Look How You Turned Out (21 page)

We are tired in the morning. Marcus insists on going out crack of dawn to the pharmacy and bringing home a water based feminine product. He's already an authority on every miracle produced to relieve my burning situation.

But I am feeling better, so much so that I don't want to put anything down there that it might not like.

He says he would have talked to the pharmacist, but she wasn't on duty.

"Wait," I say pulling my sweater over my undershirt. "You would do that?"

"What?"

"Talk to a pharmacist about my…," I wave toward the red river valley.

"Yes," he says like I'm daft.

"No way."

"Why would they care? It's their job to know about medications."

"No. You miss the point. You should care. You should be embarrassed. Right?"

"My wife needs something…what the hell do I care what people think?"

That's pretty sweet, like really sweet, but I want to get at what makes this man tick. "You mean you're not embarrassed to have a vagina conversation with a lady pharmacist," I say. "A vagina rash conversation? Come on. That's like, against your kind…right?"

"Bedilia," he chides me, "don't over-complicate things. There are too many things. Lots of women have these issues."

I sit on the edge of the bed across from him and pull on my socks. "You think I'm immature?"

"Maybe you're just used to being really private about girl things."

"Of course, I am. It's normal. Would you buy my Tampax?"

"You use Tampax? That's actually further confirmation your vaginismus isn't stage one…that and the fact that I've been…in." Big smile then.

"Yeah…I noticed." I turn more toward him. "You've spent hours on my vagina, haven't you?"

He smirks, "I've taken an interest…."

So much for making more love the last morning of our honeymoon. He tells me I need to stop apologizing. Actually, he says he forbids it, and I laugh that off.

"Listen to me," he says, holding me on his lap, "this one night with you was like an album of snapshots I'll carry around in my memory for the rest of my life."

I plunk my forehead on his and I'm looking up close at his lips. "Me too."

"You too?"

"Yeah. I can't improve on the snapshot thing so I'm latching on like a parasite," I say.

He kisses me then. "My little parasite."

He takes pictures of me all over the room, and I take a few of him. We take one together, and we both have these goofy smiles. I send that one to Elaine for Juney with a caption, "See you soon, Precious!"

It's weird to think my mother-in-law will see me clowning with her baby boy knowing what we've been doing…again, but like Marcus says in so many words…who cares. I have to get over some of my inhibitions. Well, if I think of myself in this room, for example, I've gotten over more than a few.

We stare out of our big window, our view, and we're looking at the river and the cars. Marcus is behind me, his arms around me, he's bent enough to have his chin on my shoulder, and he's pointing out things he wants to make sure I notice, and I'm doing the same.

I'm stealing myself to say good-bye to this place. Somewhere inside I think I'm ready to move on and try out this marriage thing for real.

We are eating breakfast at IHOP, which is an expunged version of Billy's, a more respectable version, definitely a more commercial version. It is the forgiven Billy's, the made clean and new Billy's, the soulless Billy's? Hmmm, I'm thinking on that when a text comes through. Connie is saying the puppies are ready. Could the timing be better? Really I've been vacillating ever since I heard about this litter of mutts she is hoping to find good homes for. And she's not the only one. At the restaurant, there's a bulletin board where you first walk in filled with the latest giveaways and for sales, and there's always cute canines on that board.

My first thought when Connie approached me was, 'Not me. When I'm ready for a dog, I'll get something small, not a Lab mix.'

But she sends me the picture, and I have to look and oh my gosh she is holding a black one, a male, sweetest thing, a fat baby, little paws looking like white Q-tips or something and that belly. She tags it, 'Are you, my mommy?'

I make a noise. It's kind of loud. "Connie," I say cause she's killing me here. I'm in love-mode anyway, hearts and rainbows, pastels in the dead of winter, that's me. And now this puppy?

"What is it?" Marcus asks before carefully sipping his hot coffee. I love the way he sips, that top lip poking out, awwww.

There's nothing he does that doesn't distract me from whatever I'm doing.

"What?" he says again.

Oh. I show him my phone.

"Oh no," he says drawing out the 'oh.'

"Marcus. He's perfect. You know he is. No ringworm. And the boy wouldn't be expecting it. He needs a dog. You said he hasn't had a pet in a long time. It will give us all something to start our family with. Something we'll love."

"We love each other," he reminds me with the patience of Pa Ingalls. "That's why we're sitting on the same side of the booth where you've got me trapped between your," he leans closer still, "hot little body and this wall." Okay, not Pa Ingalls. He stares a little long at my boobs and then my mouth which makes me lick my lips because my cappuccino had foam and you never know.

I just keep staring and I bat my eyelashes, not that they're as long as his, but I'm trying to work some magic here. I've been feeling a bit like a goddess, like a sex goddess, to be exact. It's amazing to think, I can satisfy this man no matter what my spazz does. I can satisfy this man, put that look on his face like I did this morning. It's a matter of creativity.

So now, it's like I am woman hear me roar. I mean…my boobs…I'm more aware of them now than when they first made

a show in eighth grade. Yes they were late, but they did make a show, more of a matinee than a major four-star production, but with him, they seem to get me a round of applause.

"How am I ever going to say no to you?" he questions, this little smirk on his face as he looks at me.

Yeah, that dog is ours.

I laugh, meaning, heck, give me my way all the time then. That's what Dad did, and it works out great.

Then the waitress comes and refills his coffee and my water and puts the bill on the table.

"Don't you want a dog?" I say.

"It's just, two years ago when the beagle ran away, and I had to go look for it, and he insisted on coming with me, and we found him in the road…well, this boy doesn't need more loss."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "Marcus...I remember Dad telling me that. But you can't protect him from those kinds of things. I mean…we'll do our best but…give Juney some credit, he's resilient. He shouldn't miss out on having a dog because the last one had an accident."

"I know. I was thinking about it anyway, but he didn't seem to mind not having one."

"I'm texting Connie," I say, my fingers already busy. Then I stop. "You did agree, right?"

"Sure."

"I mean you would tell me if…you can say no…if that's what you mean…right?"

"I think I can manage," he says softly, a big smile as he continues eating.

"Today? Like on the way home, we can pick him up? We could go to the store, and I'll find out the food and stuff, get all his gear?" My fingers are poised.

"Yeah. Go for it," he says. I can see now, it's timing. Very important. Right now? This man would consent to about anything. He is mellow, yellow, quite rightly.

But here's the thing about me, I make quick decisions, and good ones. That's why I was a good office manager…briefly.

My brain is wired for action. It fires quickly. I really don't mind being told no.

But you need to have a really good reason if I'm in the mood to take a stand.

Except in Chicago, when I started to go against my heart like…almost immediately. I got hired, figured out my first week there how to pay down debt and save thousands of dollars a year for the company, then I got noticed…by White, who had been on the panel that interviewed me the second time. He'd seemed amused by me or something, but my work got his attention. Then the surprising invitation to a fundraiser, the assurance I'd be helping out a friend--him. Then the make-out session cause girl can't hold her liquor, then the mortification from that, then the flowers, the rumors, and gossip, the judgment from a few of my co-workers, females, angry females, then another date and Myron seeming like my only friend. And very quickly, a fast decision also made with alcohol, I end up in bed with this man. Twice. And both times—disastrous!

I started to pull back. He thought I was playing hard to get. So he insisted I meet his family. I was in so far over my head I was panicking. We went out again, and again. He was actually likable, and I didn't want to hurt him. But he wanted romance and sex. And it wasn't happening for me for reasons all wrapped up in the man sitting next to me and polishing off his pancakes.

Yeah in Chicago, many of my decisions were not so good. They sucked. And life got more and more complicated. So he fired me, and I said I was going home. And he followed—White did. I think he figured I'd come to my senses if I went back and saw the boy I left behind me, and had him, Myron White, to compare him to. Bold move on Myron's part cause it worked all right, just not in the way he hoped. One look at Marcus and I got real.

Pulling up to Marcus's house is exciting. I am holding the puppy who has fallen asleep in the crook of my arm. Marcus and I have been going back and forth on who is going to present our little gift. Without me it wouldn't have happened, he said, but he paid for everything, I said, and we fought about that, and he said there is no me and mine just ours, and I said, "You want my electric curlers then? Okay, I want your badge." And he said of course, that's not what he meant, and he said that's the end of it, carry the puppy.

It was really a mock-fight, but an exchange of vital information occurs. He sees our money as blended. I haven't even thought about it as I don't currently have much, but yeah, blending is good, but a quick marriage leads to many other quick things, some which are downright embarrassing.

We bought a big red stocking at the pet store when we stopped there for the doggie's accessories. So I have the pup easily sausaged into that thing, and he seems to love it in there, with his head sticking out and his front paws.

So we pull up to the house. "Wonder how long it will take him to notice," I say stepping out. We've parked in the street because Elaine's car is in the driveway.

"Soon find out," Marcus says as the front door is flung open and Juney comes out. "Took you long enough," he says.

His eyes go right to the target, the small black head bobbing along on his red sweater throne on my arm.

"What's that?" he says, then a grin and he's coming toward me.

"That's Bedilia," Marcus says.

"Noo," Juney laughs and points at my little guy, "that."

I mock his 'nooo,' a little. "Just dismiss me," I say.

"Um…there's a dog on your arm," Juney says pointing.

"Oh, this dog?" I carefully maneuver the stockinged bundle into my hands.

Juney is already preparing to take him. "We keeping him?" He's excited.

"We're renting him," Marcus says.

"We figure two days, you get attached, and we take him back," I add.

He doesn't even hear me. He's taken the bundle into his arms, and he's already kissing the puppy's nose. Love at first sight.

Now Elaine is in the doorway. "Oh my," she says seeing the squirmer in Juney's arms. "That was quick."

Marcus is close, and he kisses her cheek. "Now you know why we rushed the wedding," he says.

"Meet Stuart," I say, and I really like Elaine cause she gets my reference right away. And so does her son and you know I like him already.

We go inside and right away I notice the good smells. The living room looks…better. She's been cleaning. But somehow the board is replaced with a real window and with the dog excitement we hadn't noticed from the outside.

"How…?" Marcus starts to ask.

Elaine smiles. "Don knew your insurance man."

"Pulled out the big guns, huh?" Marcus says. "On a Sunday, Mom? That's impressive."

So we are grateful, and Marcus examines the work, and it's great.

"Wait a minute…that's a new…." I'm pointing at a coffee table that wasn't there before.

"Merry Christmas from Don and me," she says.

We thank her appropriately. It's really cool, on wheels, an old railway car knock-off, she explains.

We go in the kitchen, and she's made lunch, and it's also sparkling in here. "Sit down and I'll serve you," she offers.

Marcus says, "Mom, no. You've done enough. Sit down with us."

Well, she has to be going. Don and she…have a thing. But she'll see us, Christmas Eve? And I look at Marcus, and he says, "Well, Artie has a blowout every year…but with his leg…."

"Oh bring Artie, then," Elaine says. "If he can get around. If you need to stay with him…I understand."

"We'll call you and let you know," Marcus says, and I feel the hook coming out of my back because I have spent every Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Dad and I don't know what to say until I speak to him.

She takes it well. I can see she's a little thrown, but she's careful not to have a tantrum or anything, and I like her more than ever. But she has Don, and I think Dad has Teresa, and that's what I have to get figured out—how much he has Teresa.

So we thank her again, and when she's gone, Marcus closes the door, and I'm behind him, and he turns and scoops me up. I think he likes carrying me places. He growls like a madman and takes me into the bedroom, and we both stop there.

"Heh," Marcus says noticing the new bedding and matching drapes. Both a deep red brocade. Nothing I would have picked in a million years, but I have to admit, they are show-stoppers.

"Mom," he says again.

"Wow," I say.

"Do you mind?" he asks.

"No," I say. "I…have to get used to it, but your mom is pretty great."

He kisses me then. "If you want something else we'll change this."

"No," I say thinking it's a little 'Queen of England,' but I can get used to it.

Then he throws me on the bed and lands over me, and we're laughing, and Juney is there, still holding the puppy, only it's out of the stocking now, on top of it, and he's saying, "He stuck his whole head in his water bowl. He's so funny."

Marcus is beside me, and he is grinning at Juney, then grinning at me. He kisses me right there, and that drives Juney out of the room with a big sound of disgust. "Get used to it kid," he calls after him, then he flattens me against the royal red and kisses the daylights out of me. When he lifts his face, he says, "Let's eat."