One chocolate cake. A package of white socks, girls' size 7. Oh, and a box of crayons. The biggest one, with more colors than one could possibly need.
Jen was always miscalculating or forgetting something. He wished she, for once in their marriage, would just get something done right from the start. After all, how long had she been planning this? A week? A month? Either way, there was no reason he should be here right now picking up last minute supplies.
He was tired of it, tired of all of it, not just the incomplete party preparations. They had been trying to hold on for too long, for Sarah's sake. Sure, she was getting to the age when some of her friends spent weekends at dad's. He knew that she actually could understand now that that meant their moms and dads were not living together. He and Jen had hoped to not subject her to the same fate: "Oh, I can't go to the park this weekend, I'm going to my dad's."
They never should have gotten married in the first place. Jen was his best friend in college. They did everything together: attend university plays, plan spring break ski trips with friends, and crash the frat parties down the street from their apartment building (watching the drunks made for comedic study breaks). They talked about most everything too: both wanted to get married and raise a family, and both solemnly promised to make their spouses agree to get together for a double date at least once a month. Twice a week was more desirable.
After college, Jen moved clear across the country for work, but it didn't last very long. She claimed she and the company weren't a good fit. He knew that in reality, Jen missed home, and 1,500 miles made the separation all the more difficult. When she moved back to their home state a year later, they agreed to never live more than a few hundred miles from each other.
He still remembers the day they had that conversation. Jen had just been to her parents house the night before. "Do you want to get married? To me, I mean."
"What? No!" He paused. "Why? I mean, you're my best friend, but . . ."
"I didn't think so. My parents seem to think we should. 'You're always talking about him. He's your best friend. Why not?'" She could mimic her mother quite well.
Once the seed was planted, neither of them could quite forget it. Two weeks later, it was decided. Six months. That would be long enough to plan things out satisfactorily for both their mothers. It would be a simple wedding. Jen didn't want a lot of bells and whistles.
Their friendship died on the day of their wedding. Things were never the same once they both said "I do." At first, they tried to make it work, to mimic their married friends. Then they tried to do things their own way, to maintain their relationship as they had when they were just friends. Then Jen found out she was pregnant. They had given up on their relationship by that point, but both agreed that with a kid now in the picture, they would pretend for her sake. Now, he wasn't so sure he could pretend anymore. But he would pretend for one more chocolate cake.
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