by Shawn Inmon
“Okay, now I have one more question.”
Chapter Fifty
Veronica and DJ stayed at the falls for hours, trying to figure out how this fit into the puzzle of their lives. DJ confessed that he wanted to ask Veronica to marry him right after their first date, but that he couldn’t imagine keeping a secret like that from her.
DJ, you are a better person than me. I’ve always known that, but here is further proof. I rushed headlong into two marriages and was wishing for a third, and I never considered that I was holding a secret that would serve as a constant wall. And you, my Dimitri, you would never dream of asking me to marry you if there was something you couldn’t tell me.
They decided they wouldn’t ask about how each had died. That was information that neither wanted to give or get, particularly. They also agreed that when they were alone, they could be free to talk and think as they really were—people out of time. Around others, they would strive to continue to be period-correct.
“Did you ever make yourself rich?” DJ asked.
“Oh, yes. Last life, I was rich. I traveled. I saw everything I ever wanted to see, and I felt completely empty and unhappy. My turn for a question. Did you have children in your last life?”
DJ nodded. A haunted look played across his face. “I had a son, Maximillian. He was an adventurer. He had all the guts that I lacked. He traveled the world. He died in a rock climbing accident. That was the biggest factor in why I restarted. You?”
“Yes, two girls, Sarah and Nellie. When I woke up back here, I did everything I could to bring them back into the world. I married the same man, even though we divorced in my first life. I did everything I could to bring them back. I even got pregnant on the same night. I was so sure it was Sarah, but I miscarried. I haven’t gotten pregnant since. My turn again. Did you have a good marriage?”
DJ shook his head. “Nah. You know her. Remember Lilly from Artie’s?”
A memory flashed through Veronica’s mind, the day she told DJ he had better ask Lilly out, or he was going to lose her. She nodded. “I remember.”
“We got married pretty young. I guess it was okay early on, and we had Max. My family never liked her though, so I should have known. That may or may not be why I took you to meet my family on our first date.”
“So, if your Bunica had looked me up and down with her evil eye and pronounced, “No good,” we wouldn’t be sitting here right now?”
DJ laughed. “Probably not! I knew they would love you, though. How can anyone look at you and not love you?”
“Believe me, plenty have managed that trick.”
“Ronnie, you know what all this means, though, don’t you?”
Veronica searched through her mind, couldn’t come up with an answer.
DJ got out of the car, walked around the front and opened her door. He got down on one knee.
“Veronica McAllister, I am woefully unprepared for this moment, though I have had four years to prepare. I do not have a ring. I am living at home with my family. I have a pretty dead-end job working at Artie’s. I hope I’m not overselling myself, but, will you marry me?”
“I have lived too many lives to know for sure if there are soul mates. If there is such a thing, though, you are it for me. I know this for sure—marrying you will be the happiest thing I have done in several lifetimes.”
“So, is that a ‘yes’ then?”
“As much as I love you, you can be so frustrating. Yes, that is a ‘yes.’ Now get up here and kiss me.”
He did.
VERONICA THOUGHT SHE had met all of DJ’s family, but on the days leading up to the wedding, they began to arrive by plane, bus, and RV. The wedding was held on the first Saturday of September, 1964. DJ’s family rented a hall so there would be room for everyone. Veronica, Doris, and DJ’s mother, Maria, planned everything, and his Bunica oversaw the food preparation.
It was a joyous party. With DJ’s family, there could be no other kind. Wallace McAllister found a new golfing buddy among DJ’s uncles, and Doris and Maria found they had more in common with each other than just their children.
The wedding took on a distinct Eastern European flavor. DJ and Veronica both agreed it was easier to go along with that than try to persuade DJ’s Bunica otherwise. That meant the night before the wedding, Veronica was kidnapped by DJ’s uncles and cousins. DJ had warned her it was coming, so she was fully prepared.
The men whisked her off to a private house, where she was plied with liqueurs and desserts, while they negotiated with DJ for her release. In the end, the kidnappers settled for a bottle of whiskey and two bottles of wine, to be delivered at the wedding the next day. Veronica was delivered safely back to the comfort of her parent’s house slightly tipsy, but none the worse for wear.
The next morning, Veronica got ready for the wedding in her parent’s house, then DJ’s cousins drove her to where DJ had spent the night. He was dressed in a blue suit he had bought for the occasion, and then he and Veronica walked to the church, surrounded by his family. When they arrived, they paused at the steps, and the wedding party formed a moving circle around them, singing a song Veronica couldn’t understand. Still, the sweetness of the melody brought tears to her eyes and threatened her perfectly done makeup.
Inside, everyone else was already seated, and the wedding party led DJ and Veronica to the front of the church, where they said their vows. Immediately after, Veronica was led to a chair, where Bunica removed her bridal veil and replaced it with a white scarf. This symbolized her transition from bride to wife, from a girl to a woman who would take on the responsibilities of a household. While Bunica replaced the veil, DJ’s mother, Maria, sang a song from their old country called Say Good-bye, Dear Bride, to Your Father and Mother.
The solemnness of this ceremony was the last straw for Veronica. Tears streamed down her face as she assumed her new role. Five lifetimes and four marriages, and nothing has ever felt like this before. This isn’t a civil ceremony, this is a lifetime commitment. She looked into DJ’s smiling eyes, standing before her, waiting. And, this is the right man.
She mouthed, “I love you,” to DJ.
“I know,” he answered, with a wink.
Chapter Fifty-One
Sitting at the head table, Veronica leaned into DJ and said, “If this isn’t a little like My Big Fat Greek Wedding, I don’t know what is.”
“Two things. One, you and I are the only ones here who have ever heard of that movie, and two, we are not Greek. We don’t think everything can be fixed with Windex.”
“I think you know what I mean, my new husband.”
“I do, I do. I know we can be a little overwhelming when you get our family together like this, but what a party!”
Just then, DJ’s father, Constantin, picked up a microphone and turned to the small band, which had been quietly playing in the corner. “Hello, friends! It is time for the Bride’s first dance. As father of the groom, I claim the honor.”
DJ elbowed Veronica lightly under the table and said, “You’re going to like this. Here, take this and put it around your wrist.” He handed her a silk purse.
She walked out to the middle of the dance floor, where Constantin bowed deeply, then began a slow waltz in time to the music. After only a few seconds, DJ’s Uncle Nicolae, who everyone called “Nicky” cut in. As he did, Constantin slipped an envelope into her purse.
The process repeated itself over and over, with men lining up to dance a few seconds with Veronica and slipping an envelope into her purse.
When the line finally petered out, DJ stepped into the limelight, bowed, and took Veronica on their first dance as a married couple. Really, their first dance ever, as they had never had a reason to dance before.
“Do you have something to slip into my purse, too?”
“I have something much better to give you, but you will have to wait a few hours, until we can slip away.”
Veronica laid her head against his shoulder and smiled.
WHEN THE
MUSIC WAS finally done, when the food had all been packed away and every corner of the church’s reception room swept clean, it was finally time for the happy couple to leave.
They drove straight to the airport and got on a plane to New York City. Veronica had told DJ she had gone there on her honeymoon with Danny Coleman, and how much she had loved it. She had thought it was best for them to pick another destination, somewhere new, but DJ disagreed.
“It’s a place you love. Excitement. Broadways shows. Bright lights. Museums we will both love,” DJ had said.
Veronica couldn’t disagree with any of that, so they agreed that New York it would be. DJ had told her to pack two suitcases with everything she would need for a long stay, but had not told her how long that was.
When they got to their hotel—a nice hotel not far from Central Park, clean, but not gorgeous—he had told her why.
“You love this city, and there’s too much here for us to see in a few days, or even a few weeks. We need time to absorb it. So, unless you strongly disagree, I want us to live here. Not forever, but for a while.”
Veronica’s mouth fell open. “Oh, DJ. There’s no way we can. We don’t have a place to live, and isn’t it expensive to live in New York?”
“It is, but not nearly like it will be in another few decades. Eventually, it will be impossible for a young couple working modest jobs to live anywhere near where we are. We’d have to move out to one of the boroughs. But, in 1964, with a little bit of a head start, and if we both find a job, we can swing it. I’ve been going down to the library for the past few weeks and looking at the For Rent ads in the New York newspapers. We can do it, if you want. If you don’t, that’s okay too. Then, we can have a nice honeymoon here and go back home in a week or so.”
“You said, ‘with a little head start.’ What are you thinking is our head start?”
“Have you looked in those envelopes in your purse, yet?”
“No, I just stuck them in my carry on.”
“Go look.”
Veronica rustled through the bag she had used for her carry on and pulled out the purse. It felt heavier than she remembered it.
“Here, bring it over here, we can open them on the bed.”
Veronica sat down with DJ and emptied the envelopes out. She opened the first one and a fifty dollar bill fell out, along with a slip of paper that had writing on it that she couldn’t read. She handed it to DJ with eyebrows raised.
“It says, “Many blessings on both your heads.”
She opened another envelope. This time, two one hundred dollar bills came out, along with another blessing.
“I knew everyone was slipping money into the purse, but I thought it was just ones and maybe a five or two. Don’t tell me everyone gave us money like this.”
“Oh, yes. In our family, no one buys gifts. They do this. They would think they were cursing us if they only gave us a few dollars. It’s great for us now, but believe me, it will all even out. I’ve got a lot of cousins, nieces, and nephews that will get married over the next few decades, and we’ll be doing the same.”
Veronica nodded. “Of course. What a sweet tradition. I love your family, DJ.”
He shook his head. “No. Our family, now. We are all one.”
Veronica continued to open envelopes and shake bills out onto the bed. When the last envelope was empty, they counted the bills and found it was a bit over three thousand dollars.
“Now, there’s our head start, if we want it. So, what do you say? Is New York our new temporary home, or is it just our honeymoon spot?”
“Can we go look for an apartment tomorrow?”
“We’ll have to! We only have one more night in this hotel.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Veronica woke up the next day as excited as she had been in several lifetimes. “C’mon, sleepy head,” she said, nudging DJ awake. “One more night in this place, remember? We’ve got to go find a place to live!”
“What time is it?”
“It’s almost nine o’clock.”
“And we’re in New York. That means it’s only six o’clock back home.” He buried his head under the pillow.
“If you are awake enough to do math, you are awake enough to take a shower.”
He did. When Veronica put her shoulder into something, there was no such thing as an immovable object.
Forty-five minutes later, they were showered, dressed, and on the sidewalk in front of their hotel.
“Which way, my love?”
“Well, my favorite place, when I was here last time, was Greenwich Village, around Washington Square Park. It’s probably too expensive, but New York University is right there, so there’s got to be some kind of housing for poor students. Let’s start there.”
They elected to begin figuring out New York’s mass transit system, and so rode a bus instead of paying for a taxi. They got lost, got on the wrong bus several times, and wasted several hours, but they didn’t care. They met one of their primary goals—to get to know the city.
DJ had done some research before arriving, but when their feet were actually on a Greenwich Village sidewalk, things seemed loud, fast, and a little intimidating. Veronica had the idea to walk up to NYU and look for bulletin boards that might be advertising housing students could afford. It was a good idea, but the bulletin board system was not efficient. Every place they called was already gone, filled by NYU students.
They walked back toward the main business district that spoked away from Washington Square Park and realized they hadn’t eaten anything since they arrived, so they looked for somewhere to buy lunch. They walked past record stores, head shops, and mod clothing stores. They finally saw a place called The Cellar Door, which appeared to be just that—a door that led down into a dark, gloomy cellar. What caught their eye, though, was the sign that said, “Help Wanted—Cook.”
DJ pointed to it and said, “They’re playing our song.” When they walked down the stairs, they were pleasantly surprised to find a fairly large café. There were a dozen tables, a long bar, and a small stage at the back that was dark at this time of day.
“I think this is like the Artie’s of Greenwich Village,” DJ said, smiling. They approached a man who stood behind the long counter, wiping it down with a white rag. They took a seat at the bar, and DJ said, “We’ll have two of whatever you’ve got for a special, and I’ll take the job on the sign out front.”
The man, who had a cigarette dangling from one lip, grunted, and looked them over. He leaned both elbows onto the bar and pushed his nose a foot away from DJ’s. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, in a whiskey-stained voice, “you come back around here and show me what you can do on a grill. If I like what I see, you got the job, the food is on the house, and I’ll hire your pretty girlfriend to waitress.”
DJ said, “She my pretty wife, but, deal!” He stuck his hand out to the man, but he had already turned away and was walking to the grill. DJ turned to look at Veronica with a look that said, “Now what have I done?” then followed the man into the cramped kitchen.
The man’s cigarette had an impossibly long ash DJ watched with morbid fascination. “Here’s some eggs. Make two eggs, over easy, a ham omelet, a side of bacon, and two side orders of whole wheat toast.
DJ went into a short warm up routine, cracking his knuckles, rolling his shoulders, even doing a deep knee bend, when he glanced at cigarette man, who was clearly unamused. “Right. Okay.” DJ looked around at where everything was for a moment, then sprang into action. He cracked eggs with a dramatic flair, slapped bacon onto the grill, buttered bread and dropped it on the grill, too.
The man wandered back out to where Veronica was sitting. “Is he always a comedian?”
Veronica smiled a little sadly, and said, “Yes, he is. But, he’s also the best fry cook I’ve ever seen.”
They both watched DJ work behind the grill for another few moments, then said, “Okay, he knows his way around a grill. My cook quit yesterday, so he can start right
now.” He looked Veronica up and down. “Howsabout it? You want a job, too?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Apron’s over there. After you two eat, you can start right in.” He pointed to an older woman sitting reading a newspaper in a booth. “That’s Margie. She thinks she owns the place, but really she just owns me. She’s my wife. She’ll show you the ropes. I’m Tony.”
Veronica gave Tony her biggest smile and said, “You won’t be sorry.”
Tony stopped, considered, and said, “You know, that’s what they always say when I hire ‘em. Most of the time, they’re wrong.”
It took them a few days longer, and they ended up having to extend their stay at a hotel, but eventually, they tracked down an apartment they could afford. It was a small studio apartment directly above a dry cleaners that smelled strongly of the chemicals from below. It was the size of Veronica’s walk in closet in her beautiful home in Falling Water in her third life.
It was essentially a one-room apartment that had the tiniest imaginable bathroom tacked on as an afterthought. The only way both of them could be in the bathroom at the same time was if one of them stood in the claustrophobic shower. There was a murphy bed that converted their living room into their bedroom, and one corner had a hot plate and old refrigerator.
They loved it. It was in the heart of the pulsing city they wanted to explore, and the only time they ever went home was to sleep.
When they weren’t working , they ate a sack lunch in Washington Square Park, listening to someone playing their guitar, or watching people play chess. The Frisbee had been invented by then, and there always seemed to be kids on breaks between classes from NYU, flinging the disc around. It was their favorite place in the city.
Because Veronica and DJ wanted to make their money last as long as possible, they didn’t go to Broadway shows as often as they would have liked. Still, they went at least once a month. They learned where the best bad seats were in each theater, and haunted the front of the theater at show time, hoping a scalper might get desperate and unload a pair of tickets at a discount.