Chapter 4 A Mannequin in the Window #2
Everyone took a long sip of air, together like a choir, a sound perhaps indicating that none of them wanted to step deeper into the darkness.
Finally, Jed spoke. “Don’t beat yourself up, sis. You couldn’t have stopped me.”
“That’s bullshit,” Marshall said. “You’ve been listening to her your whole life.”
Otis felt like he was growing up in fast-forward motion, seeing a side of life he’d not imagined.
“What now, Rebecca?” Marshall asked. “Are you home? Are you not home? Just here to give a sweet hug and then be on your way with this new friend of yours?”
“He’s more than a friend.”
Otis seized up, a mannequin in a window. He managed to maneuver his eyeballs to find Rebecca, and he sent an onslaught of telepathy her way, saying, Please bail me out! I can’t move my arms or legs or mouth! Even if I could speak right now, I’d bugger it up. You started this, Bec. Please finish it.
“This is the man I am going to marry.”
Bloody hell.
The previous silence had nothing on this new one. There were no church bells this time, no intervention from God.
Still trapped in his malfunctioning body, Otis thought he might let loose his bladder. He could feel everyone in the room staring—no, boring holes into him.
No surprise, Marshall was the first to speak.
“Lord, have mercy.” Otis wondered whether a prayer would follow, but a string of curse words—all together unrepeatable—sprang from this man like bullets.
Marshall eventually gathered himself and found a direction.
Apparently he’d forgotten Otis was in the room.
“This is a joke, Rebecca,” he said. “You’re not seriously telling us right now that you went and met some Brit who looks like a dimwit and acts like one, too, and now you’re going to marry him.”
“Where’s the ring?” Olivia asked, suddenly coming to life like someone had pulled a string behind her.
“It fell off,” Rebecca admitted. “But you should have seen it, Mom. He made it from a strip of birch tree bark. It fell off on the way back from New York. He was such a romantic, the way he asked—”
“This is rich,” Marshall interrupted. “He proposed to you in a sea of hippies with a stick. I can’t wait to see how long this marriage will last.”
Something flew through the air. A pillow. It struck Marshall in the head. “What the ...?”
Jed had slung it at him, and his grin stretched even wider. He either had a big bag of marijuana or a bag of painkillers tucked somewhere in that chair.
“Lighten up, man,” Jed told his father.
Marshall wasn’t in a playful mood. “Don’t you call me man .”
“Your daughter just told you she’s getting married, and you’re crapping all over her.”
“She’s not getting married.”
“Ever?” Jed asked. “What is she, your prisoner? Give me a break. Sis, I don’t blame you for leaving, not one flipping iota.”
Jed was making light of the situation, but it would take more than his jokes to ease the tension. Rebecca’s eyes glowed with anger and embarrassment. Her mother had fully checked out, her eyes hazy. And Marshall looked like he might explode, as if there were a lit fuse attached to his rear end.
“Jed, shut your mouth. Rebecca, you’re not getting married. Not anytime soon, at least.”
Otis was starting to get angry himself. “Sir, I’m sitting right here. Why don’t you speak to me directly?”
Marshall finally acknowledged his existence. “What’s your name again? How old are you? Fourteen?”
Thank God he wasn’t still sixteen. That fact would have made it worse. “I’m seventeen. My name’s Otis Pennington Till.”
“That’s a mouthful of bullshit. Tell me, Otis Pennington Till,” Marshall said, making a brutally awful attempt at a British accent, “how do you plan on taking care of my daughter? You still in high school? Not that I’m taking you or this bit of news seriously, but why not tell me anyway?
Who is this man that wants to marry my daughter? ”
“Leave him alone,” Rebecca insisted.
“Let him answer,” Jed said, stirring the pot.
Otis might have been timid at times, and he was no stranger to turning to stone, but when the roadkill was poked the right way, he proved to be more than alive.
“I’m working hard to find out what it is that I’m going to do with the rest of my life. I’m a freshman at Berkeley, a journalism major, and—”
“Well, at least you’re not an idiot.”
Otis didn’t flinch. “You don’t need to question whether I’ll take care of your daughter.”
“You’re being serious right now? Both of you?” He whipped his head to Rebecca. “You’re not marrying him.”
“We’re not here asking for permission,” Rebecca said.
“We’re informing you that we’re getting married.
This isn’t a childish decision. We met for a reason, and we’re meant to be together.
Once you get to know him, if you can open your ashtray of a heart to let him in, you’ll see that I’m the luckiest girl in the world. ”
As angry as Otis was, he felt a big wave of warmth come over him.
Marshall directed his fury at his wife. “Olivia, you have nothing to say? You’re not actually okay with this, are you?”
“What are you going to do, Marshall? Forbid it? Let her go again? She’s eighteen. She can do whatever she likes. For the record, you asked me to marry you when we were eighteen.”
That shut Marshall up for a second.
“And look at you now!” Jed said, swiping the air with his fist.
Marshall gathered his troops and finally came up with a retort. “We didn’t get married for ten more years. Why not go ahead and get a divorce, because we know it won’t last? All you youngsters think love is this giddy wave of fun. It’s not.”
“We didn’t notice,” Jed said.
Marshall looked like he was about to stand up and wring Jed’s neck like a rooster that wouldn’t shut up. “Jed, I will roll you out the front door if you continue your antics.”
“Come on and do it, Marshall. Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve kicked me out of the house.”
“Do not call me Marshall.”
“But Dad seems so sweet and innocent. It doesn’t quite capture your Hitler-esque leadership.”
Marshall’s jaw tightened. “Otis, why don’t you hit the road? We need some alone time.”
Otis looked at Bec, who nodded her assent, then said, “Why don’t you take the car and go find a bite to eat?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Otis stood and touched her shoulder for all to see, then kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back in two hours, okay?”
She patted his hand. “It’ll be fine here.”
No one said another word as he left. A part of him—the brave shred that dwelled within him—didn’t want to leave her.
He’d just found out that her father had pushed her.
He should have left with a threat. You touch her again and I’ll rip your bloody head off.
Alas, Otis didn’t have it in him, and instead, he let shame chase him out the door.