16
The night I agreed that Chloe could marry Thomas was certainly a significant moment in my life. That one, I felt when it hit. For a second, I’m alone at Chloe’s window, in the present, my fingers on her fingerprints on the cold pane of glass.
And then I tumble back in time again.
As I leave Chloe in her bed that night and go down the hall to my room, I recognize that, now that the decision has been made, I have two choices. I can be happy about Chloe’s impending marriage and the joy it will bring her, or I can be unhappy about all the bad things I’m afraid might happen. I can try to help my daughter make this transition and support her and her husband in every way I can, or I can hang back and wait to be proven right.
What if I’m not right? What if Thomas can give Chloe the happiness I will never, ever be able to give her? No matter how desperately I want to? I owe it to Chloe. And somewhere, in the deep recesses of my guilt-ridden heart, I feel like I owe it to the child I didn’t have.
I wanted that first baby so badly. In my heart. But my head told me it was the wrong time. Even though Randall and I had talked about marriage, he was still married. And I was still a student. It didn’t make sense to have a baby at that point in my life. We can have another, when the time is right, Randall had promised. He’d been so sweet, so attentive. I thought he was thinking of me. Only later did I realize it had been all about him. Because it was always all about him. He hadn’t wanted his career or his image to be negatively affected. He didn’t want physical proof of what a shit he was.
Even with all that logic behind me, the decision to have the abortion had been hard. But Randall had gone with me . . . and he’d promised me, as I walked into the procedure room, that our time would come. That we’d marry and I’d have a baby in my arms someday.
At least that part had been true. We did have a baby. We had our Chloe. But my arms never stopped aching for the first child.
As I climb into bed, not sure if the tears I’m fighting are of sadness or joy, I know that I’ll continue to be Chloe’s advocate, just as I’ve been since the day she was born. I’m her mother, and I love her more than anyone else in the world loves her. How can I not do everything I can for her until the day I die?
So I meet with Margaret and Danny the next day. The wedding date is set for December. I want to wait until spring. I think they should date longer, but Chloe wants to get married Wednesday. This Wednesday. Margaret is the one who suggests the compromise as we talk on the sidewalk when I pick Chloe up after church.
Margaret suggests that a December wedding would be beautiful in St. Mark’s sanctuary. With all the LoGs present. In my head, I saw glimpses of a garden party wedding in our backyard, but Chloe’s excitement is infectious and I get excited, too. As we stand there on the sidewalk in front of the church, she and Thomas hold hands and jump up and down and call each other honey and baby.
The second week of September, after my new classes are in full swing, I invite the Eldens to our house to make wedding plans. Margaret and Thomas will be here at seven. Danny is working the evening shift and can’t make it.
I had asked Randall if he’d like to come; his response was typical. He couldn’t possibly. He’s all for Chloe getting married, as long as he doesn’t have to be involved. I learn in our brief, awkward phone conversation that he and Kelly have officially separated and he’s moving into a town house. I don’t ask if there’s another woman involved; I just don’t care.
Jin wouldn’t miss the wedding planning session for the world and arrives twenty minutes before Thomas and Margaret are expected. She’s wearing a tie-dye sundress she made herself in a class this summer, and is carrying a homemade cheesecake. Chloe and I’ve made cookies, but we didn’t have a lot of time this evening, so they’re slice-and-bake. At least the kitchen smells good.
“I didn’t have an afternoon class,” Jin explains, carrying the cheesecake, with homemade blueberry topping, into my kitchen. “You don’t mind?”
I laugh. “Your cheesecake? Believe me, I don’t mind.” I take glasses out of the cupboard. I’ve made decaf iced tea, and Chloe has made lemonade from a frozen mix. I keep checking the clock, oddly nervous.
“Thomas is coming,” Chloe announces from her perch on a bar stool at the kitchen counter. She’s busy arranging the cookies on a plate. “We’re getting married, me and him.”
“So I’ve heard,” Jin says, her voice laced with amusement. “Congratulations, Chlo-bo.”
“You can come.” Chloe takes a bite of a cookie, and puts it back on the serving plate.
I reach across the counter, remove the cookie from the plate, and set it on the counter.
“Not everybody can come,” Chloe continues. “Not the lady that works at Food Lion. But you can come.”
“Huan and I are very excited.” Jin grabs dessert plates. “I’ve already put it on the calendar.” She looks at me. “Kitchen table or living room?”
“I was thinking kitchen table. To make it easy to write. To take notes.” I’ve already put two legal pads and two pens there. “Unless you think the living room is a better idea?”
“Kitchen is fine. It’s warm. It’s inviting.”
“It’s warm, all right.” I fan myself with a kitchen towel. “The AC’s on, but it still seems hot in here.”
Jin carries the dessert plates to the table. “It’s fine. You’re just nervous. Why are you nervous?”
“People get nervous when they get married.” Chloe giggles. “Because they get to kiss when the guy up front says I do. Me and Thomas are gonna kiss in front of everybody! I’m getting a new dress. But not with kittens on it.” She slides off the stool, taking a cookie with her. She leaves the one with the bite out of it on the counter. “Thomas is coming. I’m gonna wait for Thomas.” She walks out of the kitchen, munching on her cookie. “He always comes to the door.”
“No kitten bridal gown?”
I cut my eyes at Jin. “Please tell me there’s no such thing. I told her no one makes wedding gowns with kittens on the skirt.”
Jin laughs. Then she glances in the direction Chloe’s just gone. We can hear her singing in the living room. “Under the sea! Down where it’s better and wetter . . .” She’s got the lyrics wrong and the tempo is off, but it’s from The Little Mermaid.
“So, you decide how you’re going to handle the whole S-E-X thing?” Jin spells out the word.
I pour myself some iced tea. I wish I were pouring bourbon. “With Margaret? No. I’m not even sure I should.”
“I meant with Chloe.”
I groan and begin to fill the other glasses with ice at the dispenser in the refrigerator door. “Sort of. A little. I need to take Chloe to her gynecologist. She’s due for a Pap smear anyway. And we need to talk about birth control.”
“So you think they’ll have sex?”
“If you saw the way the two of them were lip-locked at the zoo, you wouldn’t be asking that question.”
Jin leans on the counter and whispers, “You think they know how?”
“I guess that’s what I need to talk to her about, but from what I’ve read on the Internet, even mentally challenged people . . .” I struggle to find the right words. “Figure it out.”
Jin smiles.
“It’s not funny.” I hold one of the cold glasses to my forehead.
“I didn’t say it was. I think it’s sweet, actually.”
“Mom! They’re here!” Chloe screams from the front of the house. “They’re here! Mom!”
They’re early. Margaret is always early. I look at Jin. “I can’t do this.”
“You can do it. You’ll be fine.”
* * *
And I am fine. We go over the initial details that night at my kitchen table. Thomas and Chloe will be married at St. Mark’s at three in the afternoon on December fourteenth. No bridesmaids or groomsmen; it will be hard enough to get just the two of them to stand at the altar long enough for the ceremony. Any friends they would ask are most likely more mentally challenged than they are. We’re keeping it simple.
We divide up the jobs because, obviously, the bride and groom won’t be making any arrangements. Jin volunteers to do all the things she knows I care about, but won’t be good at: the invitations, the flowers, the decorations.
A reception will follow in the church hall. I thought a small, cozy reception here at our house might be better, but Margaret insists on finger foods, cake, and an apple juice toast at the church. She says she and Danny had a church reception, as did both her girls, and Thomas will have one, too. So I agree to the church reception, but offer to invite family and close friends back to my house for a light supper afterward.
Family. I don’t have a lot of family: an aunt in Boston, an uncle on the West Coast, a couple of cousins. And my father . . . and his wife. I put off calling my dad for weeks after the date with the church is set. Finally, at Jin’s insistence, Chloe and I call him the first Friday in October. The next day, Chloe, Jin, and I are planning on going wedding gown shopping in Philadelphia at one of those warehouse bridal stores. Jin says I can’t buy my daughter a wedding gown without having told my father she’s getting married.
Chloe says she wants to tell Grandpa, so I dial and hand her the phone. Gloria answers. She talks so loudly, I can hear her.
“Hello?”
“Hello,” Chloe says, only the word is a little garbled. “Grandpa?”
“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong number.”
I take the phone. “No, this is Alicia, Gloria. Chloe’s calling. She wants to talk to Dad.”
We’re sitting side by side on the couch. Chloe leans over. “I want to talk to Grandpa! This is Chloe. About the wedding.”
“Wedding?” Gloria says.
I’m now holding the phone between Chloe’s ear and mine so we can both hear.
“Oh my goodness, Alicia! Congratulations. Arnie and I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”
How would they know? Dad and I talk four or five times a year: Christmas, Father’s Day, some birthdays, but not all of them. Gloria sends cards. Dad sends checks. There’s not much talking. The talking that does take place isn’t as personal as the conversations I have with Chloe’s favorite food-sample lady at Costco.
“No, no, not me, Gloria.” I look at Chloe. “You want to tell Grandma Gloria?”
Grandma Gloria. It was a concession. Mostly for my dad’s sake. Randall was all for it, too, of course. He was entirely logical about the whole thing. Chloe was born after my mother was already dead. She never knew my mother. Gloria is Chloe’s grandmother. The only one she’s got: Randall’s mother had passed away before I met him. He never knew his father.
“Want to tell me? Tell me what?”
I can hear the uneasiness in Gloria’s voice.
“Grandpa?” Chloe hollers into the phone. “Is Grandpa at the phone? This is Chloe Mae Richards-Monroe.” It’s a mouthful and her speech isn’t all that clear.
It pains me that Chloe can’t say her own name. She must be nervous. I know I am. “Gloria, can we talk to Dad?” I say. “Chloe has a surprise.”
It takes my father a long time to get to the phone. Too long. I can’t hear anything going on because Gloria’s put us on hold or something.
“Is Grandpa there?” Chloe asks me after a minute or two. “Grandpa?”
I’m beginning to wonder if Gloria’s disconnected us (accidentally or intentionally), and then the phone finally clicks.
“Hello?” my dad says. He sounds old. He’ll be seventy-nine at Christmas. He is old. For some reason I feel a lump rise in my throat. I need to call him more often. I shouldn’t wait for him to call me. To call us. I need to let my grudges go. It’s not his fault Mom died. It’s not his fault Chloe has Down syndrome and he’s never known how to deal with that. It is his fault that he married my mother’s hospice nurse four months after she died, but it’s time for me to stop rehashing it. “Grandpa!” Chloe grabs the phone. “Me and Thomas, we’re getting married.” Of course she does the Elmer Fudd thing so it comes out more like mah-wied. “You can come!” she tells him excitedly.
There’s a pause when my dad doesn’t respond. Luckily, Chloe doesn’t notice.
“I’m getting a dress. Me and Mom and Jin. At the store. No kittens. No Thomas the Train. It’s called Thomas the Tank Engine but we don’t say all of that.”
I wonder how much of that conversation my dad got. He’s hard of hearing, of course. Who isn’t at his age?
Chloe waits. She might be mentally challenged, but she knows enough to know he should say something. A grandfather should say something when his only grandchild tells him she’s getting married.
“Dad,” I say finally. I shift the phone closer to my mouth. “Did you hear what Chloe said? She’s getting married.”
“Married?” he says into the phone. Then, “Gloria, did she say Chloe’s getting married? I can’t understand them. Connection must be bad.”
I look at Chloe. She’s so excited. And obviously disappointed that her grandfather isn’t.
“Dad?”
There’s another pause and then I hear Gloria again. “Sorry, I think his hearing aid needs a new battery. So, Chloe’s getting married?”
“Yes.” I find myself smiling. It’s a sad smile, but it’s a smile. “To a very nice young man she met at her daycare. His name is Thomas, and they’re very much in love.” I sound like the proud mama. “You’ll be getting an invitation in the mail soon.” Jin’s hand-writing them, of course. She teaches calligraphy. “We just wanted . . . Chloe wanted to tell you the good news.”
“Well, that is good news,” Gloria says. Her words say one thing; her tone says something else entirely. “Arnie says that’s great news. Your grandpa says that’s great news, Chloe,” she says loudly into the phone.
I can’t tell if the volume is for my dad’s sake or Chloe’s. Gloria’s always been uncomfortable around Chloe, even when she was small. Which I always found interesting because Gloria was a nurse. Not that Chloe has an illness, but . . . I let that thought drift away.
Chloe’s still smiling, but it’s not her real smile.
“Well,” I say quickly. “We just wanted to call and tell you the good news. I’m sure you have things to do.”
“Dishes,” Gloria says. “We still have dishes to dry. And our show’s coming on.”
“Talk to you soon. Chloe, tell Grandma Gloria and Grandpa good-bye.” I hold the phone out to her.
“Good-bye!” Chloe shouts.
I hang up. “So?” I ask her, sounding more enthusiastic than I feel. “What do you want to do now? You want to look at pictures of wedding gowns in the magazines we bought?”
She presses her lips together. “Can Thomas come over?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Too late tonight. We’re going to get an early start tomorrow. It’s going to be a busy day.”
She thinks for a minute. Then her face lights up. “Can we watch Pocahontas?”
I attempt to hide my disappointment. I have several bride magazines on the coffee table. I recorded a couple of episodes of the TV show Say Yes to the Dress. I thought it might be fun to watch together.
Chloe sticks out her lower lip. “If Thomas can’t come, I want to watch Pocahontas. He hates Pocahontas and he says when we get married, no more Pocahontas.” She shakes her finger in my face, imitating him. “We’re never watching it again.”
Margaret and I have talked about Thomas moving in with us after the wedding. It’s been decided. I guess I’d better buy them their own TV for their room.
* * *
The wedding dress shopping is fun. Chloe loses her patience pretty early in the day and I’m thankful for Jin’s presence, but all in all the outing goes well. She/we choose a gorgeous, white A-line organza and chantilly lace gown with pearl accents. It has an empire waist, long sleeves, and a Queen Anne neckline, all as flattering on Chloe’s short, round body as any dress could be. She says it’s itchy, but I promise to buy her a slip so the lace won’t touch the skin on her belly. The dress is five hundred dollars, a discontinued style, very reasonable, according to Jin, who has helped me through the day as much as she helped Chloe. We leave the dress for alterations and make an appointment to come back for it in November.
Our next big event/hurdle in the wedding plans is to get Chloe to the gynecologist. She had her first physical exam years ago and it was pretty traumatic. But she’s so much more mature now than she was then. Surely it will go better.
Chloe knows she’s going to the doctor because she has to before she gets married. She doesn’t really know which doctor; it’s easier on Chloe if she doesn’t know so she doesn’t have time to get too upset. I wait until we pull away from the curb at our house before I broach the subject.
“We’re going to see Dr. Ellington. Do you remember him?”
She’s buckled into the front seat. She’s brought a book along; it’s called Puppies and Kittens Along the Way. It’s one of those board books with actual photographs and very little text. The book shows all the places a person can encounter a cat or a dog in a day. It’s her new favorite book. Margaret bought it for her at the church yard sale.
“A cat in the bed. I have a cat in my bed. My cat,” Chloe says.
“Dr. Ellington is the doctor that makes sure it’s okay for you to get married . . . and kiss Thomas,” I add.
She perks up when she hears the kissing Thomas part. She looks at me. “When we get married we can kiss whenever we want.” There’s defiance in her tone.
“In the privacy of your bedroom. That’s right.” I slow for a yellow traffic light. “Now, Chloe, Dr. Ellington has to examine your private parts. It’s okay, because he’s a doctor. And I’ll be there with you. And there’s a nurse.” I just keep talking as if this is an everyday occurrence. “I don’t know if you remember, but he examined you a couple of years ago.”
“Do I have to get naked?”
So, apparently she does remember. “Yes, but there’s a gown . . . like a dress that you can wear.”
“I don’t like dresses.” She turns the page in her book. “I got a wedding dress. I like my wedding dress because I’m gonna marry Thomas in my wedding dress.”
We’re sitting at the red light. Chloe mentioned the word naked. This might be as close to the subject of S-E-X that Chloe’s going to get on her own. I look at her and then the light. It turns green.
“Listen, hon, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. About being married.” I press my lips together, wondering why this is so hard. I read up on how to talk to a mentally challenged person about sex. Same rules apply as talking to your kids. Keep it simple and honest. Use the proper anatomical words.
“You know, when a man and a woman get married, they sleep together in the same bed.”
“Thomas is going to sleep in my bed.” She points at her book. “A puppy in a box. Thomas is going to get a puppy when we get married.”
“No puppy!” is on the end of my tongue, but I don’t want to get off track. “Chloe . . . do you know about husbands and wives . . . kissing and touching each other in bed?”
She looks at me, then at the book. “Kissing.” She purses her lips and makes a smacking sound.
“And touching,” I say. “Once you’re married, it’s okay for Thomas to touch you. When you have your clothes off. And you can touch him.”
She giggles and says something under her breath. It sounds like peany.
Against my will, my face gets hot. “Do you understand what I’m talking about?”
She stares at her book, but I can tell she’s not really looking at it now. She nods over and over again.
“Married people make love, Chloe. It’s a very special—”
“Don’t say it!” She covers her ears and looks away. Her face is red, too, like mine, and she’s giggling.
I take a deep breath and forge forward. It’s only a ten-minute ride to the doctor’s office. I don’t have time to dawdle. “You know that men have different private parts. That women have vaginas and men have—”
“Peanies!” she blurts out. The puppies and kittens book falls to the floor. She’s looking straight ahead. I can’t tell if she’s going to burst into laughter or tears.
I wonder if I should pull over to finish the conversation. But I don’t want this to be a big deal. I don’t want this talk to be traumatic. Sex is part of life. It can be a good part. Now that I’ve gotten used to the whole idea, I want Chloe to have the opportunity to experience the same pleasure any other wife would experience.
“Penises,” I say. “Men have penises.” I can’t help having a quick look at her. “How do you know about penises, Chloe?” Now I’m genuinely curious.
She giggles. “Thomas.”
My eyes get big. “Thomas showed you his penis?”
More giggling. And, thankfully, a shake of her head. “He told me,” she whispers. “But don’t tell his mom. His mom says don’t touch your peany, but he does.” She pressed her finger to her lips. “A secret.”
It takes me a moment to process that tidbit. I clear my throat. I wish I’d grabbed a water bottle on the way out the door. “What else did he tell you about his penis?”
She looks at me then back at the road. “Where it goes. When we’re married.” She points between her legs. And giggles again.
I’m caught between wanting to demand to know exactly what Thomas told my little girl, word for word . . . and being fascinated that they would have a conversation like that. I’m actually proud that my daughter could have a conversation like that . . . anytime.
“So . . . you understand?” I ask. “About sex. It’s called sex.”
She covers her face with her hands. “Privacy.” She giggles. “Me and Thomas, we’re going to have privacy in my bedroom. Me and Thomas. Because he’s my honey.” She peeks at me, obviously tickled with the whole idea. “And you have to knock. On my door.” She points accusingly.
I signal and pull into the parking lot of the medical center where Dr. Ellington’s office is located. I slide into a parking space. Chloe gathers her library bag, containing more books, the kitten and puppy book, and a DVD box she’s brought with her.
I get out of the car. I’m still not entirely sure Chloe understands the exact logistics of intercourse. But then I decide, as I walk around the back of the car, What the hell? She and Thomas will be married. They can do it however they want.