Page 1 of Surrender

“I really can’t believe you’re going through with this,” said my little sister, Jessa.

We sat in the waiting room at Arranged Hearts where I was having an interview I never imagined willingly signing up for.

“Me either, Jess.”

“Explain to me again why you need help finding a woman?”

“I don’t need help finding a woman. I need help finding a wife.”

“And you think the best way to get a wife is to marry a complete stranger? Make it make sense.”

I rolled my eyes. At times, I forgot she was twenty-one. I had thirteen years on her, so, of course, she wouldn’t understand my reasoning for half the shit I did. While we were close, it was like we grew up in two different generations. My twenty-one was nothing like her twenty-one.

She continued her line of questioning. “What if she’s ugly? Huh? What if she’s bald-headed with missing teeth and a unibrow? You don’t know what you’re getting, Jake. You could marry a black widow, a scammer, a woman that used to be a man… anything. Then who’s gonna have to fight them? Me. I don’t mind throwing hands over you, but you’re putting me in a tough spot when you asked for this.”

“Jess, you’re overthinking this, baby. I told you, this was a very thorough company. They cover all the bases.”

“That may be true, but Mama always said, you never know what’s going on in somebody’s head. They can tell you anything.”

I hated that she was right about that. When I signed up for this matchmaking service, I never thought I’d actually go through with it. Run-ins with cheaters, lairs, users, and manipulators had left me single for three years now. I was slowly approaching my forties, and I was ready to settle down.

I wanted the wife and kids, family dinners, family vacations, school drop-offs and pickups, dance recitals, football games… all that shit. I wasn’t any closer to finding it on my own, so why not solicit the help of a professional? The idea came to me when I saw this story about this couple that met through a matchmaking service. I went down the rabbit hole with their story and others like it. It became an obsession, as did most things that really intrigued me. I told myself it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.

When I told my family, they looked at me like I was crazy. We were in the middle of Sunday dinner after I applied for the services. I could have delivered the news a little better than my nonchalant manner. The room was quiet, as though they were waiting for me to say it was a joke. When I told them I was serious, there was an uproar.

Needless to say, I walked out of there with more than a full stomach. My parents still hadn’t come around to it. They couldn’t get with me meeting my wife for the first time at the altar. Jess was the only person who semi-supported me, but even she had questions.

I turned to my sister and finally addressed her concerns. “Jess, this place has a ninety-seven percent success rate.”

“And with your luck, you’ll be in that unlucky three.”

“Have some faith in your brother.”

“I have all the faith in the world in you, Jake. It’s these bitches I don’t trust. I’m too pretty for jail, and I’m not trying to have some big bitch named Bertha force me to be her prison wife. I don’t want to eat; I’d rather be eaten… by a man.”

“I don’t need that visual, Jess.”

“Well, that’s what’s gonna happen if you marry a woman that does you dirty. I’m going to jail, and her blood will be on both our hands.”

She crossed her arms and legs with a slight pout on her face. I shook my head. Even with thirteen years separating us, we were close. She loved to run my pockets, and I almost always let her. She was basically my overgrown child.

I relaxed into the chair, thinking about what kind of woman I could possibly get matched with. I knew they would ask me my preferences during the interview. While I didn’t have many, I did have some that were important and couldn’t be compromised on. I just prayed this worked out. I wouldn’t give up on love per se, but the good Lord would have to come down, sit next to me, and say, “Aye, bruh. That’s you right there.”

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my name being called.

“Jacob Mitchell!”

“Wish me luck,” I said to Jess as I stood.

She sighed. “Good luck. I mean that. You know I don’t understand this, but I love you, and I support you.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Jess.”

She rolled her eyes. “Go on. And tell them to hurry up. I don’t need anybody thinking I need help next.”

I shook my head as I walked away from her and into the back. The woman that greeted me smiled as she closed the door behind me. I followed her down the hall until we came to a stop in front of a door labeled with the name Chance Palmer.

With a soft knock, she opened the door and stepped in.

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