Imitation Greek Tragedy

“How many candles did your mom say she had?” Garrett straightened from retrieving a pair of candlesticks from the lower shelves of a bookcase. The tarnished brass would be perfect in the Victorian house they’d rented for their wedding.

“Jules?” He turned around to find his fiancée wandering down the antique store’s main aisle. “Hey, Julia!”

“Hm?” She glanced at him over her shoulder.

He raised the candlesticks. “Does your mom have enough? Or should we get these?”

“We can get those.” Her voice hardly carried through the musty air.

He scratched at a spot of dried wax. “Should we clean them first or just—“ But she had stepped into another booth and out of sight. Garrett followed, frowning.

It’d been his idea to spend their free Saturday picking through antiques. Once they’d booked the Eames’ Estate as their venue, the couple decided their décor ought to be period appropriate. The local antique mall seemed the prime place to start. After all, they’d first met among old and broken artefacts.

Two years ago, Garrett was a student, hustling to finish the capstone project for his master’s degree in history. The local museum was hosting an exhibit: furniture from the Georgian and Regency periods. He’d been busy, scribbling notes and mouthing fragmented thoughts, when Julia stepped up beside him.

“I’m so sorry,” she’d said, brushing his sleeve. “Do you know where the ladies’ room is?”

He’d been so surprised to see her—a figure of flesh instead of lacquered wood—that his brain was unable to process what she’d asked. Her cheeks flushed as she backed away, apologizing again. He watched her walk out of the exhibition hall, hesitate, and turn the wrong way. The museum was a maze, and Garrett wasn’t surprised she’d gotten lost.

He was surprised at his own stupidity, though. Swearing, he turned back to the credenza, but his fervor for furniture had vanished.

He caught her on the museum steps. Tripping over his words, he’d apologized and asked if she’d like to get a drink. She’d accepted, and he escorted her to a bar down the street.

Since then, they’d spent countless hours poring over outdated maps, touring restored mansions, and sifting through estate sales. They spent their present immersed in the past, so their wedding would be no different.

Julia flipped through a vintage copy of Oliver Twist. “Should we add books to the centerpieces?”

Garrett considered this. “We’ve already got flowers, teacups, and candles. Do you think we need books?”

“Maybe not.” She placed it back on the table and walked to another booth, brushing past Garrett. He turned to follow, but another book caught his eye. Sense and Sensibility. A beautiful leather-bound copy. Julia’s favorite. He turned it over in his hands, wondering why she hadn’t picked it up.

Tucking it under his arm, he stepped into the aisle and watched his fiancée closely. Slowly, she weaved around tables, hardly glancing at what was displayed. Her fingers stayed interlaced and clasped to her chest. She made no move to open the glass doors of a curio cabinet, despite the twinkling of crystal inside. Instead, she meandered down the aisle and rounded the corner, skipping the last few booths entirely.

A warning bell sounded in Garrett’s head. This was not his Jules, who lived to find hidden treasure in the dust. Then again, she’d been like this lately, reserved and melancholic. She’d always brushed off his concern, but now he saw a pattern. It was the weekends when she was most aloof. When they made the most wedding arrangements. When they spent extended time together, just the two of them.

He stopped his thoughts there, but Garrett couldn’t dismiss the idea. With an anxious knot forming in his stomach, he rushed to find Julia.

Around the corner, she traced a fingertip over a lion-headed bookend. She didn’t turn, even though his footsteps were the only sound in the mall.

“Julia?” he called. When she looked at him, Garrett couldn’t help but notice her gaze lacked its usual spark. He glanced down and found a tea tray covered in small painted roses at hand. “What do you think of this?”

She smiled, but it was only a lifting of her pale lips. “It’s lovely.”

“I thought so,” he murmured. They drifted to the next booth, and Garrett picked up an enameled kettle. “What about this?”

Julia spared it a passing glance. “It’s nice, dear,” she said as she continued to walk.

Garrett forced himself to set it down gently. There were enough dents in it without his growing frustration adding to the count. A large vase sat on a rustic sideboard, and he grabbed it as he stomped past. Cutting her off, he thrust toward her. “Look at this, Honey. Do you think we can find a place for this?”

She took in the vase. It was squat and pot-bellied, more jug than décor. There were black figures etched around it, each engaged in some phase of a hunt. A few were stalking the stag. One figure skinned the hide while another whittled the bones. The focal point was a large fire over which the stag’s body roasted, skewered on a spit.

Julia’s eyes flicked between Garrett and the gruesome scene he held. The coil in his chest loosened at her hesitation, but then she spoke. “It’s a very interesting piece. What do you think of it?”

His chest squeezed, and he couldn’t pull in a full breath. “I like it,” he rasped. “I think we should use it up front, where everyone can appreciate it.” He plastered on a false smile. “I think that would work, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t see why not.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “If you love it, I love it.”

Garrett ground his teeth, and the muscles along his jaw and neck burned. He couldn’t look at her. Spinning around, he marched down the aisle, and passing the clerk’s counter, all but threw the vase into the old man’s hands. The bell over the door tinkled as he shoved his way outside.

Julia watched him leave, stunned into silence. Her mind whirled, and her stomach churned, but most of all, her heart ached. She wanted to run after him, but her legs wouldn’t move. She wanted to call out to him, but she couldn’t breathe. He was gone anyway; the fingerprinted glass door stood between them.

The owner leaned over the counter and found her. “Everything okay?”

His voice jumpstarted her, and she jogged over. “I’m sorry. Yes, everything’s fine.” She smiled at him and saw that he still cradled the vase. “I’ll, um…I’ll take that. Just that, please.” With shaking hands, Julia pulled her wallet from her purse. “How much?”

Garrett was waiting at the car, hands splayed on the hood. He saw her warped reflection in the windshield and moved before she could reach him. “Let’s go,” he said, opening the driver’s door. “I’m tired.”

Julia’s hand fell to her side. Silently, she climbed in the passenger side, stashing her purchase down by her feet. The thick paper of the bag crinkled every time Julia moved, so she held herself as close to the door as possible.

Garrett only saw the distance. He turned up the radio.

They parked outside her building. It was only four o’clock, and they’d had plans for dinner. But Garrett kept the car running, so Julia opened the door. Before she got out, she placed her hand over his on the shifter. His fingers tensed at her touch.

She made her voice soft. “See you tomorrow?” At his nod, she added, “I love you.”

Garrett turned to face her, the first time since leaving the antique mall. Sunglasses hid his eyes, but Julia heard a hitch in his voice. “I love you, too. Goodnight, Jules.”

She watched him leave and made sure he was gone before the first sob wracked her frame.

Parked in the garage of the house they’d bought as a couple, Garrett took off his sunglasses to drag a hand down his face. He didn’t know what had happened. He didn’t understand it, he didn’t like it, and most importantly, he didn’t know how to fix it. With a weary sigh, he threw his glasses up onto the dashboard and pushed open the door. But something in the passenger footwell caught his eye. He grabbed the paper bag and walked inside.

He ditched it on the kitchen table, but the hefty clunk made him turn around. Inside was the ugliest recreation of a Greek amphora he’d ever seen.

A manic giggle rose up in his throat, and Garrett couldn’t keep it down. Pulling out a chair, he sank down and buried his face in his hands, laughing until his sides ached. Eventually the laughter faded out, and he stared at the vase, reddening under the sun’s setting light, until he trudged off to bed.

The next morning, Garrett was washing his cereal bowl when the doorbell chimed. Julia stood on the porch, an iced caramel latte in each hand. She wore her tortoiseshell glasses and had foregone any mascara. Signs of a restless night; Garrett knew the feeling.

In lieu of a greeting, they shared a yawn, and Garrett waved her in.

“I’m sorry—“ She began, but Garret cut her off. He took the coffee, then her hand, and led her to the living room couch. Once seated, she tried again, but Garrett squeezed her fingers.

“No more apologizing.” He held her gaze, brow raised and jaw set, and waited for her to argue. She did, and Garrett repeated himself. “No more apologies. I mean it.”

“What do you want from me then?” Julia tried to throw up her hands, but one was still captive in Garrett’s palm. “What can I do to fix it?”

“Fix what?”

“Whatever I did yesterday. I did something, and it made you mad. So just tell me what it was, and I’ll fix it.” She smiled widely. “And then we can move on.”

Garrett frowned. “Jules, you didn’t do anything.”

“No, I must’ve, but I can make it better! It was the vase, right?” Her eyes drifted over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “It’s really very nice, and I think you’re right,” she rushed on. “Putting it up front really is the best place for it. I’ll order some flowers for it, and—“

“Julia. Stop.” Garrett raised his hands. “This is not about the vase.”

“It’s not?” Her voice was uncertain.

He shook his head. “No, this is about us, and being honest with each other and ourselves.” He leaned forward, but she shied away. Garrett stopped himself from reaching for her. “What happened yesterday made me think—Well, it made me want to ask.” He took a breath. “Do you want this? Do you want us?”

Julia froze. Her face wrinkled into a frown. “Yes,” she answered immediately. “Of course, I do. Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you’ve been…distant lately. More reserved, I guess. It feels like you have no interest in planning this wedding with me. You always agree with whatever is said.” Julia didn’t say anything, but she didn’t turn away. “I guess, what I’m asking is,” Garrett shrugged. “Do you even care?”

This time, Julia leaned forward and took her fiancé’s hand, laying her other along his cheek. “Yes, I care. I care that this wedding goes off without a hitch. I care that you get the perfect day that you want. I care that everyone has a great time. And if I’ve been distant, it’s only because I’m tired. That’s all.”

He turned into her touch. “Thank you. But you need to know, that’s not all on your shoulders.” She flinched under the words. A slight movement, but Garrett caught it. “Julia, this wedding is not solely your responsibility. It’s a team effort. You and me, remember?”

She nodded reluctantly.

“So whatever happens, good or bad, we deal with together. Even if this wedding falls apart, at the end of the day, we’ll be married, and that’s what matters.”

“That’s all I want,” Julia murmured. “I just want us to be married.”

Garrett parsed her words. “You don’t want the wedding, do you?” Julia didn’t answer. “Jules, we don’t have to have a wedding. You know that, right?”

“Yes, we do.” She swallowed hard. “You want a wedding. Mom wants a wedding. My sister has her dress, and Dad and Sarah have already put money towards it. We’ve sent out our ‘Save the Date’ cards. We have to—“

“Julia, stop.” Garrett reached out and grasped her fluttering wrists. “Stop for a minute, and listen. You can’t think about all that. This is supposed to be our day. Not your mom’s, or your sister’s, or any of the guests’ for that matter. Forget about the money from your dad and stepmom. Forget about all of that. Look me in the eye right now, and tell me what you want.”

Julia drew in a few shaky breaths and whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Then tell me what you don’t want.”

She paused for a while before answering. “I don’t want a wedding.”

“But you still want to marry me, right?” She nodded emphatically. “Great.” Garrett let out a breath. “Because I want that, too.” He smiled. “Let’s do a courthouse ceremony.” Julia began to shake her head, but Garrett pushed on. “A courthouse ceremony, and then a dinner party later.”

“Garrett—“

“Think about it. All the fun with none of the pressure. And like you said, we’ve already told people to save date, but we never told them what for.” He grinned. “Technically.”

“But all the work we’ve put in—“

“It won’t go to waste.” He began to tick items off on his fingers. “We’ll still use the venue, so we need the decorations. The catering’s taken care of. All we have to do is cancel the minister, and we’re set.”

“But what will the guests think?”

Garrett scoffed. “Who cares what they think?”

“I do! I care!”

“Well, I don’t. The only person whose thoughts I care about is you, Jules, and I would like to finally hear those thoughts.” He gestured vaguely behind him. “Let’s start with the vase. What are your genuine thoughts about it?”

Julia’s eyes darted between him and the vase. “Um…” she started, and Garrett had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. “The attention to detail is impressive. The spears of the hunters do look incredibly sharp…”

“And?”

She cleared her throat. “And the prominence of the animal carcass is certainly…telling. Definitely gives us insight into the artist’s intention.”

“Sure, and now what do you like about it?”

Julia mumbled something that Garrett didn’t catch. “What was that?”

Lifting up her glasses, she rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “Nothing,” she said, and her voice was small. “There’s nothing I like about it.”

Garrett folded his arms. “You like nothing about this vase that you bought? Nothing at all?”

“No,” Julia groaned. “I really don’t. It’s gruesome and lopsided and really, it’s…it’s not even our colors.”

“Good. Anything else wrong with it?”

“It’s not Victorian, or even Regency. It’s knock-off Greek Archaic! Why did you even pick it up in the first place?” Julia turned her venom toward him, but Garrett didn’t mind.

“Because I knew you would hate it, and I was trying to get you to voice your own opinion, not just echo mine.”

She dropped her gaze to her intertwined fingers. Garrett picked up the forgotten lattes and offered her one.

“You need to know that this wedding, and this relationship, is as much yours as it is mine. And it will take both of us, with our own thoughts and expertise, to make it work.”

“Okay,” she whispered and reached for the coffee, but he pulled it back.

“And Jules,” he continued. “I need to know that you’re telling me the truth. No more distance, no more keeping the peace, and no more apologies. Can you do that?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I can try.”

“That’s all I ask.” He handed her the cup and tapped it with his own. Julia scooted closer, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was ice cubes rattling.

“So,” Garrett sighed. “We’ve got two months ‘til the wedding.”

“Party,” Julia corrected him.

He raised his cup. “’Til the party. What do we need to do?”

“I’ll call the courthouse tomorrow.”

“And I’ll talk to Pastor Nate, but that still leaves one thing to consider.”

Julia cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

Garrett angled his chin toward the kitchen table. “What are we going to do with our imitation Greek tragedy over there?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Julia said, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I think you might like it.”

Two months later, in the ballroom of the Eames’ Estate, Garrett hefted the vase in one hand. Leaning over, he whispered in Julia’s ear. “Can we do this? We’re not Italian, or Jewish, or even Greek.”

“We’re not,” she whispered back. Her painted lips turned up in a smile. “But our vase is.”

He shook his head. “Imitation.”

“Close enough.” She shrugged. “Ready?”

Julia took one handle, and together they raised the vase. The music swelled, the party guests stood, and on the count of three, the couple threw the vase to the floor. It shattered into pieces. Garrett tilted his wife’s face and kissed her amidst the cheers of their loved ones.

Together, they cleaned up the remains. Garrett knelt to pick up the larger pieces. “You know,” he said, tossing a shard into the trash. “That felt vaguely sacrilegious.”

Julia paused her sweeping and leaned on the broom. “I disagree.”

Garrett lifted an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“I do.” Julia nodded decisively. Garrett stood, and she slipped her arms around his neck. “I think it felt very freeing.”