"Happily Ever After by Nathan Graziano

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I meet her in the produce section of the supermarket. She has a white bow in her red hair. Her white dress has blue polka dots. We’re both standing by the Idaho potatoes and large beige potatoes, and we're singing along with Kenny Loggins' “Danny’s Song” piping softly from the ceiling. She grabs a potato and holds it in front of my face. “Look,” she says. “It’s Donald Trump.” 


I grab a potato and hold it in front of her face. “Mike Pence,” I say. 


We laugh for a few moments. Then we cry for a few more. I wipe her eyes with the handkerchief I didn’t know I had in my pocket. 


“Do you like avocados?” she asks. 


“I adore avocados,” I tell her. 


We spend the next three weeks finding the two ripest avocados, and I give her the best one because chivalry isn’t dead, only resting like a dead man.

“Do you like sushi?” she asks.

 

“I adore sushi,” I tell her.
 

It takes us another month to find the sushi chef. The sushi chef’s name is The Seagull. He’s bald on top with badly dyed black hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
 

“Why aren’t you wearing a chef’s hat?” I ask him. 


“Stop reading my text messages,” he says. 


My fiancée and I decide this is a fair response and order California rolls. “I don’t trust the spicy tuna,” she says. 


The Seagull scowls at her. “I don’t have time to talk about the tuna,” he says. 


We spend the next month feeding each other California rolls with chopsticks The Seagull promised us were carved from one of Mickey Mantle’s bats. We pour the soy sauce in our palms, cupping them like we’re drinking from a fresh stream. 


“Do you like coconut water?” she asks. 


“I adore coconut water,” I tell her.

We spend the next nine months drinking coconut water, then she tells me she’s pregnant. 


“I’m going to be a father.”  


She bursts into tears. “No,” she says between sobs. “The baby belongs to The Seagull.” 


As I’m about to tell her about the things resting in the ghostly chambers of my broken heart, The Seagull arrives on a motorized cart. My fiancée gets on the back, riding bitch, and they drive off into the parking lot, happily ever after.