Abit
Della beep-beep-beeped her horn and jumped out as soon as them Merc tires stopped turning. Millie and I flew down the steps to the store. We musta been a sight, all hugging and laughing and carrying on.
We had three days before our wedding day, and they were full up with chores. Alex brought some of his baking pans and set up in Della’s kitchen. I couldn’t imagine what all still needed doing; Mama had already filled her freezer and fridge with food she could make ahead. But she’d invited Alex over to the house for a meeting, and they musta put their heads together about who was baking what.
The next day, I went to the store to talk with Della about a few things before I headed upstairs to check on Alex. I felt a jolt of fear when I saw how pasty his complexion had turned. Then I had to laugh; it was just flour on his face. I brushed it off with a towel and started in on what I wanted to tell him.
Once again, I needed to explain why Nigel was my best man. I didn’t know why this kinda thing got my gut in such a knot, but I wanted Alex to know that he’d always been—and would likely always be—my best man, so to speak. “Della told me about you slipping and calling me your boy, and I want you to know you can call me that anytime you want.”
We both hemmed and hawed a while, clearing our throats and all. Finally, he changed the subject. “Abit, I know you don’t go in for all the wedding shenanigans like bachelor parties and such, but I’d like to take you to lunch today as a sort of pre-wedding special occasion.”
“I was just wondering what I’d have for my dinner.”
We headed up the Blue Ridge Parkway to the Inn at Jonas Mountain, like we’d done all those year ago. I recalled that being one of the best times in my life.
I drove this time. I was sorry Alex didn’t feel up to it, but I loved driving his new Merc. Well, new compared to mine. It was a little quieter (though that diesel engine still rattled), and the leather seats didn’t look like old catcher’s mitts. As we headed up the Parkway, we talked about this and that for a while. During a quiet spell, I started thinking how marriage was a marker of sorts. Life before and life after. Della and Alex were an important part of my life before. And I knew they’d always be in my life, at least I hoped so, but it would be different from then on. Even so, part of me wished Alex could just keep on buying me new clothes and taking me to Mystery Mountain, like he did when I was a kid.
At the restaurant, we lucked out and got a table next to one of the big plate glass windows. Alex sighed real big as he looked out at a view that drew thoughts away from anything else. When we got round to studying the menu, Alex couldn’t believe I remembered what we’d ordered that first time we came there. “You got steak, and I got a burger,” I said. “I think we should do the same.”
He laughed. “Now that you mention it, I do remember that evening, and I believe you only ordered that burger because it was the cheapest thing on the menu. And you kept staring at my steak.” Oh, man, he had me there; I could feel the red crawling up my neck. “So let’s both get a steak and a beer. You couldn’t do that last time. Besides, this isn’t just about the past—it’s also about our future together.”
That got me kinda choked up, and while I was kinda blinking, Alex said, “Hey, that’s okay. I cried before my wedding, too. And I cried after my divorce. So mind your ways so you don’t ever have to do that.”
Alex was good like that, making you feel comfortable with yourself. We went on to have a fine meal together. It even felt okay to ask about his health.
“Oh, I had a few follow-up treatments, which I hope worked.” I knew I had a worried look on my face. “You know, Abit, I’m at an age when I can accept I won’t live forever. I’ve spent my life trying to be in control, even thinking I was in control. And it’s an illusion. I’ve made my peace with that, for the most part. And besides, I’m going to be fine.”
I reached down and brought out something I’d snuck into the restaurant. I handed him a box, which I’d wrapped in some comics from the newspaper. “I’d planned to wrap it nicer, but our lunch together came up too fast,” I said. “It’s just something for when you come to Laurel Falls. I figured you don’t wear these much in D.C., but maybe you could use anothern for when you come to Laurel Falls. Remember how you bought me all those clothes that weren’t denim and flannel? It seemed fitting to turn the tables. And to be honest, in the hopes you can spend more time down here.”
He looked at the box like it was filled with gold, and I swear he was about to clutch it to his chest. Then he opened it and pulled out the flannel shirt. After a moment he said, “Thanks Abit. I love it. It’s just that I’m supposed to be buying the groom presents.”
“Yeah, but you always have. Besides, it’s only a shirt, and you’ve bought me whole wardrobes. I just wanted to say thanks for all that.”
Then he did something so unlike himself. He put his new shirt on over his other shirt, right there in the restaurant. He buttoned it up and with his hands tried to iron down the creases that went up and down it from being folded in the package. Finally, he patted his chest, like he was giving full approval of my choice. We laughed when people started looking funny at us, and we carried those good feelings all the way back down the mountain.