Look How You Turned Out

by Diane Munier

  He drives toward home. It's then I pay attention to the bag at my feet. It's a brown paper bag with my name written on it. I lean for it and lift it onto my lap.

  "That's from Mom," he says.

  I unfold the top and look inside, finger through tissue paper. I feel the cold fabric and lift it partly out. It's a simple soft white nightgown. It gets to me that she would think of this.

  "It's beautiful," I whisper.

  He laughs. "You won't need it."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You won't need it," he laughs.

  I stare at him a minute, and he radiates joy and…mischief. It lights his handsomeness like Christmas or something.

  I put the gown back in the bag and grab back onto his arm. He looks at me, and I look at him, and we smile.

  He takes us home, and he's giving me five minutes. He's coming in with me to undo my dress. So we get out of the truck, and I already have my door open when he gets there, and I'm lifting the dress and his eyes are right there. "Oh, playing nurse?" he says ogling my white legs.

  I don't answer, I hike my skirts and get to the door and get it open, and he's right behind me, he swings me up in his arms again and carries me over the threshold. I am laughing, and he sets me down, and I swear the old concussion makes a show because I stagger a little, and he catches me. "What's the matter?"

  "Little dizzy," I say.

  "Whoops. You need to eat," he says, his fingers against my cheek.

  I turn and let his jacket slide down my arms, and he takes it and folds it over his arm so he can undo the long row of buttons down my back.

  "Holy…," he says really observing the task. He carefully smooths my hair over my shoulder. "Don't ever cut this," he says.

  "Have to cancel that appointment with Jessica," I say.

  "Not funny," he says, and I feel his knuckles against my back as he begins the task. He fumbles a little, but he's patient.

  "What maniac thought of this," he does mutter once.

  Then he's kissing where the buttons are open. "You taste like cream," he says.

  I don't have a reply. Maybe I don't need that nightgown.

  When he's finished, and he's run his hands between the open sides in back, his hands span my waist. "You're so small I can almost touch my fingers in front." He tries harder. "I can."

  I slowly turn, and he readjusts his hands and they smooth over my back. I say, "Just a little making out, and I have to get upstairs, or we'll never get out of…." His lips are on mine and oh yes, I am on my tiptoes, and we shift, and I fall into a deep lean against him, and he's up for it. He pulls me right up, and the dress is full enough I can wrap my legs around him, and he makes sure I'm in good position. It's a kiss only married people should know about, but I already know about it from other times because he doesn't hold anything back when he gets going. Oh god, I want to go straight up the stairs to the bed. Heck with wherever we're going. We only need the Serta, and we're good to go, or these stairs will do.

  "Bedilia," he is saying because even though we've stopped kissing I haven't caught up, and I haven't moved or opened my eyes. But I slowly do. He has literally put me in a hypnotic state.

  "Bedilia," he says again, soft but proud like always, "go upstairs and change your clothes and pack lightly we're coming back tomorrow." He sets me on my feet before the stairs, and he's telling me he's running across the street to change, and he'll meet me in the truck in five minutes. Five minutes.

  I don't nod or anything. I lift the dress high and walk up the stairs to my room. I am so glad to be me. If this is self-esteem, I'm a geyser.

  He isn't kidding about the five minutes. He has the audacity to beep the horn. "Really?" I say aloud, looking for my shoes.

  So I find my shoes and grab my bag, and I run downstairs and have to stop at the bottom because I'm dizzy again, all that time looking under my bed for my shoes.

  In the kitchen I put some of our cookies in a little bag, and I look around, and it dawns on me, after today I won't live here anymore, and a big block of 'what the heck' threatens, and I run out of there. Once outside I make sure the door is locked then I hurry to the truck. I get in, stow my stuff, and he hands me a Twinkie, and I hold up the bag of cookies, and we laugh.

  Then he hands me one of Juney's little bottles of milk. "You're so good to us kids," I tell him.

  He peels the top off that little glug, and I open the Twinkie and insist he takes the first bite. Then I do a little pantomime while I finish the Twinkie, saying 'mmmm,' and I let some of the whipped cream stay on the corner of my mouth and look in the mirror to verify its location, then point to it, and he takes one last look at the road, and he licks it off, and he swerves a little and laughs and says, "Okay Officer, get a grip!"

  And it's pretty much that way for the next sixty miles until we cross the river and end up downtown and he pulls underneath a high-rise hotel that overlooks the river, and a valet comes forward and gets my door. I reach inside and get my stuff wishing I'd put the gown in my overnight case and didn't have to hold a brown paper bag, but it's all good when Marcus takes everything from me anyway, and we walk close as we can through the glass doors.

  Chapter 52

  Scenes from a honeymoon part 2

  At the desk, they tell us congratulations and offer to take our bags, and Marcus says he's got it. We take the elevator up, and there are people on, and he looks at me and smiles, and I smile and as soon as the people are off, he leans over and offers me his lips, and I take him up on it…quickly.

  We are laughing when we get off, laughing through the snow like a couple of crazies, and he runs down the hall, and it makes me laugh more because he's going in the wrong direction, so I have a headstart, but I reach the door first. He's got the key so he takes his time, and he's got our stuff but he walks kind of sexy, no kind of, he's sexy, and it's a saunter, so I stick out my hip and drag my hand down the center of my body, make a u and I figure I'm on some camera somewhere, but I'll never see these peeping toms again so deal.

  He gets real close then, looking at me like…he's going to nail me real soon, and his bag is slung over his shoulder and mine is in his hand same side, my paper bag crushed under the same arm and other side he just holds the key and a gift bag they gave us at check-in, and I grab the key and swipe it, and open the door, step deep inside and holy cowbells it's so awesome in here, I have my arms out wide, and I spin around, and then I go to the window and look out at all the buzzers a rounders, the ribbon of highway going east and west into forever, the cars moving past like pawns in the game of Life, God's big hand where Juney's usually is, and a barge slugging through the gray river water, bridges in the distance, and a frosty gray sky and the beginnings of more snow and the cold glass on my cheek when he moves up behind me and runs his hands all the way to the waistband of my tights. "You won't need these," he says.

  And he's carrying me again and he throws me onto the bed and I bounce like three times and it's so soft, so amazing I groan and remember to bring my legs somewhat together, and he dives over me and opens my legs back up so he can be between, and he kisses me again, not shy about anything, no holding back apparently, so I'll just go with it, why not…he's my husband.

  He's my husband.

  Chapter 53

  Scenes from a honeymoon part 3

  "What were you afraid of?" he asks, cutting another piece of his ribeye and holding it in front of my mouth because I got the salmon and we've already eaten that, and it was delicious. I take the bite, and I'm chewing.

  "I wasn't afraid, but…if I turned him down, it seemed arrogant."

  "So it was pity?" he says concerning my reasons for dating Myron.

  "No. Not pity. Not at all. More like…what the heck."

  "What the heck?"

  "I mean…why not? You weren't interested.” he protests, but I continue, “and there I was, and he was pretty overwhelming…like a wooer, you know? And I hadn't had that, and he seemed…to admire me…this college grad all
full of herself…overselling herself.”

  He laughs, but it's fake. He's chewing the deliciously crusted over and perfectly seasoned piece of beef, but it's everything I'm saying he's really chewing on. "Overselling yourself. I doubt that. Underselling I could believe."

  "Marcus…you were right…what you said before. I didn't get that job because of all my…preparation. I was…the new toy…I think. I've had trouble admitting it."

  "I should never have said that," he said. "I was unfair. That damn guy…I should have ripped his smug head off when he showed up."

  "No, you shouldn't have."

  "And he seduced you."

  "He was a gentleman. I could have refused. It's just…well, it doesn't matter now."

  "Yeah? It matters. The whole reason I went out with Jessica…was you dating him. Artie made sure I knew. Good old Artie, ball-buster. The Abbott of my monastic life. Problem was…old Artie was slumming it with Teresa so…you know?"

  "Bitter against good old Artie?"

  "Nah. I don't blame him. But it hit me hard…you dating White. I'm not…why we talking about that guy on our honeymoon?" He pokes a big bite of salad in his mouth.

  "You brought it up?" I say in a tiny voice before taking a big drink of water.

  He laughs then, his foot moving up my leg. "Get over here. You're too far away," he says, using his napkin then reaching around to pull my chair next to him.

  "Cheesecake time?" I ask in the same small voice. I mean to feed it to him.

  "Hey, by the window. I'll get the pillows and blanket. You bring the food," he says. "I got a couple of ideas. Real creative.”

  I’m wearing his discarded shirt. I figure I’ll save the white gown for later.

  Chapter 54

  Scenes from a honeymoon part 4

  "Your mom says I make you smile," I say between licking my fork.

  It's a little cold by the window. He's bunched the pillow so he can watch my every move. He’s rubbing my back. The lights outside can be seen in ribbons of traffic twinkling through the silvery highway lights.

  "Continue," he says lazily. We are loved up, fed up. He has been successful with my…issue. He’s pretty proud. And I…am new.

  Then his hand is on the small of my back, a place he absolutely loves, he says,

  I feel it, and my eyes might cross.

  Then later, in the bath, I am laying against him, my toe poking in the hot faucet drip. He loves my feet, he says.

  There's no part he doesn't love, even my smart mouth. He loves my mouth he says.

  We are kissing and kissing, and there are bubbles all around us, and we're drinking champagne and eating strawberries they delivered to our room with our meal. We have kissed for over an hour. He's added hot water to this bath three times.

  It's perfect…it's, you know…poifect.

  "I'd like three," I'm saying. "Like a couple more close together, plus Juney. Three."

  "I'd like seven," he says, a big smile, then he kisses me before I can scream, what the hell?

  "I love being a dad," he says breaking the kiss just when I was getting into it. "And I'd love to put one in you…every nine months or so." He laughs then, a big big laugh, and I push him under the water and use my weight to hold him there, and he blows lots of bubbles under there, and he's up like nothing and rolls us over so I'm on the bottom, and he puts me under, then lets me up laughing, then he rolls us again.

  There is water everywhere, and we’re laughing. I’ve screamed a couple of times.

  He breaks off laughing. "They're going to think I'm killing you in here."

  "Well, you did nearly drown me," I say, my heavy curtain of hair dripping all over him.

  He pulls me back down, kissing me and humming into me. "You are so delicious," he says in that voice that makes me quake, and we kiss some more.

  Chapter 55

  Scenes from a honeymoon part 5

  "Look at you," he says toweling me off.

  We face the mirror, me first, him behind me. I watch his face as he admires me, his arms coming under mine, his big hands covering Sid and Gladys, and I have to say they are looking their blushing best for him.

  He wears a towel low on his hips, and I turn to him, and where that towel is joined, I pull it off. "You won't be needing this," I say.

  I'm not that shy girl anymore…not now, with his admiration…and the Champagne.

  All those years I had to sneak, always trying to see him, just wanting to look. Now here he is in all his glory, and it is glorious. I step closer, and he's running his hands all over me while he watches in the mirror. "You're perfect," he says, and he gives this satisfied grunt.

  I know I'm not perfect, far from it.

  "I see you arguing in that head of yours. Just accept it. You're perfect," he says.

  He gets close enough to graze my lips. My face is lifted, and I'm breathing with him as we stay like this, so close. He picks me up again and stands there holding me. He's looking at it in the mirror, me in his arms.

  "Now there's a Christmas card," he says, and we laugh, and I kick my feet a little and wave.

  "Making Merry," I say, cause every card needs a caption.

  "Let's do it," he says hurrying to the bed and once more throwing me there.

  After round four, I lean back and put my hands on his face. "When I got to the chapel, I saw you…waiting. And I had this moment…I made vows then."

  "When?"

  "Looking in the window. I…knew how much I loved you…how much you loved me. I felt it."

  Tears come to my eyes now. I'm so happy.

  "When you opened those doors," he says, his hands on my face, his thumbs catching my slow roll of tears, "my heart stopped baby. You looked so beautiful. And…sure. Like…a woman. My woman."

  It's a silent stare then, me looking into him, him into me.

  "I'm so happy," I whisper.

  He groans and gathers me against him, my leg over his hip, our heads on the pillow where we can gaze at one another, touch one another. He's mine to explore, and I do, each whorl of stubble, the blunt line of his nose, the small knot near its bridge where he tells me he broke it in tenth grade wrestling, the small scar near his hairline, he fell off a wall trying to get away from a German Shepherd, shortly after becoming a cop. I never knew that. Well, he tells me, I don't know everything after all. The lines of his face, his thick dark brows, his soft full head of hair, over and over I comb it through with my fingers. He does the same, his long fingers touching me, every curve and dip, smoothing over me like I'm precious. So much is conveyed in the way he lovingly worries his hands over me again and again.

  The only light in the room comes from the glass wall of windows. We've left the drapes open all day, all evening, and the bathroom light we left on from our bath so these soft colors show up like distorted squares and rectangles of yellow or soft gray cast over sections of this room. Much as I love here, I love outside of here too, but I'm not yet ready to let any other reality pierce this sanctuary, this Eden.

  It's quiet discovery and lovely, and we are so wrapped in one another wrapped in the new and tender promises we've made, the love we've made, time ceases to matter even as it relentlessly leaks away and I imagine what it would be like to view us from the ceiling, or the roof, or the sky, Marcus and I in our nest, open, sanguine, equals in love…commitment. Oneness…this is it. No wonder it feels like heaven.

  Chapter 56

  Scenes from a honeymoon part 6

  "What's he say?" I ask trying to read the message for myself. It is Juney's bedtime. He and Marcus had arranged ahead of time that Juney would text him goodnight. They do this, Marcus says, when Juney is with Elaine, and he can borrow Granma's phone.

  Marcus reads the text to himself then he sighs and rests the phone on his bare stomach for a minute.

  "Let me see," I say, and he holds it up so I can read it. "Dad," I say aloud, "that cat is back. It looks so cold. Can we please, please, please, please…," I pause here to laugh at the four 'pl
eases.' The kid has style, "...keep it? Granma says I can't feed it unless you say okay."

  "I'm sorry," Marcus says. "He's just used to me tucking him in."

  "Why would you be sorry about that?" I ask. "Give it here," I say.

  "No. You'll tell him to feed it," he says.

  We wrestle around a little as he holds the phone high on the other side of him, so I have to reach, but his arm is so long, forget it, but it's fun trying.

  We kiss for a minute, and his arm lowers, and I grab the phone and roll off of him, and he's saying, "You little monster."

  I'm already texting and speaking aloud as I write. "Feed that kitty little man you might entertain an angel unaware."

  Marcus says, "What?"

  "He hasn't had a pet for a while," I say. "He can feed it at least, see if it hangs around."

  "Bedilia," he says as I hit send.

  "Yeah?"

  "He got ringworm once from a stray. He needs to go to bed."

  "Well, he can feed it. He'll sleep better," I say.

  Juney texts back, "So I can feed him?"

  "Yes," I text quickly.

  "Bedilia," Marcus says taking the phone from me. To my surprise, he's trying to be nice, but he looks miffed.

  "Are you serious Marcus?"

  "Well…I've always been serious about Juney," he says.

  I am looking at him, but he looks away first.

  "Are you mad that I said he could feed the cat?"

  "No," he says putting the phone on the nightstand and pulling me closer. He's threading his fingers through a piece of my hair, and I'm still looking at him, and he's not giving me his eyes. When he does look, he says, "It's just..we'll talk about things, right?"

  "Right," I say already wanting to defend myself.

  "I mean…what chance will I have with Juney if you come along and…we just need to talk about things."