“I have everything I need right up here,” Rose would say, pointing to her lovely head, which got a more intense shade of auburn every year.
“Won’t Thanksgiving be fine,” Matt said. “One big, happy, Hallmark family.”
I grinned. “Whatever you want.”
“Well, good, now’s my chance. I think we should get married.”
I took a long breath. “Are you on something?” I asked.
“I was on two things. That apparently was the first problem. Now. I’m on nothing except some sleep medicine, I guess. But my head is clear. I just can’t get down on my knees yet.”
I thought of a conversation I’d heard in the last week or so between two young female clerks at Northgate’s supermarket. I was next in line with my cart full of pastas and produce, unable to tune out the checker and the bagger, chatting about their love lives as they processed the items of the woman in front of me.
“Do you think Aaron’s going to propose?” the dark-haired bagger asked, not losing her rhythm. Three large cans on the bottom, a head of lettuce on top. Bananas on the bottom, grapes on top, a baguette stuck down the side.
The blond checker, sporting inch-long fingernails with sparkly decals, shrugged her shoulders. “I wish I knew. I’d like to, you know, plan.”
“Maybe he’s waiting for Christmas, you know, to give you a ring?”
The checker shook her head. “Uh-uh. It’ll be too late by then. I’m sure Billy will beat him to it. And I’ll be all, Yes, yes, yes, Billy.” They both laughed, seemingly at Aaron’s misfortune.
I’d felt I’d been listening not only to a foreign language, but to another species, with different wiring from mine. I imagined the various brands of orange juice in Aisle 4 waiting on the shelf for a customer to choose one or the other, sighing with disappointment when Mrs. Kaplan passed them by, but acquiescing when selected by Mrs. Renaldo.
But I had no right to be disturbed by the scene, I thought—hadn’t my engagement to Al Gravese been somewhat the same? He’d teased me about a special present coming up, and a certain question he wanted to ask me, and how I shouldn’t have anything monogrammed for a while until he gave me this present. I shuddered at the silliness of it, dismayed that an important decision like the marriage of two people would be so controlled by one of them.
Matt tugged at my arm. “Are you with me here, Gloria? Jean’s ready to pick out wedding favors. How about those little packages of Jordan almonds? I’ve always liked those.”
I laughed. “We can have Jordan almonds anytime, and without the white netting and ribbon,” I said. But I was surprisingly in tune with marrying Matt. It doesn’t have to be like the first time, I told myself. Not all engagements end in the death of one party. Nor do all hospital stays have unhappy endings. Nor all cancers. “As long as we can have chocolate wedding cake, I’m there.”
“Ahhh,” Matt said. “Terrific. Think how nice it will be not to have to lie to the doctors and nurses.”
I kissed him. “You’re so romantic.”
“You wouldn’t stand for romance.” He paused. “Gloria, will you do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Gennaro?” His voice was raised in pitch, a clue to his teasing.
Fortunately, Matt already knew how I felt about Mrs. Anybody. “Do you want my speech again about how women abandon their names and allow themselves to disappear into a man’s family name, and then wonder why they don’t get paid as much?”
Matt laughed, a weak laugh that caused me great pain. It seemed a long time since I’d seen him physically strong.
“See, I knew that’s how you’d respond to romance. Listen, I’ll probably be asleep again in a few minutes. But the next time I’m awake, have your calendar ready so we can pick a date, okay?”
“Matt …” I paused, partly because his eyes had already started to close, partly because I didn’t know what to say. I love you? We’d said it often enough. Thank you? Not quite appropriate.
“Sorry, I’m all doped up. I feel like my tongue is coated with something thick.” Ith coded … is what it sounded like. “See you tomorrow, Gloria?”
I stared at his body as he fell into a sleep, as if I were qualified to evaluate his health.
I kissed him, and left the hospital, engaged to be married.
I called Rose from my cell phone on my way home. “I’ve been in these clothes all day,” I told her, involuntarily sniffing the sleeve of my merino wool jacket. “Do you think we can move Girls’ Night Out to my house? I’d like to be in my bathrobe as soon as possible.”