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She burst out laughing, holding both her sides. “You said that so seriously, you had me going for a second.”
I winced and rested my elbows on the bed, ready to run from the room embarrassed. I’d never done this before. The silence was deafening.
She whispered. “You’re serious?”
I nodded. “We could be in Tahoe in four hours. We get a license, get married and tell the world to go to hell.”
She lowered to her belly and meeting me eye to eye, she asked. “Isn’t this a little sudden?”
I winked. “When something is right, it’s right. Baby, you are right for me. The question is, am I right for you?”
She bit her thumbnail and jumped into impulsivity. “You know what? You are. And how could any girl refuse such a gorgeous engagement ring?” She held her hand out and studied the candied jewel as if it were a Tiffany diamond.
I grinned. “It’s tasty.”
She sobered. “You know my folks will probably disown me.”
“Fuck them. Do you think we’ll be the only students living on ramen noodles? I can cook eggs.”
She frowned. “What about school? This year is almost over, but what about the rest of my education?”
“We’ll figure that out. A, Stanford is not the only school. B, there are scholarships and grants and student financial assistance, C, you didn’t want to be a chemist, anyway. I have a job; you can get a job. We’ll make it just fine.”
She pulled her legs around to slide down on the floor with me. Holding out her hand she struck a pose. “Marry me, lover.”
I admired the blue plastic cherry ring onto her slim finger. “When we get to Tahoe, I still have some cash for wedding bands.”
She silenced me with a deep-throated kiss and that was it.
After shopping at the Elite Pawn Shop for rings and getting the license at the courthouse, we took Henri with us into the Little Chapel of the Bells wedding chapel. They were very nice about letting Henri be the ring bearer, although we paid for the economy service. The officiant's wife even managed a few tears in our honor.
We drove back to Stinson Beach high on life. Being the breadwinner, I bought the takeout meal for two at Wo Fat’s Splendid Chinese. As I watched her eat, I marveled at how comfortable she was sitting naked on the bed while we fed each other lo mein out of the carton. By this time, the dog had accepted me. He sat between us begging for a bite while we lounged in the motel’s rumpled sheets, making up stories about our future. She was the yin to my yang. And by the time the sun snuck over the motor court and into our room, we were molded to each other, asleep, the dog at our feet.
Sunday morning, she woke with her forearm over her eyes. “Food… Coffee? Black tea?” She ran tapered fingernails through her hair and wandered to the bathroom. She came back smelling of toothpaste, her face damp. “Mr. Sullivan, did say you cooked?” She looked back at the kitchenette’s two-burner stove.
“For you, Mrs. Sullivan, I cook.” I tore a hole in white bread, dropped eggs into the center, and watched them bubble. She stood hip to hip with me, her thumb caught in the back loop of my cutoffs. Her toenails were coral and when my gaze seared up her statuesque frame, I admired the peridot color of her thickly lashed eyes.
She smiled wider and separated from my side. I missed her for the short time it took for her to feed the dog his breakfast and set the tiny table for us. Without request, just as naturally as if we lived here, she poured juice, brewed strong coffee, and waited for me to plate our food. I fought all my animal urges while she delicately cut up her pauper’s breakfast and ate.
“Aren’t you hungry?” She nodded to my half-full plate.
“Uh, it’s kind of early for me… to eat.” I dragged the toast through the center of the egg and tried not to eat like a troglodyte.
On the patio, as the help disappeared back into the mansion, Diana toyed with the simple twisted band of gold hanging on her gold chain. When she ate, she dropped it back under her shirt. I smiled because her wedding ring now sat nestled between my wife’s breasts. I knew I didn’t count. Nobody even looked at my left hand. I thumbed my ring as if I were flipping them off.
We ate and Diana whispered about getting her things over to our apartment from her sorority house. “It’s nice you have a van.”
“What do you drive?”
“Probably nothing after today. But I’ve been driving a Miata since I was sixteen.”
“I’ve got a bike. We’re good.”
She patted her lips with her napkin. “We’re great.” She picked up a garlic knot. “I need you to help me complete new financial aid papers.”
I opened my mouth to say, ‘I’m your man,’ when Queenie careened around the corner and squealed to a stop next to Diana.
She raised a small magnifying glass on a gold chain and gave her granddaughter the once over. “All right, honeybunch, I know you have a secret. I’ve raised you. You’re not like Duncan, what’s going on?”
