I carried the engagement ring around with me for six months, the box in my pocket or tucked safely into my luggage. The only time I didn’t have it on my person was during our overseas tour. Then, it was safe at home, tucked into a drawer full of my old t-shirts.
Kate had come to visit me during her Christmas break from college, and we indulged one of our favorite pastimes. It was especially fun in New York, we discovered, where the store clerks seemed to think they could smell money a mile away and would fall over themselves to help you if you gave off that telltale stench. On one particular occasion, we had affected horribly exaggerated Southern accents and convinced Claire at Tiffany’s that I was the heir to a peanut farm dynasty and Kate was my debutante bride-to-be.
What Kate didn’t know was how closely I watched her reactions to the various rings Claire showed us and how I made a mental note of which was clearly her favorite. A week later, after Kate had gone back to her classes, I introduced myself to Claire for real and bought the princess cut ring of my girlfriend’s dreams.
It was easy to blame our tour schedule for my delay in proposing; during the year that Underneath was released, I barely got to see Kate at all. At least when we had been recording, there were opportunities for one or the other of us to fly out for a quick visit. Now that I was on the road again and she was halfway through college, our time together was much more limited.
I knew that was just an excuse, though. The truth was that I was scared shitless. After all, I was no older than Taylor had been when our family had all but forced him into marriage, and here I was willingly choosing it. Was I insane? Would Kate think I was insane? Would she turn me down?
Because I was a dumbass, I had no clue how to actually go about proposing to her. As well as I I’d liked to think I knew her, I didn’t know what sort of proposal she would want. My sneaking suspicion, though, was that low key was the way to go, even if it made me feel like an unromantic jackass. During our tour stop in Atlanta, we only had one day together before the band was off to another concert, so I asked Kate how she wanted to spend the day. At first she said she just wanted to watch movies in my hotel room, but I whined and prodded until she asked to go to the World of Coca-Cola. It wasn’t romantic, but I hadn’t been there since our first tour, so I agreed.
There was a Johnny Rockets down the street, and that seemed like a good enough place for lunch. Maybe I wouldn’t propose that day, I decided. It didn’t feel right. Then again, it didn’t feel wrong, either. I reasoned if I was considering it at all, I might as well just go for it. But in between hearing about Kate’s classes and telling her about our Japan tour, I couldn’t find quite the right moment to pop the question.
“Somebody’s got an appetite today,” Kate remarked.
I shrugged sheepishly and sat down the fry I had been about to pop into my mouth. I had already cleaned the plate of my burger, and was starting to wish I’d ordered extra fries.
“You don’t have to stop,” Kate said. “I’m glad. You never eat enough on tour.”
That was true enough, I supposed. Our insane tour schedule left little time for food, and what time we did have to eat was usually spent shoveling in the greasiest, highest calorie meal we could possibly find. It wasn’t healthy at all, but it was just how things went on the road. At least I knew Kate wasn’t judging me for overindulging myself. She rarely judged me for anything, even some of the things that really deserved judgment.
With a grin, I popped the entire French fry into my mouth at once. Sure, I was being a little bit of a pig, but it was better than the alternative. I hated those periods of my life when food seemed to be such an enemy to me. I liked food, and I liked being able to eat it without every bite being a struggle. Ever since we went out on our own and things were looking up, my world seemed to stop spiraling out of control. Sure, I had put on a few pounds, but maybe that wasn’t the end of the world.
As I ate, my attention drifted around the restaurant. It wasn’t terribly crowded. A few girls a couple of booths away caught my eye. There wasn’t anything remarkable about them, really, but they set off what I called my fanson sense. We all had it, to some degree, but I was the best at spotting our fans from a distance. I wasn’t sure it was a talent to be proud of, but it had come in handy on several occasions.
“She looks so skinny lately,” the blonde one said. “No wonder she’s just eating a salad. It’s probably all she eats. And then pukes it up anyway.”
“Well, he’s certainly been eating more than just salads,” her brunette friend remarked.
I glanced back at Kate. She didn’t say anything but the way she pursed her lips told me that she’d heard what those girls had said. I balled my fist and slammed it against the seat. With my other hand, I motioned for our waiter to bring the check. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to get outside, away from those fans. I knew it was bad of me; no matter how they acted, they were at least a little bit responsible for the lifestyle I led. I should be grateful for them. But when they acted like that… it was hard to feel anything but contempt.
Who were they to judge our appearances, anyway? What did it matter? Logically, I knew that they only judged Kate because she was with me. They would find any sort of possible fault with whoever I chose to date. But me… what did my looks matter? Did it have any bearing on my ability to make the music girls like that apparently loved? The answer, of course, was no. But it did matter. It mattered to them, and no matter how much I pretended it didn’t, it mattered to me.
Once the check had been paid and we were safely out on the street, walking toward the aquarium, I took Kate’s hand in mine.
“Sorry about those girls,” I said.
“No, I’m sorry,” Kate replied. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that stuff. Not from girls who claim to be your fans. Makes me ashamed I used to be one of them. Not that I was ever like them, but you know what I mean.”
“I do,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze. “But it’s not your fault they’re like that. And I should be used to it, but you… you didn’t sign up for that kind of attention.”
“But I did, kind of. I knew what to expect when we got together; I wasn’t dumb. I heard the things girls said about you then, and saw all the gossip about girls they thought you were dating. I made my peace with all of that years ago. I know it’s just jealousy. It doesn’t make it feel any better, but I know that’s all it is.”
“As bad as they are now, they’ll be even worse when we get married.”
Kate stopped walking. “When we get married?”
“I mean… I mean if,” I stuttered out. This was not going how I had planned at all. Not that I really had a plan in the first place.
“Do you?” Kate asked, her lips curling up into a smirk. “Are you trying to ask me to marry you, Zachary?”
I felt my cheeks heating up and I ran a hand through my hair. “Well, that was the plan, but somehow I seem to have fucked it up.”
Kate just giggled. “Tell me you at least have a ring. Then we can say you did a better job of it than Taylor, at least.”
“I do,” I said, fumbling in my pocket for the little velvet box. I began to hand it to her, then groaned at my stupidity and fell to my knee on the sidewalk. A grungy Atlanta sidewalk was not at all where I had planned for this to happen, but here we were. There was no going back now, I realized.
Kate just smiled down at me, and I wanted to get right back up and kiss her for being the most patient, understanding girlfriend in the world.
“Kate… Katie,” I stuttered out. “I’m not saying we have to rush into it, run out and get married right away, because I know we’re still young, but… god, sometimes I feel a million years old. But when I’m with you, I don’t. When I’m with you, everything’s better. And I want that feeling for the rest of my life. So, yeah, I am asking you to marry me.”
“And I’m saying yes,” she replied softly.
My hands were shaking so hard that it took me a few tries to put the ring on Kate’s finger, but I was pleased to find that I had at least managed to buy the right size. It was a perfect fit, in every way. If I had had any doubt that I was making the right choice, it was gone in an instant. With Kate, everything was alright. I was alright. I pulled myself to my feet, and without even considering that we were still in public, cupped Kate’s face in my hands and kissed her.
A part of me hoped those bitchy fans had witnessed this entire exchange. I knew that was a horrible thought, but I was tired of being a commodity. I was tired of being their sex symbol, the object of their desire. I wasn’t theirs, at least not in that way. The part of me they got was so small compared to the part of me I gave to Kate. That wasn’t meant to discount how much it meant to them; it was just a fact. They took and took and took so much more than I wanted to give them. Sometimes I wasn’t sure there was enough of me left for anyone else… such as the girl I could now call my fiancée.