Fourth Comings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [88]
“My friends who didn’t go to college got drafted,” Dad continued. “Guys I grew up with, guys I played ball with, guys I drank beer with.” He raised another bottle and popped off the top. “They went off to the jungle and never came back. Or came back changed men.” He took another gulp of beer. “I married your mother right after graduation because I loved her, and because I still could.”
I was touched by this surprising romanticism, especially in light of his earlier protestations. Then he dropped the bombshell.
“And also because she was pregnant.”
“What?” I asked, clearly having misheard my father.
“Your mother was three months along with Bethany.”
“MOM WAS KNOCKED UP BEFORE YOU GOT MARRIED?!”
“Could you say that a bit louder?” he asked, shaking out his ear. “I’m not sure the neighbors on the other side of the lagoon heard you….”
I quickly did the math. My parents were married in June, Bethany was born in December. Duuuuh.
“Why didn’t I figure this out?” I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Does Bethany know?”
“Of course Bethany knows.” My dad literally slapped his knee in laughter. “Bethany has known since she was seven or eight.”
“She figured it out at seven?”
“Or eight,” my dad corrected. “She was really into weddings, more than you ever were. Bethany was always throwing weddings for her dolls and stuffed animals. She couldn’t talk enough about weddings. She bombarded your mother with questions. What kind of dress did she wear? What kind of flowers did she have? What kind of cake? One afternoon she asked your mother if she had been a June bride, and your mother, worn down by her questioning and not really thinking about the repercussions, told her the truth. Bethany knew her own birthday, of course, and kind of figured it out from there with a little help from your grandmother Gladdie, who, as you know, never showed much discretion.”
I was still shaking my head in amazement. “I just can’t believe I never put it together….”
“All these years your mother and I have been waiting for you to do the math. But you never did….”
He’s right. The truth is, I’d never put it together because I’d never really cared. I have always been startlingly uncurious about my parents’ courtship. I just didn’t want to know. I wasn’t beyond snooping and prying and eavesdropping, but my parents’ secrets didn’t seem worth unearthing. Bethany made an infinitely more fascinating subject during the post-Jerry Years, when invading her privacy was my raison d’être. I pored over her photo albums, read her journals, analyzed her yearbook inscriptions. But my parents? Ack.
My dad said nothing, just looked out onto the water. I knew that if I didn’t say something fast, this conversation would end as spontaneously as it had begun. And I didn’t want it to end.
“Where did you get married again?” I asked. The “again” was misleading, as it implied that I had asked this once before, but only temporarily forgotten. But I had never once asked about my parents’ wedding day. I knew next to nothing about their nuptials. In fact, I’d only seen one photo from that day, a black-and-white candid of the bride and groom kissing. Only the faintest wisp of lace can be seen around my mother’s neck, and a headband that I had always assumed anchored a veil, though no such accessory could actually be seen in the frame.
“Why so many questions tonight?” Dad asked. “What, one trip to the infusion room and you think I’m gonna die on you or something?”
“No,” I said. (Maybe, I thought.)
“We got married in a civil service at city hall,” he replied. “Only our parents were in attendance. My own mother thought we were too young to get married, you know. She thought we needed to go out and live life, date other people. She used to go on and on about how we should take advantage of the ‘free love’ philosophy of the era….”
I can totally hear Gladdie saying this. Can’t you? Hadn’t she