Look How You Turned Out (16 page)

Vaginismus sounds like a cold unclimbable mountain. The isthmus of Vaginismus. It sounds like a suicide-ascent.

But Marcus is undaunted. "Get everything off," he says. "I want to see you."

"What?" I say. It's my go-to word when I'm buying time. I really mean, 'what?'

"I look at that picture you sent me fifty times a day at least," he's saying as he rips his own shirt down his arms.

"You do?"

"Better believe it. And now I've got the real deal."

"I…what if…."

"Don't worry. I'll never get tired of looking at you baby. Not gonna happen."

His chest. My dear god. Tears spring to my eyes.

"You're beautiful," I say.

"You're the beauty," he says, shirts off and going for his pants. He remembers his boots, sits and pulls them off, and his socks then stands to work on the jeans.

He's in his boxers, and I'm still sitting there on his bed. "Oh Marcus," I say. He's so perfect. I make gimme-gimme hands, and he comes to me. I lay back again, and he stretches out beside me.

"You crying?" he asks softly.

I shake my head. Not like he thinks. I'm happy.

"I think about you…," he says.

"About…what?"

"What you say. How you look. What it would be like to take you, feel you."

"I'm not stopping you," I say.

"Can I unbutton your shirt?" he says.

I start it for him, and he nudges my hands away and works on the buttons with one hand. My shirt falls open notch by notch. Underneath is an undershirt. I sit up, discard the blouse and the shirt. I'm in my bra. "Take it off?" he asks, and I reach behind and slide it down my arms. And there they are, Sid and Gladys. I just named them that as in 'nothing special.' But Marcus seems grateful. I wish they were better.

"God," he says. We've sure gotten religious all of a sudden.

I lay back. The way he smooths his hand over me, one breast to another, my stomach, my shoulders, over and over, you'd think I was beautiful.

"Look how you turned out," he says, kind of hypnotized by my plainness. I realize I'm naked, and that's a very big deal, but Myron never seemed this impressed. Love must change the eye. Love must make me more.

I'm not bad, even pretty good. I am a goddess. His eyes, there is no doubt. It’s old-fashioned I know, it’s how I was raised; right now? I wish I had waited for him. And my condition? God bless it.

"Bedilia do you know how…do you know you’re beautiful?"

I wasn’t until now. And I am catatonic. I am coma-tonic. I know I should participate, but I am held hostage by the sensation of…being loved.

This is big boy stuff, my eyes are crossed, rolling up in my head. I can see my own brain.

"Marcus," I say like the bride of Frankenstein.

He is pulling me along Elaine's second story landing that leads from his old bedroom. I'm holding his hand with both of mine, and I follow him along with these irregular steps, like a couple of small then a couple big ones.

He pulls me along down the stairs, and I say, "I lurve you. I loive you. I lauve you."

He laughs at this. I am barely aware of my surroundings, Elaine's beautiful house.

"Do you want lunch," he says as he opens the fridge.

I'm against his back now, my arms locked around his waist, my cheek smooshed against his back. His heart sounds so strong. "No," I say.

I do want lunch. I'm starving. But I can't settle down and eat here and have her walk in and see me eating her food when we've been getting it on under her very roof.

"Juney," I try to say, but it's more like Jew-ey because I also can't pronounce my words right now.

"Yeah we still have plenty of time," he says closing the fridge. He turns and pretty soon I'm under his arm and still holding on to him and his arm is around me, and we're squeezing through the door from Elaine's laundry room, and we're heading into the garage. "We'll grab something on the way home," he says, and I'm thinking yeah, please grab something…. I'm jelly, I'm toast, but he's got all this energy, he radiates it. I think Sid and Gladys energized him.

We get in the garage and before we're out that door we're kissing. Man, he can kiss.

He asks if I had a good time.

“Yes,” I say with a southern accent no less, like yay-ess.

Did I like his room?

“Yes,” I say.

Do I like him?

“Yes, oh yes,” I say.

He likes me, he says. He likes all of me, he says, appreciative hand on that other set of cheeks. Finally.

So it's like that for a few minutes, and finally, we are in the truck, and you couldn't squeeze a quarter between us, and he's holding my hand so his knuckles are resting right there where my thighs meet the gate of Moira, speak friend and enter. I have hope now, hope that when the time is right, he'll figure it out.

It's more kissing in the driveway, but I'm afraid Elaine will come and catch us, so I tell him we have to get going. We have to.

And how I feel riding in the truck with him…I feel older. Grown up. He seems younger. Joyous. I don't have any shame, any sense of failure. That's all I knew with Myron. It wasn't really his fault. It's just…he was so disappointed in me. I drank alcohol to relax. We got in the bed. I stayed there and worked, and he worked, and we failed because…we couldn’t do anything else. I had left myself. Lost myself.

With Marcus? It has rained on the desert, and the desert is me, and the cacti are sending out buds, and flowers and little pools have formed, and reptiles are emerging for a swim. That which was dead has been raised to life. To life, to life L'Chaim.

"We need a ring," he says.

"Who does?" I ask. My head is on his shoulder. I don't need anything. But him.

"An engagement ring. So let's drive to Litchfield."

"Um…Juney?"

"We'll get the ring then we'll go home for Juney, and then we'll eat."

"We can get the ring closer to home," I say. "There is a Wal-Mart."

"We're going to a jewelry store," he corrects.

I am not a ring person. I don't know if I can keep track of two rings, one for the engagement, the other for marriage.

But we do drive to Litchfield, and we pick out a sweet ring, and the saleslady is looking at us with this wistful kind of look. I am the luckiest woman in the world.

She shows Marcus the set, the other ring for the wedding, and she shows me the match, and we end up getting all the rings. I'm cringing a little, but I want that ring that matches mine for Marcus, so we order the rings and I'm wearing the one that represents engagement, and the others will be sent.

All the way home I sit as close to Marcus as I can, and I'm looking at my ring, and he's toying with it while he drives, and I say, "We've bought rings." And he reminds me he was there.

I guess it's official. We're going to marry.

He says as soon as I allow. I think I need to wait on Dad at least. It's important he's there, right?

I'll wait for him to walk me down the aisle with his cane or his walker. But the truth? I've already chosen Marcus Stover, moved across the street, given him myself, said I do, I will, I must. My heart is his.

We beat Juney's bus by fifteen minutes. We're sitting in Marcus's truck, engine running, heater on, and when Juney gets off, he runs to the truck and soon as he opens the door he is looking wide-eyed. "What?" he says.

Well, he did come home the day before to Jessica's crime scene. "Get in son," Marcus looks around me and says. So he climbs in and arranges his backpack on the floor.

I have my hand on his shoulder. My ring hand, not that he'll notice.

He is telling us some news from school. Everyone is talking about what Jessica did and how his dad arrested her.

Marcus says, "Juney I asked Bedilia to marry me."

He is waiting, looking from Marcus to me. Then he flips around and sits back, puts his head back and groans but he's smiling.

"What?" I say. "You'd rather have Jessica?"

"No!" he says loudly. Then, "You'll be my step-mom!"

"Your evil step-mom," I say rubbing my knuckles on his head a little.

So all the way to the restaurant I talk about all the horrible rules I'm going to make, and he protests, and I create all kinds of embarrassing scenarios, things I'm going to show up at school and do to him, like bringing galoshes, which he's never heard of mind you, when it rains or have the teacher give him a laxative every four hours. Then I try to check behind his ears for dirt. He's so wound up by the time we get to the restaurant Marcus says maybe we should just get drive-through.

"But really," I say on the way in, "Jessica and the mixer-toss will be a hard act to follow for crazy." And Juney loves that, but he bets I could come up with something worse if I tried. I say how about I drive my truck through the beauty parlor's  window? Juney loves this, and gets on board with what could happen, and Marcus looks sharply at me. "Too much?" I ask, and we go in.

Then after we eat a massive pizza we go to see Artie and tell him the news. I show him the ring, and I can see he's pleased, but a little sad, too. "What is it?" I ask him when Marcus takes Juney and gives us a minute alone.

"Nothing, kiddo. Time goes so fast. It wasn't so far back I felt just like you do now. But you kids will make a go of it if anyone can."

I hug him then, my dad. Much as I love him, Marcus and I are different from him and Mom. I know that, and right on cue Marcus enters the room, and I look at him over Artie's shoulder, and we smile.

Marcus comes in then, and Artie lets me go. He and Marcus have already shaken hands. "I know she couldn't marry a better man."

Marcus nods. "Thanks, Artie. I'll take good care of her."

"Yeah well…goes without saying I know where you live." Marcus laughs a little nervously. Artie still doesn't know about the mixer toss.

It's all love when we leave the hospital. "Got homework, bud?" I say to Juney as we get back in the truck.

"No!" he says too loudly. "Just some spelling."

"Oh, spelling…homework. Get this kid home so he can spell his words for me," I say to Marcus. "Yeah you've been little free bird without a mom around but all that's gonna change now, Precious. All that's gonna change."

Juney looks at me shaking his head. "You are crazy."

Marcus says, "Juney."

"Sorry…crazy," Juney whispers to me, and I tap him on the nose.

"Crazy about you," I whisper back, and he groans.

So I get my old job back, and that's not hard at all. But the girls there now, they wonder what's so special about me? Well, I haven't lost my touch, I'm all around good at this job, and this place is not as clean as it used to be, I saw that on Thanksgiving. So what's the deal?

I stay late and get busy. The true test of a clean restaurant is the walls and windows by the booths. I hate sitting and eating while looking at old food splattered on the blinds.

This is supposed to be Coy's job now. He's unemployed so Teresa has hired him to come in at night and clean. But he doesn't clean very well. He does, however, pop a can of beer right off.

"What are you doing here?" he says.

"Working," I say.

He's a big boy, that Coy. He has big shoulders, hands like hams, I mean one of those hands could flavor a pan of Orc beans. And fleshy cheeks. He's always a red color, and I can hear him breathe. He has this beard thingy. Yeah, it's not working either.

But he's Teresa's baby, and I've known him for years. So he's drinking his beer and watching me do his job. Teresa is in the kitchen prepping for tomorrow. Working hard won't make me any friends, but I'm not here to make friends, and my dad and future husband are thinking of buying this place, well they are buying it so put a sock in it I'm not going away.

So I'm standing on one of the booths and assessing the top of the blinds and yeah I could write the preamble to the Constitution up here and make a sweater.

"Man, Coy, you call this clean?" I say tackling the dander.

"Nobody sees up there," he says then he chugs his brew.

I'm messing with the first window, but there are six of these. I carefully step down. He's still leaning his elbow on the bar.

"Yeah but they see down here," I say as I start wiping the blinds along the bottom. I'm a bitch, I know, but it's after midnight, and I've been on my feet, and he deserves it.

We have the Christmas decorations pulled out ready to go, and I'm not putting them over dirt.

"Hey Coy, you start the other end. That's three apiece, yeah you're welcome for doing your job."

"Nobody asked you to do it," he says, spoken like a real under-achiever.

Here's the deal. This is my first day to work. And Marcus is not thrilled I'm working. I had been planning on watching Juney and I will continue while Marcus is working extra to help out Artie. Trouble is Teresa took me on right away cause it's the holiday season. And in two short weeks, Artie will be home, and Juney will be on Christmas vacation, and he can come up here with me for a while, or he can just stay with Artie. But Marcus isn't convinced that my head is okay yet, and he thinks I rushed into working when I need to rest. And he still is disappointed I'm not in a holding pattern willing and able to be available once he gets off of work. And while I want that too, the truth is…I'm used to earning.

I have his ring to pay for. He says no, he doesn't care about tradition he's already paid for it with his debit card and all that, and I say no I'm buying his ring. And I have Christmas shopping to do. My truck needs tires. Marcus wants to give me money, he says he'll pay me not to work for a while, but no way. Artie would also give me money if I asked but fact is I've been earning a check since I started washing dishes here at fifteen and working is what I do.

I don't know who I'm arguing with. I keep breaking down the windows and washing the crud. We need the sunshine to do this right, but the moon will have to do.

Coy has lead in his ass. I'm on the third window, and he's still fighting the cord on the blinds on the first one, and I cleaned most of that already myself. He's got a baked potato for a brain. Teresa was right about that useless upriver man.

His sperm were stunted like a couple of tadpoles baking in a puddle—meet Coy and his brother.

"Need some help?" I say to Coy.

He doesn't answer. He's smart enough to know I'm riding his butt.

That's when Marcus comes in cause Coy left the door unlocked when we're supposed to be closed just like I left Marcus's open when Jessica got in but Marcus coming in is the very best mistake Coy's ever made in his life.

"Hey," he says to me right off. He pretty much ignores Coy. "How's my girl?" he says getting closer.

"Your girl," Coy says.

Marcus doesn't answer.

"Heard how you did Jessica," he says, and now we both ignore him.

I am trying not to swallow my tongue my fiancé looks so good. He's still in uniform and jacket, and he has a new haircut he must have gotten in Litchfield when he moved that prisoner earlier today.

"Hey Coy, I think I hear your mother calling," I say, but he doesn't hear me. He's starting on the next window so he can look industrious in front of Marcus is my guess since he's almost the boss already. But Marcus hears me and he laughs like I'm very cute.

"Why you still working," Marcus says with an admiring smile. I'll bet he already went home and saw I wasn't there. Or better yet he's been by here a few times wondering when I'm leaving.

"We're decorating," I say, but I don't explain it all how one thing led to another with the dirt.

"You going on fourteen hours or something?" he says, and he puts his arms around me so it's like that, apparently we're not going to sneak around. "Mom has Junior," he says low.

Well, it's Friday night, a night that at one time exacerbated my loneliness in college. And only for a couple of nights when I first moved to Chicago. Myron White came on strong right away, and I was thrown, so thrown. I was homesick for…Marcus…well just sick over him. And Myron being older…it was comfort…and I was flattered.

Marcus let me go. He never made a move, and I didn't think he would, I was sure he wouldn't.

Now Friday night has a whole new meaning. Well, every night has new potential.

Mentally I'm a total sex crazed maniac pretty much.

And tomorrow we are planning a real live Christmas kick-off extravaganza of cookie making and Christmas tree decorating and movie watching at Marcus's. Then on Sunday a repeat at Artie's. But guess what, I have to work for a while on Saturday. Not the original plan, but Marcus has to work too so Juney will have to stay at Elaine's for a while.

We are holding each other for a little too long to make sense in the current setting with saggy pants Coy giving us the eye. My preoccupation with Marcus Stover is consuming. That's what really drove me out of the house to get my old job back. I couldn't just sit around and wait for Marcus. I cleaned Artie's and then I faced my own friggin' restlessness.

"I missed you," I say, and it's almost too much, and he has his hands on my arms, and he squeezes a little, and I know I can't say anymore. It's too true and raw and real and exhilarating.

I want to go to bed every night with this man beside me. I want it and him. I want to sleep with him, hold him, roll into him, steal his covers, hear him snore, rub my cold feet on him, and other stuff. I want all of it with him.

So everything I am doing when he shows up just loses its air, its steam. He's here, he's the pied piper, and I'm a dirty rat.

So in no time, I'm following him home. I park at my house, and I run upstairs and shower off the grime from Billy's. The whole time I'm expecting Marcus to rip back the curtain, and it has me on edge. I don't know how far he'll go. I shave a few things, lotion up a few things. I'm dewey and fragrant and damp when I run across the street, and he whips the door open, and he's in sweats and a t-shirt, and he pulls me in, and we make it to the couch, and it's still dark, and he's on the bottom, me over him, straddling him as it turns out, and kiss, kiss, kiss, and his hands under my hoodie and my undershirt, right on my skin his warm hands. "I thought about this all week," he says between working me over.

"Yeah," I get out. Oh yeah.

The window is still boarded up, and the coffee table is no more but other than that it's cozy. He's kissing me down my neck, and I scream. I just scream. It's all I can do to release the crazy. He laughs and moans and keeps going and Merry Christmas to me. "Tell me you'll do this for the rest of our lives," I say.

"Yeah, when we take our vows, that's what I'm saying," he says.