Going to the Chapel (15 page)

“If someone does call asking for Jerry, though,” he says. “Just say it’s the wrong number.”

Well, that would seem as if it would work.

As it turns out, Jerry has asked Cassie out to dinner—good for him—and she is still going even though I doubt she’s thought through all of the note problems—good for her, I think. The plan is for them to stop at some restaurant on their way home with the ficus plants. My guess is it will be a casual place. Maybe that soup and salad place Cassie likes. I feel a little nostalgic as they get up to leave the coffee shop and I notice that Jerry has his hand on Cassie’s elbow just like a gentleman should. He might be a little reckless by leaving notes around, but the aunts would be proud of his manners.

It’s too bad that a hand on one’s elbow doesn’t mean much anymore. I sigh, looking down at my empty teacup and think of Doug. I kind of liked the way I felt about him better before I knew he’d faced his problems in life, too. Back then I could just write him off as a jerk. Now, I have these ambivalent feelings. I hate it when that happens. I want to know if I like a person or not. I’m not much on gray. I shake my head. I wonder what I will tell the aunts when I show up at Elaine’s wedding without a date.

Oh, look. There’s a gold star floating down. It must have been in my hair or stuck on my blouse under the black suit. Anyway, it’s kind of nice to see it float
down and land in my empty teacup. Not that it makes up for not having a man to take me to dinner.

But then I smile, thinking of Joey. I bet he would have liked to watch that star fall into my cup. I start to brush off my shoulders just in case there’s another star waiting to fall, but then I stop. Maybe I should give up trying to figure out when everything is going to happen. I’ll let the star fall when it wants. It’s good to have a surprise or two in life.

I
take the Metro bus back to Cassie’s place and get off a stop earlier than I need to so that I can pick up some groceries to make my dinner. After I walk the aisles in the store for a few minutes, I see a red rose that is set apart, a little behind the other flowers in the buckets next to the produce section. It’s the only one in the half-price bucket.

I don’t know why I pick up the long-stemmed rose and put it in my checkout basket. Maybe I just can’t stand it that one stem is left behind all alone with a half-worth sign on it. I’m sure it’s been passed over a dozen times already today. Even with the water tube on its stem, the rose has started to droop. Still, a full-bodied rose like that is made for romance and I haven’t seen much of that lately.

Well, unless you count Jerry and Cassie. Maybe I’ll put the rose in a vase and leave it on the table for the two of them. Sort of a very subtle blessing on their budding relationship, even though I doubt
either one of them is ready to admit such a thing even exists yet.

I shake my head just thinking about the two of them. How did things ever come to this? My best childhood friend and my most bothersome male cousin on a date together. Between the two of them, they know all my secrets. It should alarm me to think of them sitting together and talking without me there to defend myself.

Instead, I smile thinking about it. Hopefully, they have so many other things to talk about that they both forget that they even know me. Life certainly has its unexpected moments when it comes to romance.

Maybe something like that will happen for me one day. I’ve always thought I’d meet the love-of-my-life when I least expected it. Like maybe I’d be in a coffee shop and he’d order the exact type of latte I ordered and we’d start talking about what we liked and one thing would lead to another until he asked me out on the date to end all dates. Or maybe I’d just be stepping out of a beauty salon with my short auburn hair swept back the way it can be and he would be so struck with my titian beauty he would have to stop right there on the street and invite me out to this fabulous dinner.

Don’t laugh. It could happen. Granted, it wasn’t happening in Blythe.

When I left Blythe, there were two coffee shops of the kind I see in Hollywood—one on the north side of town and one on the south side. There were also a handful of beauty salons. One of the reasons I knew I had to leave Blythe was because there were so few places where I might actually meet The One. I just couldn’t imagine him even being in Blythe.

Well, it was also the fact there were no good jobs to be found. I’m not one of those women who thinks she has to have a man or she will die unfulfilled. I have more sense than that. But if I am not going to meet a man, I at least want a job that has enough excitement to it so that I can tell I’m alive. My bank teller job sure didn’t do it for me, but I think the job at the Big M has possibilities.

Besides, I like it in Hollywood. I’ve been meaning to knock on the manager’s door in this building and ask him to let me know when the next apartment becomes available. I paid Cassie for part of the rent when I got my first paycheck from the Big M last week. I haven’t decided yet whether or not I will keep working at the Big M long term, but it pays more than I’ve ever made on a job and, since I like it there, I plan to stay.

For one thing, I learn stuff at the Big M that I might not learn other places. Even ordinary things like the different smells roses can have.

The rose I bought is leaning against my suit jacket as I climb the stairs. This is a classical red rose with a deep traditional smell to it, but other roses, particularly yellow ones, can have such a light floral scent that one barely notices them. And orange roses, at least the ones at the Big M, can have a slightly fruity scent. Now, that’s all something I can use as a wedding planner, don’t you think? I can suggest special fragrance themes for a wedding. I didn’t know any of the stuff about roses before I started working at the Big M.

I wave to Mrs. Snyder as I set my grocery bags
down on the hallway floor so I can get my keys out of my purse to open the apartment door. I know you’re supposed to have your keys in your hands when you come in at night, but it’s hard to do that when you’re also carrying groceries. Besides, it’s not quite dark out even though the lights in the hallway have probably been on for some time.

“Welcome home, dear,” Mrs. Snyder says after opening her door a bit. I see a strip of fuzzy purple bathrobe, one lively blue eye and half a nose in the crack of the doorway.

“Thanks,” I say as I smile over my shoulder at her. “How’s it going?”

“I’m watching a movie on television,” Mrs. Snyder whispers. “Rock Hudson.”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

After I step inside the apartment, I reach down and pull the grocery bags in behind me. My eye automatically goes to Cassie’s answer machine and I am relieved that the red light isn’t blinking so, at least for now, no one has called about that starter for Mona’s car. After I finish eyeing the answer machine, I close and lock the door, turn on the light and lift the bags onto the small kitchen counter. A head of lettuce and a couple of tomatoes share one bag with a box mix for rice pilaf. A rotisserie chicken has its own foil bag inside a plastic bag. I just lay the rose on the table for now.

My cell phone rings just after I put some water on to heat to make the rice pilaf. I’m glad I have one of those fancy sound tones so it doesn’t sound like the regular phone ringing. I wouldn’t want to answer Cassie’s phone and find out Mona was calling.

“Julie?”

Uh-oh. I recognize that voice. “Hi, Doug.”

I try to keep the surprise out of my voice. I didn’t really think I’d hear from Doug again. Not after I tried to keep him from walking down the aisle at the rally. I wonder for a minute if I should apologize for trying to hold him back. After all, there’s the whole freedom of religion thing and Doug is big on civilization and apologies.

I open my mouth, but I don’t get a chance to say anything.

“You’ve got to help me,” Doug says in a frantic low whisper.

I still remember how pale he looked at Elaine’s engagement party. Maybe he’s anemic or something. You might not know it, but unhealthy people die at an alarming rate. “You’re not sick, are you?”

“No, I just never realized what I was getting into,” he says. I can picture the intense look in his eyes about now. He sounds the way he sounded when he was talking to Aunt Ruth.

Doug is resisting some commitment and he can’t blame this one on me. I stop myself from announcing to him that I told him so, but it does feel good to have my common sense applauded. Nothing good ever comes from making hasty commitments. He should know that.

“Look, can I come over and get your help with this stuff from the rally?” Doug says, his voice still strained enough that I know he’s not feeling calm.

“Of course.” I look at the pan in my hand. “I’m just fixing dinner. There’s plenty for two if you want.”

“Great, I’m starving,” Doug says.

After Doug hangs up, I look at the roasted chicken lying in the foil pan on the counter. It’s plump and good-sized, so hopefully it is enough even if Doug is starving. I put the pilaf seasoning in the water so that it can simmer for five minutes before I put the rest of the contents of the box in with it. Then I take some plates down from the cupboard and put them on the table.

Cassie has a vase that works for a single rose and I put the rose in that and set it in the middle of the table. I also bring out a couple of nice napkins; they’re paper napkins, but those nice paper napkins that advertise that they feel like cloth. I almost feel as though this is a party and I’m humming away. Maybe I haven’t lost my almost friend before we really had time to become solid friends, if you know what I mean. Maybe he’ll come back to my side of things.

Just so you know, I’m not thinking romantic here. I’m thinking how nice it would be to have Doug for a friend. I’ve thought about the time Doug and I spent flirting with each other at Elaine’s party—that was before the meltdown, of course—and, you know, we had more fun together than I’ve had in ages.

And, now, look at this turn of events. I’ve got to hand it to Doug. I’ve heard of people who’ve walked down the aisle at a church service and then backed out of the agreement, but I’ve never known anyone personally who did it. I’ve got to respect Doug for having that kind of courage. I just hope that going back on his commitment won’t be a problem later on his deathbed or anything. Suddenly, I stop humming. I’m feeling a little uneasy. I’m not sure I should help someone break their commitment to God.

Wow. I just stand a minute with the pilaf spoon in my hand. This could be major. As I’ve said before, I don’t disbelieve in God. I’m carefully sitting in the neutral zone. But if I help someone desert their post, I don’t know. That’s not so neutral any more. God might not be too happy about that. I’ve never gone up against God before. Mine is mostly an ignore thing.

While I finish cooking the rice pilaf, I think about what to say to Doug. I’m beginning to feel that I should give him both sides of the story. That way, if and when Doug chooses to undo his commitment, it won’t be because I convinced him to do so. Even God has to respect fairness like that, don’t you think?

Of course, I will assure Doug that there is no shame in changing one’s mind about a commitment—that some commitments shouldn’t be made unless a person is very, very sure. There are those gym memberships for one thing. You know, the ones where a person is pressured into buying a whole year and then they want to quit after four excruciating days on those sweaty machines, but they can’t get any of their money back? Or the times when a guy tells the barber to shave all the hair off his head. Some commitments should have a cooling-off period before they go into effect. In fact, there is something legal along those lines, isn’t there?

I’m pretty sure you can return a car you just bought within seventy-two hours after you sign the papers. If a person can return a car, they should be able to say nay to a religious commitment they made. That’s what I’ll tell Doug. It will make him feel good that he’s got the full weight of the law on his side.

I have some time left so I take a few seconds to fluff
up my hair and put on a light coat of lipstick before Doug knocks at the door. I give a quick nervous glance up to the ceiling hoping my real father might get the hint that this is not a good time for him to be watching over me. A girl needs some privacy. I suppose dead people don’t need any privacy, but then they don’t do anything but sing hymns anyway so what’s the use of privacy for them. But a girl who wants to spend time with a male friend, even if she’s not ready to date him, definitely needs privacy.

I open the door. “Hi, I—”

Doug grunts as he steps inside. “I just read your notes and I had to come over.”

He looks as though he didn’t sleep at all last night.

“Really?” Imagine, me taking good enough notes so that Doug could understand how serious the commitment was that he’d been asked to make. “And my notes were enough to make you change your mind?”

“I need your help,” Doug says.

Doug has his tan jacket zipped up all the way and a black backpack slung over his shoulder. He seems nervous; I don’t think he’s listened to anything I’ve said so far so I decide I need to be very clear. “You know, you can just decide to ignore your commitment. You didn’t sign any legal papers. You don’t need anyone’s help.”

Doug looks confused. “You said in your notes you could teach me about the Bible.”

“Me?”

“Of course, you,” Doug says as he swings the backpack around so it’s in his hands. “You wrote it on the top page of the notes you took.”

“Oh.” Now I know what he’s talking about. “You mean when I said I could show you how to
find
things in the Bible? The books, the chapters, the verses.”

This is kid’s stuff. If you’ve been in Sunday school as much as I have been, you have all these things memorized. There’s even a little song that includes the books of the Bible. It’s a little singsongy so that once you get it in your head, you can’t get it out no matter how hard you try. Believe me, I say that from experience.

Doug nods. “I don’t even know what a verse is.” Even though he’s got his backpack in his hands, his shoulders are slumped and he looks defeated. “I thought it was something to do with poetry so I asked the person next to me if we’d be quoting from any French poems about God because I know some French and I thought it might be useful for pronunciation.”

“It’s a natural mistake,” I say sympathetically.

“The guy laughed.”

“I don’t think they’re supposed to laugh at you,” I say. Now I’m indignant. That’s not how Christians are supposed to act.

“It was just another guy who walked down to the front so he probably didn’t know what he was supposed to do, either.”

“Oh.” We’re quiet a minute. And then because I have to be sure, I ask, “So you don’t want to take back your commitment?”

“Of course not,” Doug says. He straightens his shoulders and he doesn’t look defeated any longer. “I’m not a quitter.”

Okay, so he has his pride. “You don’t need to be a quitter, you could just say it was a mistake and that
you’ve remembered you need to take a trip to Sweden and take one of those ice plunges.”

There, I’ve pulled out the big guns. Who can resist a trip to Sweden? I feel like Vanna White with my big smile. “It’s probably even winter there now. Remember Sweden. Nice and cold?”

“I’m not sure I could stand all that cold,” Doug says without even thinking about it. “Besides, I don’t want to quit. I just don’t want to look stupid and have anyone laugh at me again.”

“Ah.”

“When I went down front at the rally, people were talking about this in the Bible and that in the Bible and I didn’t know where any of it was located. Well, of course, you know that by now. I thought the Bible was written in poems. How ignorant can I be?”

“For the record, some of it is in poems. But I’m sure no one expected you to know all of that,” I say.

Doug looks up in surprise. “
I
expected it. If I’m going to talk about what’s in the Bible, I should be able to sit down with the book and find where it says that.”