by Dean Hughes
“Is he the one with the pimples?”
“LaRue!”
“Well, he is.”
“He may have a few pimples, but he’s cute.”
LaRue was folding up a nice tablecloth that was stained with drops of red punch. She hoped the spots would come out. The cloth was a family heirloom that had been handed down from one of Mom’s great-grandmothers. LaRue couldn’t remember the story exactly, but someone had carried it across the plains—or something of that sort. It was Belgian lace, Mom always said.
“Wally and Lorraine didn’t leave yet, did they?” Beverly asked.
“No. Lorraine’s in changing into her travel dress.”
“Where are they going?”
“No one will say. Mom acts like it’s some kind of huge secret. I hope Wally doesn’t try to drive too far in that old Nash of his.”
“I hope he washes it before they leave.”
Earlier in the evening LaRue and Beverly had been in on decorating Wally’s car. Glen and some of Lorraine’s cousins had helped, and they had used white shoe polish to write “just married” across the back window and across the doors on both sides. They had run streamers from the hood ornament over the top, filled the hubcaps with pebbles, and tied a rope onto the back, with cans to rattle on the street. LaRue had always loved to do things like that, but tonight she had almost wished that everyone would leave the car alone. She wanted Wally and Lorraine to have a wonderful time, a really perfect time, and cleaning up the car was bound to be extra trouble for them. There had even been some talk of shivaree—of grabbing
them and driving them off in two separate cars, keeping them apart for half the night. LaRue was glad that Dad had walked outside and told the kids, “I don’t mind if you fix up their car a little, but I won’t stand for any silliness tonight. Leave those kids alone when they come out of the building.”
“We’ll just throw rice at them, President Thomas,” Lorraine’s brother had said, and LaRue was certain that nothing more than that would happen.
Chuck Adair was helping to carry presents out to his car. As he passed LaRue, he said, “Bobbi’s next, and then it’s your turn.”
“Not me,” LaRue said. “I’m just a child. You’re the one who needs to get married.”
Chuck stopped. He was holding a big box decorated with white wrapping paper. “I did go out on a date last week,” he said, and he grinned.
He still looked strange to LaRue, with those new false teeth of his, but he wasn’t a bad-looking guy. She still remembered when she was a kid, and he had been the biggest sports star at East High. “You mean that’s the first time?”
“Afraid so. Lorraine finally fixed me up. I figured the girl would be as ugly as a mud fence, but she wasn’t. I kind of liked her.”
LaRue was ready to say, “That’s why I won’t get married soon—there are too many pretty girls in this world,” but she stopped herself. That was the old LaRue—the one who would have batted her eyes and smiled just to hear Chuck tell her how beautiful she was. Instead, she said, “Chuck, that’s good. I’m glad to hear it. If you get married, you and Wally and your wives could have a lot of fun together.”
“Hey, it was just one date. Besides, I’m a poor man. I can’t get married for a while yet.”
“Have you found a job?”
“Sort of. Something for right now. But it doesn’t pay much. I’d be a sorry choice for a husband.” He laughed, and then he walked away.
By then Beverly had hold of LaRue’s arm. “Look at Lorraine,” she said.
LaRue turned around. Across the hall, Lorraine was standing with her mother. She was wearing a turquoise dress with a short bolero jacket. Her hair was down now, but she had on
a little pillbox hat that matched her dress. Wally walked over to her and said something, and Lorraine laughed, but LaRue thought Wally seemed self-conscious. All evening he had looked overwhelmed, almost confused. He had danced with LaRue earlier, and he had told her, “I didn’t expect so many people. So much . . . of everything.”
“I’m not surprised,” LaRue had told him. “Everyone in Sugar House knows both of our families.”
“I know. But I’m still not used to . . . all this.” And that’s what LaRue kept seeing in Wally, that he was still astounded that life could offer such pleasures. He kept staring at Lorraine as though he were worried that any minute she would fly off to heaven. He leaned toward her now, whispered something, and LaRue knew that he was telling her how beautiful she was. LaRue could only wonder whether anyone would ever adore her that much. But LaRue was more complicated than Lorraine and, she suspected, much harder to love.
“Hey, thanks, everyone,” Wally called out. “This has been great.”
“They’re getting ready to leave,” Beverly whispered. “We’d better go outside.”
She and LaRue hurried to the back door, where the Nash was parked. Outside, two of Lorraine’s cousins, Judy and Donna Lowry, were already waiting with a bag of rice. They were pouring out handfuls to everyone who came out.
When Wally and Lorraine finally appeared at the door, they stopped and hugged both sets of parents and talked for a few minutes. LaRue saw her father slide some extra money into Wally’s coat pocket. Wally thanked him, hugged him again, and then hugged Mom one more time.
Then he faced the crowd and grinned. “Hey, who’s been messing with my car?” he asked, but he certainly didn’t look surprised. He took Lorraine by the arm, and they walked down the steps. Then he stopped, seeming to realize what they were going to do. “Hey, don’t throw rice,” he said.
LaRue could tell that Wally was serious, but she couldn’t think why he would care. She saw that everyone else was as confused as she was.
“That stuff kept me alive for three and a half years. It’s the only thing I had. If you throw it on the ground, I might stop and pick it all up—one grain at a time. I did that, you know—lots of times.”
He was smiling. But LaRue knew this was not a joke to him, and she let her fists, full of the rice, drop to her sides. Wally and Lorraine passed through the group, and everyone stood silent.
Wally seemed to feel the awkwardness. He turned back and said, “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your fun.”
“That’s all right,” someone said.
“Anyway, thanks. It’s been a great night.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. But then he took hold of Lorraine’s arm, and the two of them bolted across the parking lot. LaRue knew immediately what was happening. Wally had Dad’s keys, and he was heading to the Hudson. But no one chased them. They merely stood and watched, still quiet. Wally helped Lorraine in on her side and then trotted around to his door. He waved and called out, “I’m afraid you decorated the wrong car.”
He got in, started the engine, and drove from the parking lot. But already people were lining up with their rice. They dropped it all back into the bag where they had gotten it.
***
Bobbi had hugged Wally and Lorraine, told them good-bye, but she hadn’t walked out to watch them make their escape. She was sitting on one of the wooden folding chairs that lined the gym. Richard was helping to carry out the gifts, and Bobbi had stayed behind to help clean up, but her feet, after an entire evening in heels, were killing her, so she was taking a moment to sit down.
She was rubbing her foot when she saw Grandma Thomas walking her way. “How about rubbing mine next?” Grandma asked.
“Do your feet hurt?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got corns on my feet that are older than you are. It’s only vanity that makes me put these horrid high heels on.”
“Hey, you were dancing up a storm. You and Grandpa looked great out there.”
“No, no. That man can’t dance a lick. You should have seen me when I used to dance with Teddy Horne. I was in my prime then, and Teddy was a professional dancer. We used to put on quite a show.”
“I thought you told me you got married when you were still a kid.”
/> “I did. This was after I was married. Teddy and I, we used to put on floor shows. I took lessons for years. He was my teacher.” She sat down next to Bobbi, stretched her legs out, pressed her heels against the floor, and pried both shoes off. Then she let out a long, loud sigh.
“Grandma, if I talked to you a hundred years, I’d never find out everything about you. I didn’t know you did floor shows. You’re always surprising me with something like that. “
“That’s because I make most of it up. Old people can lie and no one knows any better. Everyone who could call me a liar is already dead.”
Bobbi laughed. She put her foot down, hoisted the other onto her knee, and began to rub it. “I’ll bet you really were some kind of dancer,” she said. “I can picture that.”
“That part wasn’t a lie. Not even the floor shows. Where was your Grandma Snow tonight?”
“She and Grandpa were tired this morning after the temple ceremony and the wedding breakfast. They said they would come over if they could, but I’m not surprised they didn’t.”
“Well, you’d better get married right away—while they’re still able to be there.”
“Yes, I guess that’s right.”
But Bobbi heard the hint of hesitancy in her own voice, and she could tell that Grandma had picked up on it too. “Have you set a date yet, Bobbi?”
“Not an exact date. But I’m sure it’ll be fairly soon.”
“What’s going on?”
Bobbi really didn’t want to talk to Grandma about this. “Nothing. We just haven’t settled on a date.”
“Why not?”
“I just got home, and . . . you know . . . it takes a while to get everything organized. Besides, Mom had Wally’s wedding to think about first.”
“You need to take lessons from me, Bobbi. You’re the worst liar I know.”
“Liar?” Bobbi laughed.
“Tell me what’s troubling you about Richard. If you don’t want him, I’ll divorce that old guy of mine and run off with him.”
“He’d probably go for you, too.”
“Bobbi, come clean with me. I want to know what’s going on.” Grandma was dressed in a purple dress, elegant but bright, and decked out with a huge jeweled brooch. But it was especially the long silk gloves that made her seem overdressed for the occasion—as she almost always was.
Bobbi planted both her feet on the floor and sat up straight. “Nothing is going on. We’re getting married. I just want a little time to get back to normal life and everything.”
Men were walking across the hall, their arms full of boxes, and the last of the band members—the drummer—was carrying out his equipment. Grandma watched, not saying anything for a time, but finally she announced her diagnosis. “It’s that professor who got killed in Okinawa. That’s who you’re thinking about.”
“No, Grandma. I decided I would marry Richard before I knew that David had died.”
“Maybe so. But Richard was the practical choice, not the one your heart had chosen.”
Bobbi tried to think about that. “No. That’s not true,” she finally said. “I prayed and prayed, and I got my answer.”
“Oh, Bobbi, what a pile of manure.”
“Grandma!”
“Just be glad I chose that word. I had a better one in mind.”
“Why?”
“Bobbi, don’t start blaming God. You can’t go through life half committed to Richard and always saying, ‘Well, I guess that’s what the Lord thought I should do—whether I wanted to or not.’”
“I know. I’ve thought about that. Maybe that’s why I haven’t set a date yet. I want to feel right about this first.”
“Well, at least you’re telling me the truth now.”
Bobbi slumped down in her seat, leaned her head against her grandma’s shoulder. “That first day, when I got home, Richard tried so hard. He said all the right things. I think he really wants to open up with me. But he won’t do it—or can’t. He holds so much back all the time.”
“Oh, Bobbi, you’re making way too much out of this ‘he doesn’t talk to me’ business. Once you’re married, you won’t have time to talk. He’ll be working and you’ll be washing diapers. You’ll just be lucky if you can get the man’s nose out of the newspaper when he finally gets home at night.”
“But I don’t want that kind of marriage. That’s how Mom and Dad have always been.”
“Your parents don’t have a bad marriage.”
“It could be better, Grandma.”
“Bobbi, how old are you now? Twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six.”
“Twenty-six, and you don’t know the first thing about life. I’ve always loved you more than any of my other grandkids—don’t quote me on that—but you’ve never had one bit of sense in you. You imagine life, how it ought to be, and then you get all upset if it doesn’t magically turn out exactly the way you picture it.”
Bobbi knew there was something to that, but she didn’t admit it.
“Bobbi, that Richard is about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. He’s got those silver eyes that make my knees go weak. Either that, or my garters are pulling too hard.”
Grandma suddenly burst into that deep, rough laugh of hers, and Bobbi couldn’t help but laugh with her. Still, she said, “Looks aren’t everything, Grandma. You know that.”
“Maybe not. But they’re plenty important. When you finally get your babies to sleep at night, and you think you’re about to fall asleep yourself—that man could get your motor restarted.”
“Grandma, you’re terrible!”
“I am not. No one tells girls the truth about anything. Sex is not the most important thing in a marriage. Not by a long shot. But it surely can make everything else a lot nicer. And if you can’t get excited about cuddling with that fellow, you’ve got something wrong with you.”
“I do like the way he looks. And I like kissing him. But I just keep thinking that—”
“That’s right. You just keep thinking.”
“I have to. That’s how I am.”
“No, Bobbi. I’ve watched Richard when he’s with you. He’s like a man with his favorite horse. He—”
“What?”
“Don’t you know what I mean? Haven’t you watched the way a man will pat his horse, rub its shoulders, scratch its ears. There’s no greater love than that.”
Bobbi was laughing again.
“Bobbi, he’s so kind and sweet with you. That’s all you need to know about what he thinks. He’s not some slick young fellow who knows how to spread on the sweet talk. He’s honest. He’s good. He’s willing to work hard for you, and he has a good future. You two will talk plenty, but he’s always a man who will say more with his actions than he will with words.” She waved a finger at Bobbi—a finger in purple silk. “Bobbi, you hang on to him. You get him to that altar before he gets tired of your silliness. If you lose that boy, it will break my heart. I want to live a few more years just so I can come over to your folks’ place on Sundays and stare at him over the dinner table.”
“Grandma, I had no idea you were so superficial.” Bobbi sat up again. “I’m quite disappointed in you.”
“I’m not superficial. I’m just the only honest person left on this planet. No one knows how to listen to the truth. It scares them.”
“You told me you were a liar.”
“Well . . . I was lying about that.”
Bobbi gripped her grandmother’s arm. “You know what?” she said. “I think you’re right.”
“About what?”
“About Richard. I think we need to set a date—and not too far off. But I think I’m right too. I won’t settle for that old-fashioned kind of marriage where the man goes off to work and then comes home, reads the paper, and falls asleep in his chair. I want all of Richard, Grandma. I’m happy to look at him, but I also want to know him. And I want him to know me.”
“Bobbi, that’s fine. Try for that kind of closeness. Maybe it’s possible. But we
all have some things inside us that we don’t reveal to anyone. You have to leave that part of Richard alone. You’ll make him and yourself miserable if you keep pushing on bruises that are better not touched.”
“I don’t want to believe that. I want him to know the very worst things about me—and still love me.”
“Oh, Bobbi, you are so dreadfully stupid. Half of marriage is what you don’t know. It’s all about the mystery. Two people can live together for a whole lifetime and only know a little about each other. But that’s okay. It’s part of the romance, part of the fun.”
“I don’t know, Grandma. It just seems like it’s giving up to live that way.”
“Sure, you could call it that. Or maybe you could just say that it’s being human together, sticking it out, doing your best even on the bad days.”
Bobbi thought she understood that much. She knew that no marriage could be as perfect as she wanted hers to be. But she also knew that Richard was suffering, and that he was pretending not to suffer. That had become very clear to her the past couple of weeks since she had come home. She did love him; she did want to marry him. But he had to let her help him. What kind of marriage would she have if she couldn’t even help her husband with his pain?
When everything in the recreation hall had been put away, the floor swept, and the dishes washed, it was almost two in the morning. LaRue had lain down on some chairs by then and had fallen asleep. But Beverly had dried dishes and utensils and the whole time talked with her mom about how beautiful everything had been. And she had asked all about the temple ceremony, wanting to know every detail that Mom would tell her.
Beverly waited until the last second to wake up LaRue, who managed to wander outside, still half asleep.
“Now the fun part comes,” Dad said, when they stepped outside into the cold. “We have to drive home in Wally’s car.”
Beverly, of course, was well aware of that. “Dad, take off those cans,” she said. “Everyone’s going to be looking at us.”
“Who’s everyone? No one else is even up this late.”
“Some people will be. I’m going to slide down in the back seat and hide.”
Dad pulled a pocketknife from his pocket and cut the cans off the back, then opened the trunk and threw them in. “I’m glad we don’t have very far to drive,” he said.
