J looked heavenward for a moment, then back to Tom. “It’s a pretty obvious pattern.”
“But it’s like a crop circle—you can only see it from the outside. When you’re in it, it’s just...”
“Crops?”
“Exactly!”
“And are you defending this pattern?” J asked. “Do I have to get your head checked, too?”
“No! I’m aware it’s ridiculous.”
“But?”
Tom sighed. “But...I think maybe my mom is at her happiest when she’s marrying George. From the moment she starts planning to the end of the honeymoon—that’s the best time for her. And, honestly, I think the same’s true for George.”
“I’ve always liked George.”
“Right? Me too. They always find a way to mess it up—but before the mess comes, it’s pretty great.”
“It’s always a good party.” The only one J missed was the last, which had happened on a cruise ship. J loved Tom and his mom, but not to a weeklong-cruise degree.
“So here’s the thing: Remember that time you were supposed to come with us to the lake house, but then you had to play a wedding in Düsseldorf? Well, obviously I had to tell Mom why you weren’t coming, and I guess she made a mental note of that thing you do with the wedding songs, because maybe twenty seconds after she told me she and George were giving it another go, she asked if I’d get you to be their wedding singer. She says it will make the wedding really special. And honestly? I think she’s nervous that some of her friends won’t want to come, even though she hasn’t asked for gifts since wedding number two. You’re the lure.”
“Does your mother even like my music?” J asked. In his mind, this question was only 40% serious. But in truth, it was probably nearing 70%. Tom’s mother had once, in his presence, described his music as “like an oddball Simon and Garfunkel”—but she had clearly put her emphasis on the Garfunkel.
“She loves your music!” Tom replied. 100% sincere, maybe 64% accurate.
“When is the wedding?”
“She says she’ll plan around your schedule. But, you know, nottoolong.”
“And what does George say about this?”
Tom shrugged. “Not a word. They’re in that stage right now, where he understands that the road to contentment is paved with his silent acquiescence.”
“I’d say he’s a wise man...but I’m not sure if marrying the same woman four times counts as wisdom.”
“Maybe hitting sixty-five will change the pattern.”
“Your mother’s turning sixty-five?”
“You arenotallowed to put that in the song.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
“But you’re going to, right?”
“If I don’t, she’ll make me watch some Bette Davis movie with her.”
“That only happened once!” (She had caught them staying up late, sneaking a comedy famous for its female nudity on cable, and had told them if they were going to be up past midnight watching a movie, it was going to be the movie ofherchoice. Neither of them can remember its name, only that it was black and white, starred Bette Davis, and was not at all what their eleven-year-old selves could bear to watch.)
“No, it’s fine,” J said. “I can’t say no to your mother. Which is, I believe, something I learned from you.”
“Fair enough. I’m considering that a yes. Thank you.” Tom kicked J’s foot lightly in gratitude.
“I’d say ‘any time,’ but honestly I will not play the fifth or sixth wedding. Please make that clear.”
“Holding out for the seventh—noted.”
