Date Night on Union Station
Page 16
Joe looked at Kelly and cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve got more sense than to imagine I can do any better, and if it doesn’t work out, the ice harvester is big enough that we won’t be in each other’s hair. Will you be my wife before I lose the courage to try?”
“I can’t believe this is happening!” Kelly looked around wildly for an escape route, but Blythe had a death grip on her fingers, and the imported beer had kicked in and was making her head spin. Hold on to that as an excuse, she told herself as she gave in to the insanity, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “But what about guests? Can’t I even have time to invite your parents?”
“You’ll send them a picture, it’s better,” Blythe stated with finality. Maintaining a firm grip on Kelly’s hand, she guided her to the guitar-shaped altar. “Just think of all the money you’re saving by not having to feed a lot of guests.”
Chastity installed Joe in the groom spot and the Elvis impersonator launched into “Love Me Tender.” Kelly blacked out for a moment, but suddenly she heard Joe answering, “I do.”
As if in a dream, Elvis turned to her and asked, “Do you, Aunty Kelly, take Joe to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honor him all the days of your life?”
“I do,” Kelly answered softly, but then she snapped back into the present and grabbed Elvis by the collar. “No, wait! This isn’t right.”
“Too late,” the impersonator drawled and turned to Joe, whose face had fallen with Kelly’s sudden change of heart. “That will be thirty creds with the marriage certificate, twenty creds if you want to skip it and take your chances that she’ll remember when she’s sober.”
“I guess I better get it in writing,” Joe replied sadly, extracting thirty creds from his various pockets.
“No, you don’t understand, you have to ask me again. My name is Kelly Frank, not Aunty Kelly,” she explained while glaring at Blythe.
“How was I supposed to know that?” Blythe looked at her suspiciously, as if Kelly was trying to pull a fast one. “Anyway, next time Elvis asks you for your name, you should tell him yourself.”
“I can fix it in postproduction,” the Elvis impersonator assured everybody. But seeing Kelly’s disappointed look, he sighed and took her hand, placing it back in Joe’s even as he accepted the money in exchange.
“Do you, Kelly Frank, take Joe to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honor him all the days of your life?”
“I do,” Kelly answered a second time.
“Then, by the power vested in me by the Stryx of Union Station, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Please fill in your names and sign the certificate.”
Joe stepped close to Kelly and tilted her face up in his calloused hands, and she felt her knees weaken as they bumped noses maneuvering for their first kiss. “I never forgot your eyes,” Joe murmured as he nuzzled her ear, much to the disgust of the girls who wanted to hurry up and take pictures. “It just took me a while to recognize you with all that hair.”
“I can cut it off again,” she offered drowsily. “The last time a wigmaker paid me enough to get me out of debt for almost a month.”
A chime sounded in her ear and the message “Collect call from mother,” materialized before her eyes. Kelly thought about it for almost a half a second before she refused to accept the charges.
Date Night now has a sequel!
So many readers wanted to know what happens to Kelly and Joe, not to mention all of the aliens, that I put everything else aside and wrote a sequel - Alien Night on Union Station. It picks up five years after the events of Date Night, where we find Kelly has several new diplomatic puzzles to solve.
About the Author
E. M. Foner lives in Northampton, MA with an imaginary German Shepherd who’s been trained to bite bankers. The author welcomes reader comments at e_foner@yahoo.com.