“Don’t apologize—when I got here and no one was home I knew something or other was up, and I figured you all would be hungry when you got back from wherever it was, so I cancelled our reservations and went to the store. You hungry?”
“Starving,”
“Good.”
“Really, though,” I said, “Wasn’t this supposed to be some special night?”
He leaned close to me and raised his eyebrows, “It still is.”
“I love you,” I said. But I was so tired and my joints were hurting.
“Do you?” he said. And he paused, but then got down on one knee. I was ridiculously high above him on the stool and I watched him fish in his pockets, and I knew what it meant, that kneel and that fumbling in his pocket, and I didn’t want it to happen, I wanted to delay. I was afraid I would fall off my stool my knees hurt so bad.
He found the small blue velvet box and opened it. “Mandy, you are my heart, my darling, and my companion. Will you be my wife?”
I looked down at him, wearing my apron, and I started to laugh—at first from some kind of nervousness and then from joy. I closed my eyes but the laughter got even more out of control and turned the edge over into crying, until I was just sitting up high on that stool hysterically sobbing. Part of it was my knees and my elbows, which felt like they were on fire. But it was also the money, and Thora, and John. No one could want me. No one could really want me. He hugged my knees and that made me cry harder.
“Is it time to go sit on the couch?” he asked.
“What about--?” I pointed at all the pots simmering, the vegetables half cut up on the counter.
“Screw it,” he said and flipped all the burners off, “We’ll get burgers.”
We went and sat on the couch in the living room. He put his arm around me and we both sat, looking at the window where we were reflected yellowly. Just a tiny yellow man and a tiny yellow woman sitting on a couch.
“Starving,”
“Good.”
“Really, though,” I said, “Wasn’t this supposed to be some special night?”
He leaned close to me and raised his eyebrows, “It still is.”
“I love you,” I said. But I was so tired and my joints were hurting.
“Do you?” he said. And he paused, but then got down on one knee. I was ridiculously high above him on the stool and I watched him fish in his pockets, and I knew what it meant, that kneel and that fumbling in his pocket, and I didn’t want it to happen, I wanted to delay. I was afraid I would fall off my stool my knees hurt so bad.
He found the small blue velvet box and opened it. “Mandy, you are my heart, my darling, and my companion. Will you be my wife?”
I looked down at him, wearing my apron, and I started to laugh—at first from some kind of nervousness and then from joy. I closed my eyes but the laughter got even more out of control and turned the edge over into crying, until I was just sitting up high on that stool hysterically sobbing. Part of it was my knees and my elbows, which felt like they were on fire. But it was also the money, and Thora, and John. No one could want me. No one could really want me. He hugged my knees and that made me cry harder.
“Is it time to go sit on the couch?” he asked.
“What about--?” I pointed at all the pots simmering, the vegetables half cut up on the counter.
“Screw it,” he said and flipped all the burners off, “We’ll get burgers.”
We went and sat on the couch in the living room. He put his arm around me and we both sat, looking at the window where we were reflected yellowly. Just a tiny yellow man and a tiny yellow woman sitting on a couch.
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