Authors: Ellen Hopkins
I'll go check with the nurse. Be right
back.
While she does, I send Cole
a text message with the news I know.
I strongly suggest, “Go take a shower.
I'll root through your fridge. See what
I can find.” She goes off in search of hot
water. I go off in search of sustenance.
Not much in the refrigerator. I try
the freezer and score calzones. Preheat
the oven. Put them in to bake for twenty
minutes. About the time they start to smell
really good, Dar comes into the kitchen, trailing
the scent of Garnier Fructis shampoo. I know
because I use it, too. We discovered it together.
“Calzones, okay? You need to go to the store.”
I hate eating alone, so I don't grocery shop
very often. Usually I just grab a bite after
the gym. If I see Kenny, we eat out or he cooks.
She sits on a stool at the granite-skinned
bar.
Actually, I had planned on moving in
with Kenny after I told Spence. We picked
out this nice little house at Hermosa
Beach. Kenny says I don't have to work.
I thought I could finish my degree and
after we got married, maybe have a baby . . . .
She had picked up speed with every word,
until the last. The sudden stop reminds me.
If ever. The buzzer rings. Calzones
are ready. I put them on the counter
to cool, reach up into the cupboard
for plates. When I put them down
on the bar in front of Dar, she puts
her hand on mine.
Hey. What's that?
The ring. I'd forgotten about it.
My cheeks sizzle. “Uh, that was
Cole's surprise. We're getting
married. He wants a June
wedding. That's about as far
as our planning got, so I'm going
to need all kinds of help from
you. You'll be my maid of honor,
right?” I didn't realize it, but my own
vocal tempo had picked up, too.
It was almost as if I didn't want
her to comment too quickly. Not
that I should have worried, I guess.
She is quiet as I slide a calzone
onto each plate, put forks beside them.
When I ask about napkins, she
points to paper towels and says,
Are you fucking out of your mind?
The power to soothe. The power
to skewer someone through
the heart. The power to render
someone speechless. I manage
to stutter, “Wha-what do you mean?”
The expression on her face is something
approaching fury.
A Marine? Who
in their right mind would marry
a Marine? I mean, when Spence
and I got married, I had no idea
what I was getting into. But you?
How could you marry Cole, knowing
what you do? Jesus, Ashley! I like Cole,
I do. but he's a soldier, and that
means he'll never belong completely
to you. What about
your
dreams?
They'll always come second because
what the good ol' U.S. of A. desires
has to come first. Why do you feel
the need to mess with the good thing
you've got going? Without that stupid
piece of paper, you can walk any time
you decide you've had enough. It's not
like you
have to
get married, right?
“Have to? You mean, like, am I
pregnant? How old-fashioned of
you, Dar. And glad you have such
a high opinion of me. Like I don't
understand how to use birth control?
Even if I didn't, I'd never use it as
an excuse to get married. You didn't
marry Spence because you were
pregnant, riâ?” Holy crap. This
is so not the time to bring up
her possible pregnancy. Besides, if
they got married because of that,
why would she have had an abortion?
No, that doesn't make sense. And now
I've gone and put my foot in my mouth.
All I had to do was complete the word.
Instead, I skidded to a stop one consonant
sound short and now she looks at me
with suspicion, like I've been spading
her personal ground. “Sorry. Look, I've
dissected the marriage idea for years.
Alternately dismissed and embraced it.
I've stuck with Cole through amazing
highs and impossible lows. That has to
be worth something. This has nothing
to do with being pregnant, although
I wouldn't mind having kids at some
point. Don't you want a family, Dar?”
Why do I keep shooting off my mouth?
Then again, I've opened the door.
She sighs.
I don't know. Maybe.
But it isn't high on my list. Right
now I have to get through this
mess before I can even think about
the future. Any future. But whatever
happens, I won't have kids with Spence.
Untouched. Goes to her liquor cabinet.
Doesn't ask if I want some, doesn't try
to explain why she does. She pours two
glasses of something clear. I can't see
the label from here. Alcohol to smudge
the edgesâthe grunt way. “Please eat
too, okay? I mean, I slaved all day to
make that incredible calzone for you.”
The humor blunts the tension. Dar nibbles
a little, drinks a lot. Gin, it turns out. Not
my favorite, especially straight, but I go
ahead and join her. When things get a bit
fuzzy, she clears her throat.
Ah-um.
I was pregnant when I married Spencer,
Ash. Everything just happened so fast,
you know? My mom would probably
have supported me, but my dad would
have killed me. A wedding seemed like
the easiest solution. Spence was so happy.
But then he went away, and he was gone
for so long. I couldn't imagine raising
a baby alone. I mean, I was just a kid
myself. I wanted to go out. Wanted to
party. Diapers and bottles and whatever?
I just couldn't do it.
She pauses, and her
face contorts, a precursor to the tears
that follow.
I had an abortion, Ash. I
thought it would be easy, but it was
awful. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.
Some things shouldn't be kept secret.
And sometimes it's just a fluke that
they are dragged out into the light.
After the Disneyland birthday fiasco,
Cole put in for holiday leave and we
actually celebrated Christmas together.
He had met my parents the previous
year, and since we were still a thing,
he decided it was finally time to take
me home to Wyoming. It was blowing
Christmas Eve snow when we landed at
the little airport. A white-knuckle landing,
which had me uptight.
I've been through
worse,
Cole soothed.
And so has this pilot,
I'm guessing. Anyway, God's smiling.
Felt more like God was pissed off
to me, but he arranged for a safe
touchdown on the small runway.
Cole's mom was there to meet us,
along with her new leading man, Dale.
I was so nervous, I was shaking, and
not just because of the weather.
What if she hated me? She and Cole
were so tight. I had crazy ideas about
some imposing Wild West woman wanting
to keep Cole and me apart. Instead, I met
a gentle lady, countrified, to be sure, but more
Bridges of Madison County
than
True Grit
.
I'm not sure how someone so petite
could have created a son as beefy as Cole,
but next to him she resembled a fairyâtiny.
Delicate. Almost gossamer. All she needed
was wings. When she saw us, her smile
was a bonfire against the blizzard outside.
It was a small surprise, midst bigger ones
soon to come. Cole's embrace lifted her
off her feet. When he spun her around,
she insisted,
Put me down, you. I want
to meet your girl.
She took my cold hand
in her warm one.
So happy to meet you,
Ashley. I'm Rochelle, and this is Dale.
The year before. Dale was dating
Rochelle then, but she still lived
in town. On her own. Turned out,
things had recently changed. A lot.
Rochelle directed us to Dale's big
Suburban.
Guess you should know
that Dale moved me out to his ranch.
Me, and everything I own. You'll love
the place. Even under all this snow.
The ten-minute drive took us
almost thirty, at blizzard-driving
speed. Finally, we pulled up in front
of a low ranch-style house. We fought
our way through the pelting ice to
the front door. Inside, it was warm
and inviting, and Rochelle had done
the place up right, with garland and
mistletoe and a huge Christmas tree.
Cole whistled, and she said,
I could
never give you this kind of Christmas
before. Glad I can give it to you now.
I only wish your sister could be here
to share it with us.
I wished then that
I could have met her, to have known
someone he cared so much for. We
would never share that connection.
Chalk up yet another small regret.
Was enormous. It must have been
awful living out there alone. No wonder
he was anxious to move Rochelle in.
Your bedroom here is exactly like it
was at home,
she told Cole.
Except,
there's a whole lot of extra space
around the furniture. It's a little bigger.
It was big, all right. Like the rest of
the house, it had aging wood floors
brightenedâand warmedâwith
Southwestern-style throw rugs in
turquoise and orange. Two big
windows looked south, toward
the frosted hills.
See?
said Rochelle,
proudly,
I even arranged it just like
it was before. Same lamp on your
desk. Same clothes in your drawers.
I want it to feel like home to you.
It's great, Mom,
he said, perhaps a bit
stiffly.
Will you give us a few minutes
to unpack, please?
She gave us a funny
look and when she left, I asked, “Is it
okay that we sleep in here together?
Not being married?” No guest room?
Don't worry about it. They're not
married, either, you know.
Practically right away. The smell
of roasting turkey woke us late morning
on Christmas day. Rochelle was up
early to bake pies and put the bird in
the oven. By the time we dressed and
went in search of coffee, the kitchen
looked like a page out of
Martha Stewart
Living
. My mom always made the holidays
nice. This was amazing. Later, Cole
assured me it was not Christmas-as-usual.
There was a reason beyond Rochelle's
wanting to make the holiday special.
I hate to spring this on you,
she told Cole,
as she handed him a mug of Christmas
blend “Joe.”
But we just made the decision
a couple of days ago. See, Dale and I
want to get married, and we want to do
the deed while you're here. Today, in fact,
if Reverend Scott can get his butt out here
through all this snow. You good with that?
Cole is not the type to wear emotion
on his face. He sat very still for several
seconds, turning it over in his mind.
Finally, he nodded.
I never liked you
living all on your own. Dale seems like
a decent guy, though you'd know more
about that than I would. If you want to
make it legal, I guess I'm good with it.
Dale had wanted Rochelle to break
the news without him present. Not sure
if he thought Cole would react badly or
what. Once he knew Cole had, in fact,
given his blessing, we all exchanged
gifts. Cole gave me a pretty filigreed