown creased her forehead. “That’s what I thought I wanted. Brad reminded me how much I wanted a fairy princess wedding.”

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

“Brad knows me so well I’m sure he’s right,” she said, tossing the magazine aside. 

“Or maybe he’s looking for an excuse to delay the wedding,” Jason said, choosing his words carefully.

“Not you too,” she cried. “Why doesn’t anyone believe I’m happy with Brad,” she demanded.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“Of course,” she snapped. “Sorry it’s just,” sighing, she looked away not wanting to finish.”

“But you’re having a hard time dismissing what your brother said about Brad,” Jason said.

“Brad wouldn’t cheat on me,” she said before he even finished.

Jason raised an eyebrow “did you ask him?”

Her face puckered in thought “I did but he…”

“He what?”

“He started talking about postponing the wedding and I,” she let out a small sob “I agreed. I let him convince me I wanted something I don’t want. I don’t want a big wedding or dress. I want my garden wedding.” Shoving the bridal magazines onto the floor “and I don’t want a different dress.” Looking up “what do I do?”

“You need to be honest with Brad and tell him what you want,” he said.

“What if he breaks up with me?” she asked.

“Then you’ll know,” Jason said, wrapping an arm around his daughter offering what comfort he could. 

“I thought he loved me,” she murmured against her father’s shoulder. “This is what we had talked about since we were five years old. Why would he ask me to marry him if he didn’t love me?”

“I don’t know sweetheart,” he murmured, patting her back. “Maybe he didn’t want to disappoint you. There could be a hundred different reasons.”

Pulling away from him Stella stood up. “I have to talk to him.”

Jason watched her as she marched towards the door like she was on her way to face a firing squad. It was times like this he wished he could protect his children from getting hurt unfortunately there was no way to protect his daughter from having her heart broken.

Stella’s car came to a jerking halt in front of Brad’s house. The front door opened as she was getting out of the car. She wanted to deny the truth of what her eyes were seeing. Brad had his arms wrapped around a woman in a tight mini skirt. The woman was all legs and their bodies were attached in more places than just their lips. 

Stella let out a strangled cry as she stood frozen half in and half out of her car.

In stunned horror, Brad pulled away from the woman in his arms. “Stella, what are you doing here?” 

“Is that the little girl you were telling me about,” the woman asked, smirking at Stella. 

“I’m not a little girl,” Stella said, slamming her car door shut. 

Putting his hands out “let me explain.”

Crossing her arms in front of her Stella glared at him “it better be good.”

The woman sashayed to her car, humming softly “oh honey you won’t believe your ears when you hear it.” Stopping by her car she called out “Brad, it’s been fun but don’t call. We’re done.”

“But,” he protested but all he could do was watch as she backed out of the drive and drove away.

“Well I’m waiting,” Stella glared at him, foot tapping on the ground.

“What did you expect,” he grumbled “I’m a man and I have needs.”

“Oh,” her head doing a sort of circular nod, “so it’s ok for you to cheat because it’s a manly need.”

“It’s not cheating when there’s no emotional connection,” he said. “Not like you and me. We’re connected on a whole other plane.”

“Oh I’d say our planes are flying at two different altitudes,” she said.

“Come on Stel,” Brad whined “it was just sex. I love you baby.”

She stepped back when he attempted to touch her. “I suppose that makes it alright then.”

He smiled, “I knew you’d understand.”

“Yeah I understand,” she said “I understand that you’re a lying cheating toad.”

He stared at her like she was talking a different language. 

“I’m gonna do what any self respecting princess would do when they find out their frog prince is really a toad,” she said, turning away while walking to her car.

Chuckling a little “and what is that? Give him a kiss.”

Stopping, she turned to glare at him. In a violent jerk she pulled her engagement ring from her finger, scraping away a layer of skin along with it. She lofted the ring at his head “no, throw the toad back.”

“Oww,” he cried, clapping a hand to his forehead a moment after the ring bounced off it leaving a tiny knick spoiling his perfect complexion.

Jumping into her car, she slammed it into gear only realizing when Brad had to jump clear that she had put it into drive instead of reverse. With hands that felt like they’d become jello she threw the car into reverse, her last image of Brad was of him dusting off his jeans as he rolled to his feet.

Coming into the church had been a mistake. Rose didn’t understand the instinct that brought her to the front of the church much less the prone position she found herself in. It was like some bad Christmas romcom except she was damsel in distress. 

Swiping a hand across her face she heaved a sigh that seemed to echo off the walls of the empty church. It’d been months since she’d last been here with her family. They had come Easter Sunday. The entire family had come, sitting towards the back because Brooks had thrown one of her tantrums. His tantrums. 

Shaking her head at her mistake. She was never going to get used to the change. It should be easy except that it wasn’t. Changing pronouns after eighteen years is a lot to ask of someone and she was trying even though she was still making mistakes. Mistakes she knew hurt her sister rather her brother.

How was she supposed to help explain this to their parents when she didn’t understand it herself? Hating to admit it, even to herself, Rose knew it was because she didn’t want to accept it. Ever since Brook was a baby their parents dressed them in identical outfits for holidays and special occasions. Rose had spent the entire Easter holiday trying to convince Brooks she … he needed to play his part. Not to rock the boat. And Brooks had been miserable. 

Now here she was inside a church hoping to get an answer to her dilemma. You’d think it’d be an easy decision. Support her sis…her brother and risk disappointing their parents or supporting her parents and alienating her brother. Why couldn’t Brooks have just left well enough alone? Brooks just had to tell their parents she was a boy trapped inside a girl’s body.

Intellectually  Rose understood there was more to it than that. How many times had Brooks confided in her on how uncomfortable she was in her own body. Rose knew she was part of the reason why it had taken Brooks so long to tell their parents. But why couldn’t she have waited until right before they left for university?

That’s the real reason she was here. She couldn’t stand it at home anymore. Not the tears. Not the gloom and doom that seemed to fill the house. Her entire summer was ruined all because Brooks had to tell them how she felt. 

“Hey,” a deep concerned voice said “are you alright?”

“What? Who?” she jerked her head up to find a young man with a colorful mop of unruly hair staring down at her. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine to me,” he said “do you want to talk about it? I could get the minister, he’s in his office.”

“No,” she sniffled “but if you have any tissues that would be great.”

Grinning, he held out a box “I thought you might need them.”

“Thank you,” she said, pulling several tissues out. 

“Are you sure you’re alright,” he asked again.

“Positive,” she said, dabbing at her eyes hoping her face wasn’t a smeared mess.

“If you say so,” he said, setting the tissue box on an empty pew. “I’m Fox Cornell, I volunteer at the shelter.”

“Oh,” she smiled up at him, “so that’s why you’re here.”

“Yep,” he nodded “most weekends, except next weekend. My sister’s getting married.”

“Congratulations,” she murmured as a funny ache filled her heart. Would Brooks be her maid of honor or a best man? Would they even want to be in her wedding? Why did she have to ruin everything by coming out? 

Checking his phone he said “well if you’re sure you’re alright I should be going.” He started to turn away when she touched his hand.

“I … um …. Appreciate your concern,” she smiled up at him “I’m Rose Mueller.”

“It’s nice to meet you Rose,” he smiled, fiddling with his phone. “I have to go. My sister’s sending me impatient texts because I’m already late for my tux fitting.”

“Then you better go,” she said “I know where to find you if I ever need a tissue.” 

“Yeah right,” he chuckled as he hurried from the church.

“That was lame,” she muttered to herself once she was alone. 

The tux fittings took longer than Fox expected they would take. Maybe if Stella wasn’t so picky it would have taken half the time. Sometimes he wondered what Brad saw in her. He sure wouldn’t marry her if he had a choice. 

He’d like to get married someday if he ever found the right person. 

Maybe it was the girl from the church…what’s her name? She was pretty as a rose. 

Snapping his fingers he grinned rose, that’s her name, Rose. Would he ever see her again? Maybe he could ask one of the cooks in the soup kitchen if they knew her but as soon as he thought of it he nixed it. That was the surest way of starting up gossip and he hated gossip; especially about himself. 

Regretting that he hadn’t gotten Rose’s number when he had the chance he drove into the parking lot of a bar. He seldom drank but after spending hours with his sister appraising how he looked in his tux he felt the need for a drink. 

It wasn’t as busy as he thought it’d be for a Saturday night. There were couples dancing to whatever was playing on the jukebox. Fox started to make his way to the bar to place his order when he stopped and turned. One of the dancers seemed familiar and if he hadn’t just spent hours with him he’d never have recognized him without his cowboy hat.

“Brad,” he asked, walking up to the couple who were now lip locked.

Startled Brad pulled away from the woman in his arms. “Fox, what are you doing here?”

Frowning Fox crossed his arms “I could ask you the same thing.”

“It’s not what you think,” he stammered.

“Really,” he said waving a hand towards the woman “that doesn’t look like my sister. You remember her, your fiance.”

“Fiance,” the woman said, her eyes round with shock.

“Wait,” Brad called after her, “I can explain.”

“I certainly hope so,” Fox said, stepping in front of him.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Brad said, trying to walk around him.

“The hell it doesn’t,” Fox said, grabbing his arm “you’re engaged to my sister.”

“Yeah and maybe if your sister was a little more warm I wouldn’t have to look elsewhere,” he said.

“Don’t give me that,” Fox said “you’ve known Stella ever since you were kids. You know what she’s like.”

“Yeah I know,” Brad mumbled as he watched the woman he was dancing with walk out the door. Shrugging off Fox’s hand “you can leave now that you’ve ruined my night.”

Fox shook his head as he watched the man his sister was going to marry in a week’s time walk away as if Fox was the problem. What did his sister see in him?

Stella’s high heels sank into the soft earth as she stood from her small compact car. “My shoes,” she whined imagining the damage the sharp rocks hidden in the loose soil were doing to them.

“You can always take them off,” someone said behind. His voice was almost unrecognizable from trying to hold back from laughing.

“I thought you said we were going somewhere special,” she said glaring at him. 

Stretching his arms wide “don’t you know where we are?”

Slamming her door shut shaking her head, “it’s the lake. There’s nothing special about this place.”

“This is the most special place ever,” he contradicted her. 

She gave him a look that clearly showed she thought he had lost his mind. “Fine you’ve had your little joke.” Turning towards her car “now let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Reaching for her hand, he tugged her towards his truck. “We’re eating here.”

Shaking her head “I’m not dressed for the lake and my shoes.”

“You look perfect to me,” he grinned, pulling her close.

Leaning into him “you know I can’t say no to you.”

“I know,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said, her hands running through his hair as their lips locked, joining them.

“Forever and ever.” he asked looking intently into her eyes.

She gazed back at him, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “What’s gotten into you? Are you feeling alright?”

“Never better,” he said, turning to the bed of his truck to pull out the picnic basket he had stored there. 

“Then what’s all this about?” 

Taking her hand he led her towards the lake “do you remember when we were kids and we’d come here to catch frogs?”

“And you kept telling me to kiss them.”

“And you refused,” his laughter echoed through the valley.

“They were slimy.”

“You’re such a girl,” he said.

“Whatever,” she sniffed, slightly miffed. “Ow,” she cried as her ankle turned on the uneven ground. “These shoes are not meant for hiking. How much farther?”

“We’re here,” he said. “Just give me a moment to set everything up.”

“Fine,” she mumbled as she leaned against a tree, rubbing her ankle.

Shaking his head he laid out an old quilt he brought along for them to sit on before setting out the picnic basket.

Watching him a moment, Stella slipped her heels off before sitting beside him. “What’s for lunch?” she asked.

“All your favorites,” he grinned at her before adding “plus a few flies.”

“Flies,” she cried, looking disgusted.

“For the frogs,” he said.

“I’m not catching frogs,” she said, taking the plate he handed her and inspecting the contents with a dubious stare. “Did you make this?”

Raising his eyebrows “if I did, would that be a good thing?”

“It’s good,” she said, licking her lips.

Sometime later as he was packing the remnants of their picnic lunch up he gave her a mischievous look. “Are you sure you won’t reconsider kissing a frog?”

Wrinkling her nose she shook her head saying “nope. Not gonna happen. You couldn’t make me kiss one when we were kids. I’m definitely not gonna kiss one now.”

“Not even your frog prince,” he teased.

“Not even,” she gave him a quizzical look “unless that frog prince is you.”

“Who else?” he grinned leaning over, his lips puckered.

Giggling, she did the same. As their lips met she had a feeling of deja vu, except it was more than ten years ago and they were a lot younger then. “Are you proposing to me?”

Sitting back he arched an eyebrow. “Will you marry your frog prince?”

Squealing, she threw her arms around “yes, yes, I’ll marry you.”

Fox tossed his soiled apron into the laundry basket. He glanced at the schedule on the wall next to the backdoor as he was going out. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, pushing the door open and letting it slam shut behind him. 

The hot afternoon sun beat down upon his head making his scalp itch. All he wanted to do was go home and take a nice long hot shower. Now he had to fight for time off on a job he didn’t even get paid to do.

The only good thing that happened so far was that little Weston girl hadn’t come today. What was her name? Lily? Violet? Ivy? Mentally shrugging, he gave up trying to come up with her name. It was just strange that she’d come to the soup kitchen and do nothing but stare at him. The old ladies in the kitchen liked to tease him about his secret admirer. Not so secret if you asked him. 

He’d much rather spend his time camping by the lake or hiking along one of the many trails. Just him and nature. Away from everything and everyone. Maybe he was turning into a grumpy old man as his sister liked to call him. 

He stood just inside the church letting his eyes adjust to the relative dimness from the brilliant summer day he’d just come from. He could hear rhythmic tappings like someone was typing on an old fashioned typewriter. He followed the sound hoping it would lead him to the minister in charge of the soup kitchen. 

Knocking softly before calling out “do you have a minute?”

The minister, a man in his mid to late forties turned from his typewriter. “What can I do for you?”

Fox sighed, most of his irritation with the schedule melting with the warmth of the minister’s smile. He didn’t know how the guy did it but it was almost impossible to stay mad at him. Must be true that he had God on his side or something. “The schedule for next week…”

“I don’t know what the place would do without willing volunteers,” the minister said “especially on the weekends. So many people are constantly on the go.”

“But next weekend…” Fox found himself floundering. He hated thinking he was disappointing anyone, which is why he liked being by himself. You couldn’t disappoint anyone if you were alone. 

“What about next weekend,” the minister asked.

“I..um..you said I could have it off,” Fox stammered “it’s my sister’s wedding. If I didn’t have to be there…”

“Oh” the minister stared blankly ahead “that’s right. I forgot. Must be getting old.”

“Maybe I could come afterwards…”

Lifting a hand the minister shook his head, “enjoy your sister’s wedding. We’ll manage without you.”

“If you’re sure,” 

“Best you be getting on home now,” the minister returned to his typewriter “unless you want to help me write the sermon for Sunday.”

“I’ll see you later,” he let out a nervous chuckle as he backed out of the office. He was almost to the door when something stopped him. An indistinct sound like someone crying. Had someone come into the church while he and the minister had been talking? 

Curious he moved forward, peeking around some curtains he found a young woman at the front of the church, kneeling. Was she crying? He couldn’t tell. 

Stella rolled over, moaning softly “what am I doing?” It was a redundant question. One she’d asked herself more than once since she’d called off the wedding. Why was she hiding away in her room? She’d done nothing wrong.

Grabbing her phone and keys from the  dresser she skipped down the stairs. “I’m going out,” she called as she passed her dad in the living room. 

Behind the steering wheel she drove towards the beach. “I wonder if he’ll be there,” she felt her heartbeat speed up a beat or two. She’d gone there before but so far he hadn’t been there. Checking her mirror she said “maybe today’s the day.” 

She groaned at the sound of someone calling her name. Turning “what do you want?”

“Can we talk?” Brad asked, tacking on a please at the end.

“I’ve said all that I want to say,” she said, turning to leave. 

Brad grabbed her wrist “you haven’t heard a single word I’ve tried to say.”

“Go croak someplace else,” Stella said “I’m not interested.”

“Stop with the toad references,” he snapped, “I’m trying to be serious.”

“Now you want to be serious when it’s too late,” she tried to pull herself free. “Let go.”

“Not until you listen to me,” he said, pulling her towards a table.

“You don’t have anything I want to hear,” she said trying to dig in her heels but the loose sand and his superior strength worked against her.

“I refuse to believe that you’re willing to throw away everything we had,” he said, turning to face her. “We’re meant to be together.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes. “We were five years old when we promised we’d marry each other.”

“Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” 

“It used to,” she said “until you cheated.”

“I told you why.”

“Right,” she nodded, “a man has needs. Well you can follow your manly needs with no concern for me.”

“That’s not what I want,” he said pulling her close “give me another chance.”

Struggling in his grasp “let me go.”

“Not until you agree to give me another chance,” he was practically shouting. “It’s what’s expected.”

“You should have thought of that before you cheated.” she said, struggling to free herself.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry,” he shouted. 

“You don’t have to say it at all,” she screamed “because I don’t care.”

“What’s going on here?” A worried voice asked.

“Go away,” Brad demanded, “this is a private conversation.”

“I think you should let her go,” the man suggested.

“Fine,” Brad shoved her into the concerned stranger. “We’ll finish this later.”

“I thought you might be hungry,” Rose said, setting the tray down on the nightstand next to where Brooks lay facing away from her.

“I’m not hungry,” Brooks mumbled.

“It’s your favorite,” Rose said, “spaghetti and meatballs.” 

“Garlic toast with mozzarella cheese?” he asked, sitting up, sniffing the air.

“Just the way you like it,” she said sitting on the floor.

“You don’t have to watch me eat,” Brooks said, nibbling on a piece of garlic toast.

There was a moment of silence between them. “I’m sorry,” Rose said “I don’t know why I said you were confused. I know you’re not confused.”

Slipping from the bed, Brooks sat on the floor. “Why’d you say it?”

Shrugging “I don’t know.” Rose glanced over at Brooks, only to look away just as fast. “I’m sorry,” she repeated softly.

“I thought you of all people would support me,” Brooks said almost accusingly. 

“I know,” Rose’s voice was high and squeaky, “I’m sorry.”

“I told you things I never told anyone else,” Brooks continued “I thought you believed me.”

“I did, I mean, I do,” Rose hastily corrected herself. “But why couldn’t you have waited until the end of summer? Or when you were at university to tell them?”

Brooks sighed loudly, “not everything revolves around you.”

“Don’t you think I know that,” she cried “I just wanted one last summer with my sister.”

“Ugh, why do you do this?” Brooks demanded “it’s not like you’re losing me. I’ve always been me and I’ll still be me.”

“But it won’t be the same,” Rose whined. “I won’t have anyone to go shopping with or talk about clothes and stuff.”

“Those things are not inherently female activities,” Brooks pointed out.

“I guess,” she sighed “but once you start taking hormones who knows what you’ll like.”

“When I start…”

“You know our parents aren’t going to say no once they know this isn’t some whim,” Rose said.

“I wish I could believe that,” Brooks said although he could feel the heavy weight on his heart lifting just a little. 

Fox put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher when there was a knock at the door. He could hear his parents muffled voices as they tried to convince his sister to come out of her room.  Shrugging he went to see who was there. 

“What’re you doing here?” He demanded when he came face to face with the person who caused everything.

“I need to talk to Stella,” Brad said without preamble. 

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?”

“I’m not the one who tells tales,” he said.

“Oh?” Fox glared at him “So I’m the bad guy for telling my sister that the guy she’s about to marry is a lying cheating jerk.”

“You didn’t let me explain…”

“Explain what? You were kissing…”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Brad pushed past him. “I need to talk to Stella.”

“She’s not talking to anyone,” Fox said even as Brad made his way towards the stairs.

“She’ll talk to me,” Brad said.

Fox followed in his wake, raising his hands in defeat when his parents turned to him with questioning looks. 

Brad knocked on the door, “Stella it’s me. We need to talk.”

To Fox’s astonishment there was the definitive click and Stella reached through the small opening to pull Brad inside. 

“Is it true?” Stella demanded as soon as the door closed behind him.

“What do you think?” Brad asked, reaching for her. 

Stella turned, walking a few paces away “I don’t know what to think.”

“You can’t seriously think I’d cheat on you,” Brad said, reaching for her. 

“No more than I believe Fox would lie to me,” she said, tensing when she felt him touch her shoulders.

“Babe, I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I wanted some other girl,” he said.

Sighing she turned into his embrace “I guess not.”

Tilting her chin upwards, gazing into her eyes “You’re the only girl for me.”

Grinning upwards “really?”

Leaving down, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Positive,” he said, “you’re the girl for me.”

She let out a happy little sigh as she nestled her face into his chest. “I’m so glad we’re getting married this weekend.”

“I’d like nothing more than to get married,” he said “but…”

She pulled away from him “but what?”

“Don’t you think we’re rushing things?” 

“Maybe,” she bit her lip to keep them from visibly trembling.

“Aww babe, don’t cry,” he hastened to comfort her. “You did amazing organizing things in the short amount of time since we got engaged.”

“But you don’t want to marry me,” she sniffed as her chest tightened.

“I do want to marry you,” he assured her “but I want it to be your dream. Didn’t you always want the big church wedding? The big puffy dress with a train a mile long?”

“Yes,” she murmured, tears trickling down her cheeks. 

“If we pushed the wedding out a few months or a year you could have exactly the wedding you want,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, gazing up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. “You’re the one who wanted to get married right away.”

“I want you to look back on our wedding without regret,” he said.

“No matter when we get married I wouldn’t regret it,” she said giggling as he picked her up and twirled her around the room.