50. Anderson
50
ANDERSON
J une’s lips part in a gasp, and I know she’s going to be mad that I said it, but it felt necessary. Dad’s eyes bulge, and Mom stutters, “Wha ... what?”
“Today, we went to the courthouse and?—"
“My son got married like some Green Card beggar?”
I try for a charming smile, but Mom hasn’t fallen for those since I was a child. Still, it’s my only defense. “We didn’t want some big, impersonal thing like the cousins always do.” I take June’s hand in mine and stare into her eyes. “We wanted today to be about us.”
She sighs and smiles at me, nodding as she takes my hand in hers. “I know it’s not what either of you would have wanted for him, but it was perfect for us. I hope you can understand why we did it.”
Dad starts to speak, but Mom cuts him off. “It is perfectly understandable. I don’t like it, but I don’t have to. This isn’t about me. Your happiness is what matters on your wedding day.”
Only then does Dad get a word in edgewise. He lifts his martini to us. “To the happy couple.”
I’m almost too stunned to join in the toast, but I do. June, too, a moment later than me. We drink, and after ordering our meals, things fall into an awkward silence. I’m not sure what to say to make small talk with my parents. I’ve been doing it my whole life. Talking about nothing is a West art form. But now, it feels like wasted air.
What’s the point exactly?
These people are my parents. There shouldn’t need to be subterfuge between us. Given the last meeting we had with Dad, I’m done pretending and playing those games. Granted, we can’t speak candidly in the restaurant—god only knows my father must be the target of legal investigations, and I know I am, too—but aside from pretending to be a legal angel, I am done with the hell of lying about who and what I am.
And that is why I had to tell them the truth right now.
It was eating at me the moment I saw Mom. She has every right to know her son is married. It’s bad enough that we did it without her, but if she heard from someone else before she heard it from me, she might actually die of embarrassment. The courthouse is peppered with important people, many of whom belong to the same clubs as my parents. She would have heard it from someone if I hadn’t been the one to tell her. I just hope June understands about all of that.
“So how?—"
“A Thursday,” Mom says, perplexed. “Why a Thursday for your wedding day?”
June fields that one. “Because everyone we know was at work.”
That earns a smile from Mom. “Smart of you.”
“Actually, it was his idea.”
“You’re getting nothing but coal in your stocking this year, Mister.”
I laugh. “When you thought it was June’s idea, she was smart. But when you learn it’s mine, I’m getting coal? Not sure I like this double standard.”
“I didn’t give birth to June. She owes me nothing. You on the other hand?—"
“Actually,” June interrupts, “I owe you and Elliot everything.”
“How’s that?” Dad asks.
“Because you made Anderson,” she says with a little shrug. “I owe you two my future happiness.”
Mom softens. “I’m glad you think so highly of our son, June. And I am glad you’re a part of our family now. You make him happier than I’ve ever seen him, and you’ve been a stalwart partner in his ups and downs. We could not ask for more in a daughter-in-law.”
“I’m just returning the favor.”
I huff a laugh and quietly tell her, “I’ve never had to take care of you when you were shot, and I’d appreciate it if we never, ever even that score.”
She giggles. “I’ll do my best to never make you have to do that.”
“It’s all I ask.”
The conversation turns lighter—my cousin George is getting married in a few months, and Mom is heavily involved because they’re having it at our country club. She doesn’t even bother to make jabs about wishing that was what we’d done. She’s on her best behavior, it seems.
Dad, on the other hand, is remarkably quiet. I can’t tell if it’s because he feels insulted to have not been at our wedding or if it is some other reason. But once Mom and June start talking about George’s tablescapes, Dad quietly says, “See? You missed all this fun.”
I snort a laugh. Did Dad just tell a joke? “I take it she’s taken over George’s?—"
“Mm, hmm,” he says, forking his steak. “It is a pity we didn’t have the chance to witness this alleged wedding ourselves, but you were likely wise to skip the fuss.”
“Alleged wedding?”
He looks down his nose at June, who is still distracted by Mom. “Am I to believe you were wed just because she’s in a white dress?”
“Why would I lie about this?”
“To force me into accepting her.”
“Marrying June is something I did for me. It has nothing to do with you.” I smile, shaking my head at him. “Dad, I’m done lying to you about things. No more bullshit between us. That part of my life is over, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not sneaking around with her, and I’m not hiding her away. You’re not going to break us up. She’s my wife. You accept that fact, or you don’t. That’s up to you.” I pause, trying to figure out how to prove it to him in a way he can’t refute. “Also, feel free to look it up in the public record. I can’t fake that.”
He scoffs. “Anyone can fake anything.”
“Okay, Dad. Whatever you say.”
His gaze narrows on me. “You truly married that girl?”
“Yes. And I would have done it sooner if I thought I’d be able to talk her into it.”
That narrow gaze turns to her. “She is comely.”
I laugh. “That’s the nicest thing you can say about her?”
“Did she sign a prenup?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
I roll my eyes. “Dad?—"
“Fine. She is smart and clever, and she’s been a good partner to you, assuming all is as she says it is. Are you happy?”
“That would be better without the caveat, but I’ll take it for now.”
We get back to our food, and while it is exquisite, the company is lacking. I had so hoped to impress June with Copeland’s and have a romantic supper together. Making it a family affair had not been on my radar. But it is nice to have the air cleared between us. I don’t have to worry about some gossip spilling the beans to Mom, and Dad knows where he stands with me on the matter.
All in all, it could be worse.
Worse doesn’t come along until dessert. June stifles her moans regarding the walnut crème brule, Mom is enjoying an after dinner drink, and Dad notes, “These are not Gretta’s cookies.”
“I know, right?” I tell him, having ordered the cookies myself. “It’s pretty close, but not the same thing.”
“Oh, he says it every time he orders them,” Mom says. “But he still orders them.”
“Because they are the closest I can get without sleeping with her again.”
I drop my cookie at the same time June’s spoon falls into her crème brule. Neither of us speaks, but I wish someone would because all I can see in my mind is my father in bed with a crone.
Mom clears her throat. Ever the diplomat, she says, “I’m sorry, Elliot. What did you say?” Her way of giving him a chance to change his choice of admissions.
But Dad doubles down. “Kitty, you knew about that. We’re all adults here. What is the big deal? It was before we were official.”
“So … we were dating at the time?”
“It was only a few weeks in our dating.”
I’m not sure if Mom is going to scratch his eyes out at the table or wait until they get home. Etiquette would tell her to wait, but I’ve never seen her face turn this particular shade of blood red.
But then, she laughs. Once at first, but it’s followed by more. And it’s not her party laugh, either. It’s a gut laugh. Has she finally snapped?
“Uh, Dad, maybe?—"
“It’s fine, Anderson,” Mom insists. “Elliot, I did not know you slept with Gretta Copeland—wait. Her husband was still alive then. You rascal!”
Dad laughs, too, and our wedding supper is taking a turn for the outright bizarre. I’m not sure what to think of any of it, but he says, “It’s not like he didn’t have his fun on the side, Kitty. Don’t judge.”
Her flirty smirk at my father is enough to give me nightmares. “I don’t throw stones at glass houses.”
“What—you mean you and Dwight?”
Mom smiles and nods. “Seems we have more in common than we thought.”
I did not need to know any of this. “It’s a good thing you two are rich because you’ll be paying a therapist for the rest of my life after this conversation.”
“You’re married now, dear,” Mom begins. “Grow up.”