The Palisades by Tom Schabarum

Author:Tom Schabarum [Schabarum, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Cascadia Publishing
Published: 2010-01-09T17:00:00+00:00

14.

Marjorie

When we were married, I refused to wear white - I insisted on wearing a pale yellow chiffon gown. It was a compromise between myself, and the feelings of the Welch’s, who’d agreed to throw a small reception afterwards. I looked like one of The Supremes, all angular, skinny to a fault and curiously out of date. My only guest was Mrs. Jorgenson, who gave me away with a soft push toward the priest. I kept looking at her as my only link to the past, but she smiled constantly, unaware of my need for her that day.

Eric wore a black tuxedo with a white cummerbund though he matched my dress with a tiny yellow boutonniere and a satin button-snap bow tie. We looked more like silly prom-goers. He had a somewhat dazed look to him and his eyes were watery and distant. I asked him if anything was wrong.

He said, “No.”

Mrs. Welch flitted about like a fly deciding where to land. It was the only day I was going to let her fuss about me because I knew it was for her benefit more than mine. I was not the kind of person she had in mind, but she’d relaxed into the fact that her only son was going to marry me and convinced herself that she would make the best of an awkward situation. Mr. Welch watched casually from the corners and was pressured into dancing by his daughter who had flown in from the East. She seemed pre-occupied and loose-limbed when I saw her, her face all smirks one minute then deadly serious the next. I couldn’t really figure her out.

I was trying on make-up at the Welch’s a couple of days before the wedding when she arrived. She came in looking almost distracted and was overburdened by her luggage. It looked as if she was going to be staying for a while, but as it turned out she was gone shortly after the wedding because there was no one left for her to talk to when Eric and I left.

“Why you’re so pretty,” she said off-handedly, “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

I said, “Oh? I’m not disappointing you, am I?” Maybe I was too glib. I suspected she got all her information from her mother.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “that was a rotten thing to say. My name’s Melissa, how do you like me so far?” She laughed in a fluttery sort of way. She seemed to not be connecting with herself. Her body did one thing, but her head caught up with her as if it had just remembered something. Her actions were vaguely familiar because they reminded me of the people we’d seen in Big Sur and up in Topanga. I thought that maybe she was on something.

“I think what I need is a glass of water.” She threw her luggage in a heap on the ground. “It is always so hot out here. That’s why I left. No seasons to speak of. Follow me.

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