Look How You Turned Out (19 page)

We stand before the pastor in a bit of a knot. There's Marcus and me center of the cake, our arms locked. Juney is beside Marcus, then David. Other side of me is Teresa first, Artie in his chair beside her. What the…? I may be the only woman in the world to get married with her dad practically beside her.

The only one not accounted for is Elaine. I can hear her sniffling as she moves around taking pictures.

So here we are, a crescent shaped throng, but I'm not confused who I'm speaking my vows to. I have barely looked anywhere else. At other's weddings, I've wondered how they can stare for so long into one another's eyes, but it's not hard now, it's where I must look, the sweetest place, my emotions untied, retied…over and over.

The sweet gaze of my lover permeates me.

The pastor reads, "The Christian wedding ceremony is rooted in God's creation of marriage from the very beginning. He designed marriage in his wisdom to enable us to handle the difficulties of life as well as to be a source of companionship and joy. May this be true for you as you purpose in your hearts to honor Christ, and to exercise patience and sacrifice for the good of one another. As you come to the threshold of a new life together, I encourage you to take your vows with earnest dependence on the grace of Christ."

Then to Marcus, "Marcus, do you before God and these witnesses take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife; and do you promise that from this day forward you will be her faithful husband, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

Clear and strong he answers, "I do."

The pastor repeats this for me…better or worse, richer or poorer, sickness and health, love, cherish, till death.

"I do."

"Repeat after me," he says to Marcus.

Marcus slides the ring on my finger and looks into my eyes as he repeats, "I, Marcus, take you, Bedilia, to be my wedded wife. And I promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful husband; in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, for as long as we both shall live."

He squeezes my hand and smiles. He lifts my hand and kisses over the ring.

Teresa hands me Marcus's class ring, and I slide it on his finger as I repeat, "I, Bedilia, take you, Marcus, to be my wedded husband. And I promise and covenant, before God and these witnesses, to be your loving and faithful wife; in plenty and in want, in joy and in sorrow, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live."

Artie sobs then turns it into a cough. I don't look at him.

The minister says the Lord's Prayer, and Artie is sighing into his handkerchief.

The pastor pronounces, "Marcus and Bedilia have promised to take each other as husband and wife to live together in a Christian marriage. They have given rings as a token of this covenant. Therefore, they now enter into the holy state of matrimony. As a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, I now pronounce them husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no one separate."

Marcus draws me against him, and we kiss. I am on my tiptoes, and his arms are around me, the tiny flowers crushed between us. "I love you," he whispers when we stop to breathe.

"I love you," I say, tingling from the warmth of his mouth.

The minister introduces us to the flash of Elaine's camera. When the bright spot ebbs in my vision, I see a couple of patients sitting in the back and a couple of nurses. The nurses are clapping for us.

About that time I realize Juney is standing in front of me, speechless for once. I hug him, and his hands touch me lightly and briefly in return. "Just call me Mommy, Dearest," I whisper.

"Nahhh!" he is saying with a tortured smile as I let him go. "You look like Belle from Beauty and the Beast," he kind of accuses with this awkward look on his face.

I have to laugh right before Marcus crushes me in another hug.

Then Dad is tugging on me. His eyes are red. "Come here kiddo," and I am bent over now hugging him in his chair.

"Where's your pants?" I ask, taking note during the hug that he still wears his sweats.

"I couldn't get those damn things on," he says. But he wears the shirt and tie, and he has one of those thin and folded white hospital blankets sort of over his legs. "Congratulations, kiddo. You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Dad," I say straightening. I will not cry.

Artie pumps Marcus's arm, then David, then David hugs me, then the minister shakes our hands and Marcus reaches inside his jacket pocket and gives the minister an envelope. "Remember, about three sessions," he says to Marcus before he leaves.

"Three sessions of premarital counseling," Marcus says.

"Those guys…always making deals," I say.

And so we leave the chapel arm in arm and go to the conference room where Teresa has set up the small buffet meal. It smells like Billy's in here, and while others gather around and fill plates, Elaine asks us into the hall and down to the fireplace where she takes some more pictures. Then she gives Marcus an envelope. "Don so wanted to be here," she says.

"I know," he answers.

Don is out of town.

She tells him how proud she is, and he says he knows. We go back to the room, and he asks me if I'm hungry, and I'm not. "Me either," he says.

"Well, everyone thanks for coming. We're going to shove off," Marcus says.

"A bag from me is in Marcus's truck," Elaine whispers.

"What bag?" I say.

"Be good," Marcus says to Juney.

"Don't worry about a thing," David says.

"What?" I say, but I'm ignored.

Pretty soon I have Artie's big coat thrown over my shoulders, and Marcus is pulling me at a break-neck pace to his truck.

"We have one night in the city. The honeymoon suite," he says. People are staring, nurses are laughing, and he swoops me up, right off my feet, and I whoop a little because I wasn't expecting it, and he carries me in my floating white retro cloud out to his truck.

Marcus carries me from the hospital to the truck, and we get there, and he puts me on my feet and says, "Take off the coat, I'll keep you warm…Wife."

Big grin and he is already pulling Artie's coat from around my shoulders, and he wrenches the door open and crams the big coat behind the seat. Then he takes off his suit jacket and says, "Put this on," and I do, and he helps me get on the running board, then in, and he says, "All the way over." And I scoot to the middle of the seat as he slams my door and he rounds the truck in warp speed and gets in the driver's side.

"You're kind of bossy," I say, and he laughs and kisses me and whispers, "Mrs. Stover," and he rubs his nose a couple of times with mine and I hate to tell him but he's probably got a little Bare Minerals on there now.

He starts the truck and cold air blasts out of the vents and Christmas music blares out of the radio, and we look at one another and laugh cause we know who that was…Mr. Juney.

He turns down the radio and the air, and smiles at me and puts it in gear and I'm holding onto that arm, and I feel the muscles shift as he drives. Our bodies are touching wherever they can.

"Well, we did it," he says, eyes on me as much as the road, maybe more.

"Yeah," I say. He'd called me wife. Mrs. Stover.

"Happy?" he says.

"Ecstatic," I answer.

"Me too." He looks so proud of himself. Then back at me, "You look beautiful, you know," he says.

"This old thing?" and my hand takes a pinch and lifts it and lets it poof.

"You," he says. "Beautiful."

He drives toward home. It's then I pay attention to the bag at my feet. It's a brown paper bag with my name written on it. I lean for it and lift it onto my lap.

"That's from Mom," he says.

I unfold the top and look inside, finger through tissue paper. I feel the cold fabric and lift it partly out. It's a simple soft white nightgown. It gets to me that she would think of this.

"It's beautiful," I whisper.

He laughs. "You won't need it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You won't need it," he laughs.

I stare at him a minute, and he radiates joy and…mischief. It lights his handsomeness like Christmas or something.

I put the gown back in the bag and grab back onto his arm. He looks at me, and I look at him, and we smile.

He takes us home, and he's giving me five minutes. He's coming in with me to undo my dress. So we get out of the truck, and I already have my door open when he gets there, and I'm lifting the dress and his eyes are right there. "Oh, playing nurse?" he says ogling my white legs.

I don't answer, I hike my skirts and get to the door and get it open, and he's right behind me, he swings me up in his arms again and carries me over the threshold. I am laughing, and he sets me down, and I swear the old concussion makes a show because I stagger a little, and he catches me. "What's the matter?"

"Little dizzy," I say.

"Whoops. You need to eat," he says, his fingers against my cheek.

I turn and let his jacket slide down my arms, and he takes it and folds it over his arm so he can undo the long row of buttons down my back.

"Holy…," he says really observing the task. He carefully smooths my hair over my shoulder. "Don't ever cut this," he says.

"Have to cancel that appointment with Jessica," I say.

"Not funny," he says, and I feel his knuckles against my back as he begins the task. He fumbles a little, but he's patient.

"What maniac thought of this," he does mutter once.

Then he's kissing where the buttons are open. "You taste like cream," he says.

I don't have a reply. Maybe I don't need that nightgown.

When he's finished, and he's run his hands between the open sides in back, his hands span my waist. "You're so small I can almost touch my fingers in front." He tries harder. "I can."

I slowly turn, and he readjusts his hands and they smooth over my back. I say, "Just a little making out, and I have to get upstairs, or we'll never get out of…." His lips are on mine and oh yes, I am on my tiptoes, and we shift, and I fall into a deep lean against him, and he's up for it. He pulls me right up, and the dress is full enough I can wrap my legs around him, and he makes sure I'm in good position. It's a kiss only married people should know about, but I already know about it from other times because he doesn't hold anything back when he gets going. Oh god, I want to go straight up the stairs to the bed. Heck with wherever we're going. We only need the Serta, and we're good to go, or these stairs will do.

"Bedilia," he is saying because even though we've stopped kissing I haven't caught up, and I haven't moved or opened my eyes. But I slowly do. He has literally put me in a hypnotic state.

"Bedilia," he says again, soft but proud like always, "go upstairs and change your clothes and pack lightly we're coming back tomorrow." He sets me on my feet before the stairs, and he's telling me he's running across the street to change, and he'll meet me in the truck in five minutes. Five minutes.

I don't nod or anything. I lift the dress high and walk up the stairs to my room. I am so glad to be me. If this is self-esteem, I'm a geyser.

He isn't kidding about the five minutes. He has the audacity to beep the horn. "Really?" I say aloud, looking for my shoes.

So I find my shoes and grab my bag, and I run downstairs and have to stop at the bottom because I'm dizzy again, all that time looking under my bed for my shoes.

In the kitchen I put some of our cookies in a little bag, and I look around, and it dawns on me, after today I won't live here anymore, and a big block of 'what the heck' threatens, and I run out of there. Once outside I make sure the door is locked then I hurry to the truck. I get in, stow my stuff, and he hands me a Twinkie, and I hold up the bag of cookies, and we laugh.

Then he hands me one of Juney's little bottles of milk. "You're so good to us kids," I tell him.

He peels the top off that little glug, and I open the Twinkie and insist he takes the first bite. Then I do a little pantomime while I finish the Twinkie, saying 'mmmm,' and I let some of the whipped cream stay on the corner of my mouth and look in the mirror to verify its location, then point to it, and he takes one last look at the road, and he licks it off, and he swerves a little and laughs and says, "Okay Officer, get a grip!"

And it's pretty much that way for the next sixty miles until we cross the river and end up downtown and he pulls underneath a high-rise hotel that overlooks the river, and a valet comes forward and gets my door. I reach inside and get my stuff wishing I'd put the gown in my overnight case and didn't have to hold a brown paper bag, but it's all good when Marcus takes everything from me anyway, and we walk close as we can through the glass doors.