by Dinah McLeod
"Mmm," I agreed, dropping my eyes.
"I feel like I should send Sarah a thank you card or something. Without her, I wouldn't have met you."
He was looking at me with so much love and tenderness on his face and here I was, fighting back laughter.
"What was your guy's name again? Reginald?" he asked.
"Oh, um…" I shrugged noncommittally. "I can't really remember."
"Really?"
"Don't seem so surprised. It's not like I've thought of any other guy since I met you."
He smiled and nodded, then got lost in thought again. "Whose idea was it for you to go to that restaurant? Did he suggest it, or—"
"Oh, I really can't recall." I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his, hoping to distract him, but to my surprise, he pulled back.
"Are you okay, Cara?"
"Of course I'm okay." I giggled. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know." His face and tone were turning serious. "You just don't seem quite like yourself. Is there something you want to tell me?"
I've always sucked at poker. I knew this, and yet I still did my best to maintain his stare, trying my hardest to look innocent. I might have made it, if he hadn't looked so damn cute. The next thing I knew, I was looking away and giggling.
"Cara!"
"What?" I asked, still chuckling.
"What are you holding back, young lady?"
The 'young lady', as well as the firm tone he said it in only made me laugh harder. "You're g-going to think it's f-funny," I promised.
"Hmm, somehow, I doubt that."
"It's… it's nothing big. It's silly, really," I told him, trying to get ahold of myself.
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"
I bit down on my lip to squelch the giggles. Once I'd felt them subside—at least somewhat—I told him. "The truth is, I didn't have a date that night."
Kevin blinked in surprise. "I see," he said, though it was clear to me that he didn't.
"I was meeting some girls at the bar after work," I explained. "It's something we do once a month or so. Well, anyway, I walked in and saw you sitting there…" I watched him while I was talking, and began to feel anxious when his expression turned sterner still. "Well, obviously you were waiting on someone… and you just looked so cute, so I thought—"
"That you'd walk right over and begin a relationship built on lies?"
"I didn't know it was going to turn into a relationship," I admitted.
"Cara! So you're telling me you were, what? Hoping for a quickie in the broom closet?"
"Of course not. I would have invited you back to my place."
"Young lady…"
I couldn't help it then. I burst into giggles—huge peals of body-shaking, unrepentant laughter.
"That is shameful," he deadpanned, shaking a finger at me. "I can't believe you'd sell that beautiful body of yours for a Cosmo."
"I'm sorry," I gasped, my eyes watering from so much laughing. "Should I make it two next time?"
"There'd better not be a next time," he growled, wrapping his arms protectively around me and pulling me onto his lap.
I laid my head on his chest until I could stop giggling. "You know, it wasn't that I was horny, or anything like that."
"Well, aren't I relieved."
"Seriously, Kevin." I looked up at him, pleased to see that he was only pretending to be stern. "I saw you sitting there, alone, and something inside me just… I knew."
"You knew what?" he asked as he began to stroke my hair.
"I knew that after I introduced myself to you, my life would never be the same."
"And you say you're shy," he teased.
"I am. But I also knew that if I didn't, I'd spend the rest of my life wishing I had."
He gave me a gentle squeeze and kissed the top of my forehead. "Well, I'm glad you did, even if you did ruin my nice story. It would have made a great wedding toast, you know."
I tilted my head back to look at him, my eyes widening. Did he just say… "What do you mean?"
"Just a second."
I watched in a state of shock as Kevin gently pushed me from his lap and got down on the floor, on one knee. When he brought a blue velvet box out of his pocket, I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands.
"Cara Jones, I don't care how or where or when we met. I'm just so glad that we did. I know we haven't known each other very long, but I swear, the more time I spend with you, the less I can imagine my life without you in it." Dramatically, he flipped open the lid of the jewelry box to reveal a stunning heart-shaped ring inside. It was exquisitely-wrought silver, with a pearl nestled into the center of the heart. "Please do me the honor of becoming my wife."
A thousand things were flying through my mind. Not the least of which was that I was only twenty-two. Was I really old enough to get married? And he was right—we'd hardly known each other for any time at all. And yet, what I'd said was true; I'd known practically from the moment I'd first laid eyes on him that there would never, ever be another man for me.
"Yes!" I squealed at the top of my lungs.
"Yes?" he echoed, laughing.
"Yes!" I said again, bouncing up and down in excitement.
He tossed the box onto the couch and stood up just in time for me to hurl myself into his waiting arms. We were both laughing, though I found myself crying, too. "Oh, baby," he murmured, brushing my tears aside.
"Happy tears," I assured him as I wrapped my legs around his waist.
"They'd better be," he said, and chuckled before kissing me. "You know, I should really put you over my knee," he went on, in between kisses. "For lying to me like that."
I simply pulled his mouth back to mine. We kissed until my lips were swollen, and then I found myself back on the couch, still in his lap with his arms wrapped around me.
"About that," he said suddenly.
"About what?" I murmured, feeling light-headed.
"The spanking thing."
"Yes?"
"How do you feel about it?"
"Um," I tilted my head to the side, trying to hide the blush I could feel creeping along my cheeks. "I don't know."
"I see."
"I don't know how to feel about it, really," I tried to explain. "I mean, I guess I think it's a bit… silly."
"Silly?" he prompted.
"I don't know, I sort of just thought it, like, turned you on, or something." My cheeks were getting hotter by the moment.
"Well, you do have a cute butt."
That did it; my face was quickly flaming hotter than a steak on an open grill.
"But it's more than that," he went on.
"Mmm," I mumbled noncommittally, because it seemed as though he wanted me to say something.
"The thing is, I believe in every relationship, there needs to be a balance, you know?"
"Balance," I echoed, with a tiny nod.
"I believe that we need to be accountable to each other. And for me, that means that I have a responsibility to help you be the best person you can be."
"Okay," I said slowly, wondering where he was going with this.
"Sometimes, that means punishing or spanking you to ensure that mistakes don't get repeated, particularly when it comes to your safety or keeping our relationship on track."
I bit down on my lower lip, unsure how to reply, and wishing with all my heart that we could drop this subject and get back to the celebrating.
"I know it probably seems a bit old-fashioned to you, but I'm just trying to do what I think is best, and I wanted to be up front with you about it," he said.
"It is, a bit," I agreed with a little laugh.
"I know. And maybe you need a little time to—"
"I don't need time," I interrupted him. "I want to marry you."
"You're sure you don't want to think about it some more? Do you have any questions or concerns you'd like to talk about? Maybe we need to—"
"Kevin," I cut him off, leaning forward to kiss his uncertainty awa
y. "I love you. I've known that for a long time now. I don't plan on letting anything get in the way of that."
The smile that lit his face was wide and warm. "You're an amazing woman, Cara," he said as he stroked the side of my face.
I smiled back, eager to accept the compliment and move on to more pleasant topics. After all, what he was saying made a certain kind of sense. And anyway, if I didn't want him to spank me, all I had to do was make sure I didn't do anything to deserve one. Simple enough, right?
Just then, our quiet, intimate moment was shattered by the loud squealing of the smoke detector.
"Oh, crap!" Kevin exclaimed as he leapt to his feet.
"What's wrong?"
"My rice!" he shouted over his shoulder as he raced to the kitchen. I took my time following him, noting the cloud of gray smoke that was floating out of the kitchen. "Get the windows, Cara!"
I quickly obeyed as Kevin muttered to himself as he banged around in the kitchen. When all the windows had been opened and the smoke detector turned off, I went over to him.
"I swear, I've never burned rice in my life," he told me as he scooped portions onto our plates.
"I like my food a bit done," I said cheerfully. Though he smiled, I could tell it would take a lot more than that to cheer him up. I carried our plates to the table and sat directly across from him so I could rub his foot with mine under the table.
After a few minutes, he seemed to perk up. The chicken was moist and delicious, and the mashed potatoes were like little buttery clouds from Heaven. Besides, it was the company I really cared about. We talked the night away as we began to make wedding plans. We agreed that we wanted something small and simple, and that we wanted to get married as soon as possible. Before he left for the evening, Kevin gave me a kiss that was long, lingering and filled with so much promise. I couldn't help thinking that it had been the best meal of my life; burned rice and all.
***
For the first time since we'd met, Kevin and I didn't see each other the following day, or even the one after that. Business was picking up for the both of us—a good thing, in both our lines of work. We texted throughout the day, and talked on the phone for hours at a time each night. Despite the fact that I had to be at work early in the morning— Kevin had imposed a midnight curfew which I rarely obeyed, although he never knew it—when I walked in bleary eyed, it was always with a smile on my face. I couldn't remember a time when I'd ever been happier, and I loved showing off my unique engagement ring. Though she denied it, I could tell that Janie was practically beside herself with jealousy.
I spent all my free time planning our wedding, and our conversations often revolved around the where and when. All I really cared about was a dress and a bouquet, and Kevin insisted that he just wanted to make me happy. Since his family lived in Michigan, he was in touch with his parents to see when the best time would be for them to fly down for the wedding. As a prestigious business man, it was hard for his dad to miss work. Other than that, there was only one other teeny, tiny, minor detail to handle—Kevin insisted that he needed to meet my mother.
Like all women enveloped in the fog of new love, I thought that I would be able to simply explain why that wasn't a good idea, nor was it necessary. Kevin, however, disagreed, and nothing I could say or do—even pouting—could persuade him otherwise.
"She's your mother, Cara," he said, as though I needed reminding. "I feel bad enough that I didn't ask her permission beforehand, I'm not going to not meet her before the wedding."
If he'd asked her permission, she would have laughed in his face and blatantly refused, a fact I didn't bother to point out. Nor did I mention that I doubted she would attend the wedding. "But, honey—"
"No." He held up a hand. "We've been going around and around this for two weeks and frankly, I'm tired of it. Either give me a good reason why we can't go, or call her and make plans."
I let out a long-suffering sigh. "I already told you why: I don't want to."
"So I heard. She's your mother, Cara."
I could have told him that she wasn't the mothering type—that she was far from what you pictured when you thought of what a mother should be. I could have told him that I was afraid that he, upon meeting her, would reconsider our engagement. I could have given him any number of reasons, but somehow, as I looked into his steady, determined eyes, I knew that none of them would carry much weight or change his mind. So I gave the smallest of nods and whispered, "Okay," instead.
"There." He gave me a bright smile that almost made it worth it. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"
"No, but we haven't gone yet, either."
"Cara," he said and chuckled, "everything's going to be just fine." He leaned in to kiss me, and while I returned his embrace, I couldn't let myself relax.
I didn't bother to contradict him—I knew he wouldn't believe me, anyway.
I had hoped I'd be able to stall for at least a little while longer, but Kevin texted me bright and early the following morning, reminding me to call her. I received another message at lunchtime, asking me when we were supposed to be there. With a groan that he couldn't hear, I texted back, telling him we could see her on Saturday. It wasn't ideal, but I had finally accepted it was a subject he wasn't going to give on, and in the end I supposed it would be better to get it over with. If he was going to take a look at the life I used to lead, to see the woman I could very well become, it was better he call off the wedding sooner rather than later, if that was where things were headed.
At least, that's what I told myself at the time. My mind went back and forth on the subject many, many times before the weekend rolled around, not that I had much of a choice with regards to backing out. I'd said Saturday, and barring any life-threatening illnesses—or at least a fever—I wasn't going to get out of it. So when Saturday dawned bright and sunny, I rolled out of bed and got dressed to face the day, my expression sullen despite the beautiful weather.
Part of me wished I had the guts to sit him down and explain. But the truth was, there just weren't enough words to tell him exactly why I would rather he didn't meet my mother—at least, not until he'd said, "I do". She was… eccentric, but that wasn't right. Colorful… but that was being generous. The truth was, if I'd had the words, I probably would have said them, but I simply was at a loss when it came to her.
"You're quiet," Kevin observed, glancing over at me as he turned down the country dirt road. "You haven't said much since you got into the car. Is something wrong?"
This. This is very, very wrong. "Just thinking, I guess."
"About flower arrangements again?" he teased. I gave him a small smile, and regardless of whether he believed that was the reason or not, he let the question drop.
Turning my head to stare out the window, I watched as we drove past houses I'd grown up running in and out of as a kid. They all still looked the same. Paint peeling, maybe a new flower bed—or the withered remains of an old one—but mostly the same. The occupants would be the same, too, because that's how things are in a small town where no one leaves. When Old Mr. Brown died, his house would pass to his son Robert, who might marry or might not, and who would continue the same day-to-day routine of his father before him. It was so boring it made me want to cry.
Not that anyone else seemed to see it that way. I was the first person in more than a decade to leave, and my Mama hadn't thanked me for it. She said it made her look bad—when she bothered to talk about it at all.
When he pulled into the driveway behind her powder-blue Oldsmobile that was going on thirty-five years, I felt my stomach tighten into knots.
"This is it?" he asked quietly.
"Mmm-hmm."
I could feel him beside me, wanting to say something more, but in the end he pulled the keys out of the ignition, walked over to the passenger side and opened my door. I tried to smile at him as I stepped out, but it fell flat.
"Everything's going to be fine." He pulled me into a side-hug, giving me a little squeeze. "You'll see."
"Okay." This time I did manage to smile, but it faded the moment he took his arm from around me.
"Come on."
"Time to face the music," I deadpanned.
"Behave yourself," he said, aiming a swat at my behind that was more of a love-pat than a warning. I glared at him anyway.
I hadn't been to visit my mother in about eight months, since last Christmas. The house looked about the same; the same ferns hanging from the roof of the porch, a mere day or two from death. The same collection of odds and ends that somehow always managed to accumulate on her porch, no matter how many times I removed them. There was an ashtray cradled on the arm of the lone chair that sat on the porch. It was close to overflowing, as usual. I suppressed a sigh and turned to Kevin with a raised eyebrow. Have you seen enough yet, I asked him silently.
Seeing that he would get no help from me, he reached forward and opened the screen door. It groaned as he pulled it open, barely hanging on by the one metal hinge that kept it attached to the door frame. He knocked firmly on the door and took a step back, at which point I moved past him and opened it. Mama liked a warning; that was all. She'd never actually get up to answer the door, which was why she never kept it locked.
"Ma?" I called out as I crossed the threshold. I didn't bother to look behind me to see if he'd followed—since we'd made it this far despite my pleas and warnings, I knew he'd be right behind me. "It's Cara! Ma?" I could smell her before I saw her—all my eyes had to do was follow the heavy scent of cigarette smoke and there she was, leaning against the wall, eyeing me with something akin to disdain.
"'Course it's you," she said, blowing smoke out of her mouth. "Who else would it be?"
I tried to smile, tried to think of something nice to say, but both attempts were useless.
"Woulda been nice if you'd called to say you was comin', though."
I could feel Kevin's eyes on me, but didn't turn to meet them. "Ma, I came because I have some news." With anyone else, you'd say good news, or great news, even. With my mom, you portioned everything out in only the information you had to give. "I'm getting married." I extended my arm, my fingers splayed for her to see the gleaming pearl, but she hardly glanced at it before turning her attention back to her Virginia Slim.
