When I rushed out, after speedily doing what she had ordered me to do, I was surprised and disappointed that she was dressed! She looked good, but she would look better if she wasn’t dressed.
“Let’s go down for brunch in the lobby restaurant and then we can both get some air. The Family’s paying for it after all.”
After eating and exploring downtown White Plains, which amounted to walking up one side of Mamaroneck Avenue and down the other, we grabbed the Camry and just went for a drive, oohing and aahing at the huge spreads in Greenwich before turning back to spend the afternoon naked at the Ritz-Carlton.
We did not leave that suite for the balance of the first day of our marriage. We made love, I don’t know how many times, and then sat in the living room part of the suite pretty much as we usually did on Sundays in Tuckahoe, on either end of the sofa with our legs always and our hands occasionally touching and our eyes reading, Kerry with a book, me with a tablet. Although that we were each wearing a robe was a little different.
After a nice dinner in the top-floor restaurant, yet more great sex, and wonderfully deep sleeps, we rousted ourselves on the late side on Monday morning, both of us playing hooky for the morning—our honeymoon would have to wait—and after checking out of the hotel and driving home we took a late train into the city, Kerry for school, me for work, where I was awash in congratulations and more than a few hugs, including a long one from Marc.
A New Normal
On Tuesday, September 25, Kerry and I entered the first door of the third car of the eight-thirteen in Tuckahoe, turned left, and sat in the third row on the right side of the car. The woman who sat on the aisle, Jane Elliot, wished us both “good morning” and we did the same to her.
As the train slowed into 125th Street, we said “excuse me” to Jane Elliot, who rose. Kerry said “thank you” and so did I. And as we passed, Jane Elliot whispered, “Congratulations again. I am so happy for you both.”
And Kerry got off to go to school and I continued to Grand Central to work.
Prelude
The girls sounded drunk. Eileen stood in the salon’s fitting room, picking up bits and pieces of a chatty-Cathy convention. From the main room came an unending stream from her daughter, her recently-acquired daughter-in-law, and her soon-to-be stepdaughter. Eileen would have been pleased had her two girls just gotten along with Tommy’s daughter, but now she sometimes thought they might be triplets separated-at-birth.
Much as Eileen enjoyed hearing the three, her mind drifted far from them as she saw herself in the mirrors. The process was far enough along and today was for final adjustments, her next appearance at the salon simply to make sure everything fit perfectly. The wedding was three weeks away.
She saw herself in the mirrors. She was no child, far from it as she neared fifty, but she felt a child-like wonder in what—who—was looking back. It was not a figment that would vanish at midnight. It was her. It was the her that only needed the sculptor’s hand to form her from the marble she had long been. More than one sculptor in her case. Kerry and Suzanne and Mary but mostly Tommy made her bloom.
Eileen was abruptly shaken out of her reverie by Diane, the dressmaker, who asked her to turn to the right. “I’ve seen that look often enough,” Diane smiled, “but if I don’t take care of this we’ll be here all day.”
Eileen grinned and turned, and five minutes later she silenced las tres amigas, their giggles replaced by tears as the older woman turned. After a torrent of “oh my god!”s and “you look so beautiful!”s, Eileen returned to the fitting room and after carefully, very carefully, undressing, she was back in her street clothes and the four headed up Madison for lunch at a small restaurant in the seventies.
Stormy Weather
The third time was not a charm. The weather was wonderful when Mary and Betty were married in June and gorgeous for Kerry and Suzanne in September. Now, in mid-November, it was cold and the rain was coming down in sheets. Suzanne was glad that the parkway was not flooded as she drove their new car on the way to Chappaqua. Her wife was next to her and her Mother, who proved a whiz at wedding planning, was in back, still checking and re-checking notes.
The three arrived at the Chappaqua Spread and raced through the rain under umbrellas to the door, where Andi greeted them. The three were wet, Suzanne getting the worst of it, and took off and shook their raincoats before following Andi, who had shouted “They’re here” upstairs, into the kitchen.
“How is she, Doc?” It was Kerry’s question, but the others wanted the answer too.
“Oh my God. She’s, I’m sure there’s some expression that cowboys use, she’s…she’s like a cat on a hot tin roof.”
“I’d better get up there,” Kerry said as she took her coffee with her. “Do you think she wants one?” to which Andi responded, “Kerry, she’s had more than enough and, frankly, with that dress we need to think of lessening her need to pee.”
With that, Kerry was gone. She found her Mom sitting on the bed, a large towel wrapped around her and a smaller one circled her hair.
“Are you okay, Mom?”