Dream Wedding

Rules of Engagement

(December 16-18, 2013)

I hear the delivery truck crunching its way up the driveway, and then the unmistakable sound of wheels spinning to get traction on the ice. But that shouldn’t be—a truck should be heavy enough to make it to the house without any trouble, even with the crummy conditions outside.

I look out the window, and I’m right. There is no truck, which means there is no new washing machine, which is the whole reason I’m home this morning. What there is, stuck in the middle of the driveway, wheels still spinning uselessly, is a taxi. Which makes no sense at all. Who would be coming here in a taxicab at ten o’clock on a Monday morning? And from where?

The door opens and someone steps out. I can’t tell if they’re young or old, male or female—there could be anything under that parka, and the ski mask covers every inch of skin on their face except for the two tiny white dots of their eyes. Whoever it is, they’re taking pity on the taxi driver—my visitor stands in front of the cab and pushes until, after a minute of very unpleasant sounds, the car begins inching backwards. He—or she—stands there, waiting, until the taxi is back on Gilbert Lane, and then begins to trudge slowly to the door.

It can’t be anyone I know, because if it were, they’d just walk right in. They wouldn’t stand there and knock politely at the door the way this person is.

I let them in, and it’s a good thirty seconds of unzipping and unbuttoning before I realize who’s standing in my kitchen and tracking slush all over the floor that hasn’t been mopped in—I have no idea how long, honestly.

Seth! Underneath all the arctic gear is a young man not all that much taller than I am, wearing a nervous smile. He tries, pointlessly, to flatten his wavy brown hair. What are you doing here? Lizzie didn’t say anything about you visiting.

Seth Taylor is a senior at Crewe University, and he lives in the building next to her, just a few hundred feet away. He’s also been her on-and-off boyfriend for most of her three and a half years at college, and to hear Lizzie tell it it’s been a lot more on than off since their senior year began in September. If he weren’t smiling—although the smile is becoming more nervous with each passing second—I’d wonder if he was here to deliver bad news about my daughter.

No, Dr. Alderson. She doesn’t know I’m here. It’s—it’s a surprise. Yes, it is. Especially because Lizzie isn’t flying home until Wednesday, two days from now.

I let that pass. I also let it pass that it’s a little bit presumptuous to show up unannounced on our doorstep and expect me to find a spare bed for him for two nights. Not that I have any problem with him visiting, or sleeping in Ben’s room for a couple of nights. He’s done it enough times the last four years he’s known Lizzie, after all. Still, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect some advance notice.

I put all that aside. It’s Sara. Please. How many times do I have to tell you that? I gesture for him to sit, and he does, but he can’t quite meet my eyes.

I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead, Doctor. I’ve never known him to be this nervous. Granted, I don’t know him that well, but he’s always struck me as a very confident young man. I didn’t want—I mean, it’s not the kind of thing you do over the phone. And I didn’t want her sister to find out and tell her. I want it to be a surprise.

I have no idea what he’s…

Yes, I do. What was I just saying to myself? More on than off? I think he’s about to tell me that it’s about as on as you can get.

Oh! You’re—Seth, you know perfectly well that Lizzie won’t be here until Wednesday, don’t you? He nods. You expected to catch me alone. You probably went to the hospital first, didn’t you? Another nod. You came here to ask me… I can’t say the words out loud, but he nods just the same.

How is this possible? She’s not even twenty-one yet! She doesn’t graduate for another six months, and then she’ll be going on to medical school. How can he possibly think that I would approve…

I can’t take my eyes off the ring, Grandma Roberta’s engagement ring. My engagement ring. I feel—I don’t even know. Everything. My heart is racing, as though it’s going to burst right out of my chest. My hands are sweating, and everything is just so loud and so bright, I don’t know how I’m supposed to hold it all in.

I knew this was going to happen. I saw it, I saw Brian’s dream, and I made Mom take me to the salon and lend me her diamond earrings. But I still don’t understand how it can be real, how this can be happening to me. How can I be so lucky? And how can Mom and Dad be so calm about it, just sitting there as though this kind of thing happens every day?

Doctor? Seth is staring at me, finally looking me in the eye. How long was I back there, almost twenty-five years ago? How long was he calling my name?

I’m not going to overreact. I’m going to deal with this calmly, like an adult. My parents did it, and so can I. I’m sorry. I was—you know what? I’m not going to lie to you, I say. I get up and go to the fridge. There must be something—yes, right there! It ought to be champagne, but last night’s Merlot will have to do. I grab two wineglasses from the cupboard, and I pour us each a glass. I was remembering the day Brian proposed to me. And I was thinking about my parents. I was watching them, and wondering how they could be taking it so well. They had to be nervous about it, you know? I was only twenty-one, and it was the summer before my senior year, and Brian was two years younger, and there we were getting engaged.

I knew that, that you were Lizzie’s age when you got engaged, he says. I was eight months older than she is now, actually, but I don’t say it. That would just be arguing for argument’s sake. I played it all out in my head, I had flash cards for all the reasons why it makes sense. ‘She’s the same age you were when you got engaged’ was point number three. I watch the color—and the confidence—returning to his face.

I have to laugh at that. I remember Brian’s dream, the night before he proposed. He never even had the chance to ask my father for his blessing; Dad beat him to it. He knew it was coming. Which just proves that, as usual, my Dad is a lot faster on the uptake than I am. Well, you can save all the points and reasons and arguments. Just tell me one thing. The only thing that really matters. Do you love Lizzie?

Yes. He doesn’t shout it, but there’s strength and certainty in that one word, and I have no doubt at all he’s telling me the truth.

Well, then, I clink my glass to his, You have my blessing. And my husband’s. I have no doubt, either, that Brian would agree. And I’m pretty sure I know why Seth didn’t wait until Brian was here, too, to ask the both of us. You’re heading back down to your parents this afternoon, I assume? And coming back here later in the week, when Lizzie is home?

Yes Doc—Sara. I flew into LaGuardia, and I’ll take the Metro North into the city and the Acela home to Virginia. I’ll take it back up here Wednesday afternoon. He’s got it all planned out. But that’s no surprise—he plans everything out. I would have come when Mr. Alderson—uh, Brian—was home, too. But then Stephanie would be here, and I don’t think she’d keep the secret until Lizzie comes home.

No, I don’t, either. There’s no way my youngest daughter could keep that to herself for two full days. She’d probably have it posted on Facebook ten seconds after she heard it. And it’s no surprise that Seth knows it, too. I knew how sharp he was the first time he came to visit, three years ago. Ben and Helen were here for Christmas, and when my father-in-law heard Seth talking about playing chess, he challenged Seth to a game. I had never seen Ben Alderson lose his cool before, but getting crushed by an eighteen-year-old kid who had the nerve to be interested in his granddaughter did the trick.

They play every time they’re both here, and Ben has yet to beat him, or even give him much of a challenge, honestly. So Seth definitely knows about planning ahead and anticipating obstacles and problems. Which are good qualities for someone who hopes to be a lawyer.

There’s just one more thing, Seth, I say. I’m sure I know the answer, but I ask anyway. Have you already picked out a ring?

Yes, he says, all his nerves gone now. When I was home over Thanksgiving, I went looking. I put down a deposit, and I’ll pick it up tomorrow.

No, he won’t. You know what, I think I have a better idea. You can get your deposit back and save the money for your honeymoon. Come with me. He gives me a blank look, but he obediently gets up and follows me into my bedroom. I go into the back of the closet, kneel down and open our safe. And there it is—a tiny jewelry box. I hand it to Seth. Go ahead, open it. He does, and he gasps at the sight. That was my grandmother’s. Her great-grandmother’s. I told her, years ago, if she wanted it, it was hers. I think she’d love it if you gave it to her, don’t you?

His eyes are wide, his mouth is hanging open. I’ll take that as a yes.

I deserve some kind of award for keeping quiet about Seth’s visit until Brian and I are in bed. I did try to call him at work, but he was in meetings every time I tried, and, as Seth said, this isn’t the sort of news you deliver over the phone. Definitely not on a voicemail!

After I took him to the train station, I spent a good hour just staring into my bedroom mirror and wondering how in the world I missed Lizzie growing up from a dark-haired bundle of energy following me around at Children’s Hospital, into a beautiful young woman who’s going to have a fiancé two days from now. It seems impossible, but it happened all the same.

I was so lost in those thoughts that I almost missed the delivery truck. The driver was about to leave when I finally heard him. I was completely distracted while he got the new washer installed in the basement. All I could think was that, in a little while, Lizzie will have her own washer, in her own place. And before too long after that, she’ll be starting her own family. And if her being engaged seems impossible, there’s not a word in the English language for how unthinkable that idea is.

I don’t know how I got through dinner and dessert and two hours of TV in the living room without blurting it all out, but I managed it.

Brian climbs into bed with me and says, without preamble, Sara, are you going to tell me what you’ve been obsessing about all night? Well, I thought I managed it, anyway.

I’m not sure how to tell you this. I—I said I’d help keep it secret, because you know how Stephanie is. Otherwise I would have told you as soon as you got home.

Tell me what? He’s smiling. I wonder if he still will be in a moment?

Seth—Lizzie’s boyfriend…

He nods. I know who Seth is, he says. What about him?

He—well, he came to see me this morning. He flew here, so he could come ask me in person.

Brian mouths the words, ask me in person several times before recognition dawns. He—you don’t mean—he’s going to—they’re going to—why didn’t you call me? His voice rises with every word; he’s nearly shouting by the time he gets to the end.

I tried! I couldn’t leave it on your voicemail. That—it just wasn’t right. And I couldn’t let Stephanie hear, because we both know she’d tell Lizzie, and everyone else she knows, two seconds after she heard it. He can’t argue with that, but he’s still not quite accepting the whole idea yet. I can almost read his thoughts as they play across his face—he’s going through all the reasons this is completely insane and arguing with himself about it.

She’s too young! She’s not even twenty-one yet!

I put my arms around him, pull myself close. I whisper to him, She’ll be twenty-one in two weeks. I was only a few months older than that when you proposed to me.

I’ll bet he said the same thing, Brian growls.

He would have, if I hadn’t said it first, I say, still whispering, trying to hold back laughter. He had all his reasons why it’s a good idea written out on index cards. That was number three.

What were the first two?

I shake my head. I never asked. He—look, all I needed to know is whether he loves her, and when I asked him and he said yes, I believed him.

He pulls away from me, looks me in the eye. What about whether she loves him?

If she doesn’t, she’ll say no. He nods at that. If we didn’t teach her anything else, I’m pretty sure she knows that. All of our kids do.

I get up, go to the bathroom to get a glass of water, but there’s something strange when I turn the faucet on. Brian’s right behind me, and I ask him, Do you smell that? He gives me a blank look. Chlorine? You don’t smell it? A couple of times a year, the town’s water is re-chlorinated. But if it was that, why can’t Brian smell it at all?

And why do I suddenly want to drag him back to the bed and…?

I know why. I mean, I always want to do that, but why this moment, and why is the urge so strong? Because it’s a memory. Smell and memory are connected—certain smells can instantly return you to the time and place you first encountered them. I guess it works backwards, too—memories can make you think you’re smelling something from that time and place.

After Brian proposed to me, after our parents were finished ooh-ing and aah-ing, Brian and I went for a drive, just to have a little time to ourselves. And I took him straight to the pool where I had worked as a lifeguard during the summer in high school. The pool with the changing room that I still had a key for, the changing room that I knew would be empty.

And now Brian knows exactly what’s going through my mind. I don’t need to drag him to the bed, or rip off his pajamas; he takes care of that all by himself. He does, somehow, find a moment in between undressing himself and undressing me to say, I don’t think there’s another person in the whole world who associates chlorine with engagement rings.

But I’m already too involved, too out of breath, to answer him. With words, anyway.

By the time I come home from the hospital Wednesday evening to find Seth sitting on the sofa next to Lizzie, I feel like the actual proposal will be almost anti-climactic. I’ve had two days to think about it, to imagine everyone’s reaction, to play out every conversation between everyone in the house in my head.

I don’t think Lizzie has any idea yet. She got home a little before noon, stopped by the hospital to say hello to me, and then spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for her boyfriend to arrive. The fact that he showed up in a suit and tie didn’t alert her, because that’s how he’s been dressed every time he’s come here to visit. I don’t understand it, personally, but I suppose he’s just old-fashioned. There are certainly worse things for my daughter’s future husband to be.

It takes another hour for the rest of the family to gather. Brian is the last to show up, and he brings dinner home with him—two bags full of take-out Chinese. As we eat, it occurs to me that Seth might have arranged somehow to put the ring into a fortune cookie, and I’m a little nervous when my father passes them around to everyone.

But that’s not his style, as it turns out. He does it very simply. After the fortune cookies, after all the dishes are in the dishwasher—which he helps with—he walks back into the living room, goes to Lizzie, gets down on one knee. My father gasps, Stephanie stares at Lizzie and Seth in complete shock, and Lizzie just looks confused.

Elizabeth Kathleen Alderson, he says, pulling the box out of his jacket pocket, I’ve loved you for four years. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I hope I’ll never have to. Will you marry me?

Lizzie shrieks, and, nearly in unison, my mother and I do, too. The tears I thought I wouldn’t cry come suddenly, in a flood, blinding me. My little baby, engaged! It’s—it’s impossible. She’s just a girl. It was only yesterday she was following me around on my rounds at Children’s Hospital, learning how to check someone’s blood pressure before she learned to read. When did she turn into a woman who’s wearing my grandmother’s ring, who’s taller than I am, who’s going to be starting medical school herself next fall?

So much for anti-climactic!

All the noise brings the dog running into the room. Our beagle, Bucky, begins howling, trying to match Lizzie and Mom and me. I try to pull myself together, but it’s not until a half-hour later, when Lizzie and Seth have gone out for a drive so they can have at least a few minutes to themselves, that I begin to calm down.

My mother gives me a knowing look and asks, I wonder where they’re going? I shrug, and she pats me on the head. Probably not to the public pool, anyway.

Oh, God. I go completely red, and I have to force myself not to run down to the basement and lock the door behind me. But I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course Mom knew what Brian and I were up to when we just wanted to take a little drive after he proposed, for one simple reason. She wasn’t, and isn’t, a complete idiot.

I wonder where, exactly, my daughter and her brand-new fiancée are headed, and then I put that thought right out of my head. I’m not naïve enough to convince myself they’re not doing precisely what Brian and I did, but I do have enough willpower to not dwell on the subject. Instead, I just sigh, and focus on my mother Probably not, Mom. I just hope that I’m not going to spend the next twenty years reminding Lizzie about all the things that she didn’t think I knew about.

Now Mom hugs me. You will, honey. It runs in the family. You won’t be able to help yourself. I’m sure she’s right. I may not always have realized it in the moment, but she’s almost always been right, all my life.

I’m lying in bed waiting for Brian. I’m still overwhelmed by Lizzie’s engagement. I don’t know why it hit me so hard—I had advance warning, and, anyway, she’s known Seth for four years, which is three and a half years longer than I knew Brian when he proposed. And she’s also moving slower than we did in another way. While it’s true that she’s eight months younger than I was when I got engaged, it happened the summer before my senior year started. She waited until halfway through senior year. So what do I have to be worried about?

I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice my husband until he’s standing at the side of the bed, setting a big glass of water down on the side table. He’s got his other hand clenched into a fist, as though he’s holding something in it, and now I see that he is. He drops a big white pill into the glass. I’m confused. Upset stomach? You seemed fine earlier, I say, waiting for the fizz that’s supposed to follow the plop. But it must not be Alka-Seltzer. It’s not really fizzing at all, although the pill is slowly dissolving.

I do feel fine. I just thought it might be nice to set the mood, he answers, taking his pajamas off. For a moment, I have no idea what he’s talking about for a second or two, and then the smell hits me. It wasn’t a pill at all.

Of course it wasn’t. It was a chlorine tablet. Oh, God, you are just unbelievable, I say, dissolving into laughter. I reach up, pull him down into a kiss, and I don’t want to ever let him go.

Meet the Parents

(March 1-2, 2014)

Sara, face it, Brian says, pushing the calculator at me. We can either invite everyone you and your mother and my parents want to the wedding, or we can send Ben to college. One or the other.

It’s not that bad! I was conservative on my list, but there are some guests that are not negotiable. Lizzie’s godfather has to be at the wedding. And we can’t very well invite Joseph and Mary without inviting their kids, too. Laurie has to come, and that means her partner, Kate, will be coming. Janet Black is obvious—I was Matron of Honor at her wedding, how can we not ask her? So her husband and their son are on the list, too. Obviously everyone from the hospital has to be invited, and any friends Lizzie wants to invite from high school...

Oh, God, I say, sighing deeply. You’re right. We’re going to end up with five hundred people on the guest list, aren’t we? Maybe Ben will want to take a year off before starting college. Lots of kids do that, don’t they? I guess he can wait a year so we can recover from the bill for his sister’s wedding, can’t he?

Brian doesn’t bother answering me. I don’t blame him.

I soldier on, grasping for any hope I can. She said she didn’t want a huge wedding, didn’t she? She did say that, sitting at this very table. And I remember that I said it, too, twenty-three years ago. I assume my thoughts are showing on my face, because Brian shakes his head. Again, he doesn’t need to say a word. I know, I know. Just because she said it, doesn’t mean she meant it. He gets up from the kitchen table, pours himself a glass of water. When he sits back down, I take one more shot. Let’s be rational about this. We’re going to see her tomorrow anyway. Maybe if we just cap it at two hundred guests, a hundred for her and a hundred for Seth and his family. You think she’ll go for that?

Probably, he says. At least until she starts actually making the list. A hundred sounds like a lot, but…

I do some quick mental math, and he’s absolutely right. I’ve got thirty-four for our side, just counting family and people who might as well be. And that’s assuming none of the single adults bring a date. For about the millionth time since I first became a parent, twenty-one years ago, I silently apologize to my parents for not having any idea just how much they did for me when I was growing up. At least Mark Hines, the general manager of the Hudson Inn, is cutting us a break on the price. That’ll help. If we can manage to talk Lizzie into limiting the guest list, we might be able to get away with holding the cost for the reception under $25,000.

Yeah, Brian says. It will. And then it just leaves us with the ceremony, and her dress, and the wedding cake, and flowers, and renting a shuttle bus to get people from the train station to the hotel, and their honeymoon. Oh, and keeping smiles on our faces the whole time, instead of thinking about how we could buy a new car and new furniture for the whole house, too, with what we’re spending on a three-hour event.

That part is priceless, I say, smiling. Just like the credit card commercial says. Right? Besides, my parents never said a word about how much our wedding cost, or our honeymoon. Or about helping us pay for this house. Or any of the other items on the endless list of gifts they’ve given us. This is how we pay them back. And Brian gets it.

I know. I’m happy to do it for her, really. It’s just, seeing it all totaled up like this, it’s hard to think about, you know?

I do know. And that’s not the only thing that’s difficult about Lizzie’s wedding. As hard as becoming grandparents?

Brian yelps—there’s no other word to describe the sound—and nearly jumps out of his chair. I