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Wes had never been more scared in his life. Okay, so when the cops had come shortly after he had busted into that house a few years back—that had been scary. But it was nothing like this. He checked his watch, he checked his suit in the mirror, and he checked his pocket for the box. He ran through all the motions without really doing any of them. His clothes were wrinkled and messy, as was his hair, his hand barely connected with his pocket and as far as he knew, his watch had stopped working a year ago. Bert sat next to him on the couch, a bemused smile playing out on his lips. He had never seen Wes so nervous and he wasn't about to overlook the situation.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Bert asked, stressing the concern in his voice. "I mean, what if she laughs or something? What if she thinks it's a joke?" Bert pressed, knowing that he was really laying it on thick. Wes lashed out quickly, catching Bert right upside the head with his palm.
"Shut up," he said, his voice cracking with nerves. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Not like you would know anything about the subject." Bert couldn't argue. He hadn't had a girlfriend, well, since—ever. He laughed amiably though, sitting back to watch his brother stress out. It was a rare occurrence, Wes getting worked up. He was usually a lot more relaxed, the calmer of the two. Ever since he had announced his plan though, a plan which Bert had heartily agreed to, he had been a bundle of nerves. Any comment set him off.
"I know enough to say that you should have bought flowers or champagne or something. Anything would be better than your way. A game?" Bert asked skeptically, picking up a magazine from off the coffee table. He wasn't reading it—he didn't even know what magazine it was—but he didn't want Wes to think he was just sitting there, watching him. Which of course he was. Wes shook his head, fixing his tie for the umpteenth time that day.
"You don't get it," Wes said softly in lieu of an explanation, "it's more than a game. It's like," Wes trailed off, becoming more engrossed in fixing his shirt than defending himself against Bert. He wouldn't understand anyway, Wes thought to himself, straightening his tie. It wasn't just a game. It was much more than that.
"Your tie's crooked," Bert commented, barely glancing up from the magazine which he now realized had to do with gardening. He had wondered vaguely why there was a gardening magazine on their coffee table when he had noticed that one page was earmarked. Flipping casually to the spot Bert realized that there was an article on one of Wes' sculptures. It wasn't the heart-in-hand one though, as Bert had expected it to be, but a new one. Large and circular with lots of spinning doodads. It was pretty, Bert thought to himself and for some reason it reminded him of Macy. Sort of—restrained, but with some freedom to it too. Bert liked it.
"How do I look?" Wes asked, coming out of the bathroom. Bert looked up and smiled. He had gotten rid of the tie, changed his pants and put on a suit coat instead. He looked much more himself, but still extremely nervous. Bert was about to say something about how there was a stain on the pants—which there wasn't—but something about the look in Wes' eyes stopped him. He couldn't lie to him.
"You look great," Bert said truthfully, tossing the magazine aside. He made a mental note to read the whole article later, having become entranced with the new sculpture. Wes smiled, having heard the words that he needed to calm himself down—at least momentarily.
"Okay," Wes said, exhaling slowly and glancing at the clock above the TV. He had ten minutes before he was supposed to pick up Macy. If he was going to be on time, he knew he should leave sooner rather than later. Bert smiled at him as he grabbed his wallet and keys.
"See ya!" Bert yelled loudly as Wes prepared to step out. He sighed again, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He was ready, he knew, I can do this.
"Wish me luck!" He called over his shoulder, knowing full well that luck wouldn't have anything to do with it.
When Macy stepped out of the house and into Wes' idling car he lost his breath. It wasn't like he hadn't seen her in a while and was caught off guard by the sight of her. They had been together the night before actually. It was as if he was seeing her in a totally different light though. She wasn't Macy Queen, star runner, luckless caterer, and Wes' girlfriend of the past few years. She was just Macy, plain and simple. Her hair was pulled back in a bun off her neck, her dress hanging loosely off her thin frame. She seemed so—clean was the word that sprang to Wes' mind when she jumped in his truck, although it wasn't what he had meant. She just seemed, fresh somehow.
"So what's the big surprise?" Macy asked the minute she had buckled up. Wes laughed at her enthusiasm knowing that the wait was killing her. "Come on Wes, tell me!" Macy begged when she realized that he was going to remain tight-lipped on the subject. He shook his head.
"Not yet." Wes said, pulling off of the main street and onto a side road. Macy looked around curiously, trying to figure out where they were headed.
"Where are we going?" Macy asked, "What are we going to do? Are we going to run? Did you find a new trail?" Macy persisted, catching on to Wes' nerves. She wasn't used to him being so tense and the anxiety was getting to her. Wes, suddenly too nervous to focus on driving, pulled over to the side of the road and cut the engine. Macy looked around inquisitively, trying to decipher their location.
"Is this it?" Macy pressed, straining to look out the window. All that was around them were trees—trees and dirt. "Did you hide something—?" Macy asked, letting her voice trail away. Wes shook his head, trying to focus.
"No—there's nothing here—this, this isn't part of the—of my surprise. I just—I thought that—,"
"What are you trying to say?" Macy asked, staring oddly at Wes' strange behavior. He paused, collecting his thoughts. Finally, he looked up at her.
"Macy, do you want to play Truth?" He asked suddenly as if this was a big secret to get off of his chest. Macy blinked a few times, a small smile emerging on her face. Truth? They hadn't played that in ages. Did he really just ask me to play Truth? Macy asked herself. What is he getting at? She couldn't figure it out. Still, she was determined to play along. If she remembered correctly she had won their last game of Truth and she wasn't about to be beaten this time either. She had never turned down a challenge.
"Okay," Macy said slowly. "You start." Wes took a deep breath. Should I just jump right in? Wes asked himself, debating whether or not to ask her yet. In the end he decided to ease into it, having taken too long already to figure out a question.
"Okay, um, what's your favorite book?" He asked lamely, mentally kicking himself for being so obvious. Macy laughed and shrugged.
"Is that all you've got?" Macy asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. Wes shrugged at her. After a minute Macy stared across the car at him. "All those tour books I have. It's something about the thought of foreign countries and stuff that excites me I guess." Macy supplied. After a minute she stared at Wes. "Why are you so nervous?" She asked, prompting a nervous glance from Wes. This is it, he told himself. Now you have to do it now. So much for the elegant lead in, Wes thought, nerves eating him up. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"I have a new rule," Wes proposed, having regained some of his composure. Macy looked at him imploringly. "I think that you should be able to answer a question with a question if the second question answers the first." Macy stared at him quizzically, trying to figure out where this was leading to. Finally she laughed, having gotten lost along his train of thought.
"Okay," she agreed in confusion. Wes took another steadying breath and pulled the tiny velvet box out of his pocket. Macy's breath caught in her throat. Was he—? She couldn't wrap her mind around it.
"Macy, you asked me why I was so nervous. My question for you is, will you marry me?" He flipped open the box, revealing a tiny glittering ring. It was beautiful. Macy reached out, her hand fluttering around the box as if she were afraid to touch it. They lapsed into a silence so long that Wes had to nudge Macy a little. She snapped back into reality, smiling broadly at the boy next to her. "Are you going to pass?" Wes teased but inwardly he was flipping out. Why wasn't she answering? Was something wrong? Was she going to refuse?
"Of course not," Macy said smugly, knowing that Wes knew she would never pass. Wes smiled, relieved at least that Macy was joking around too.
"So, that would be…?" Wes pressed. Macy smiled.
"Yes," Macy said firmly, feeling absolutely sure of her decision. "Yes, of course I'll marry you." Macy said, knowing that this was by far the best game of Truth she had ever played.