Chapter 5

Penelope’s dad funded a short vacation for his successful daughter. He sent her to Florida to see the sights and visit some family in the peninsular state. She had the time now. She was a nurse, but one so far without an actual job. She’d find one, and it would not be long in the doing either. She was certain of that, and so was I.

Me, I still had to work, I was still studying on my own. But now, it was mostly languages. I wanted to be able to speak five languages. No good reason; it just seemed like a worthy goal. English, Spanish and German were in the bag and so was Chinese now—partly because of a Chinese friend I’d met in HTS, Zhi Liang, and who also had been attending CCC with me. Language number five was another matter.

My world history teacher said I’d be wise to study one of the Near Eastern lingos. The wars going on in those countries, especially Iraq and in his opinion places like Afghanistan and Pakistan too were worth considering. I chose an Iraqi language, specifically Arabic.

And then my love got her a job. Mercy General, downtown Phoenix. I was thrilled. It was close enough to our homes that the commute, while a pain during peak hours, was not that big a deal when one got right down to it. And, if I was thrilled, Penelope was ecstatic! She would be making a deal more than me for sure, now. But that would change eventually. It was September 1986.

“Yes, I love it,” she said. The hospital itself is very well run, and the staff...” she said.

“The staff?” I said.

“Yes, I’ve already met a friend. She’s from out of state, Nebraska, and we hit it off right away. Had lunch together every day this week. Oh, and her name is Cherry Willis. You’ll be meeting her soon,” she said.

“Well good, invite her for dinner or something,” I said.

“Okay, I will,” she said. My suggestion seems to have really pleased her. That reality pleased me.

I had a really neat idea. I honestly figured it would prove my vaunted genius, well okay, self-vaunted. It would still count so long as it was a true thing, right?

In the now going on four years since I’d been working for Haines Market, I had gotten a couple of raises. I’d started at $12 hourly. I was at $15 now. No, not exactly a fortune in this era, but a living wage. I still used my mom’s Ford. I had no desire to buy a car until I had to. We lived close enough, 15 miles, to my school, ASU, and to the store, 2 miles, that I was able to arrange things so that I really didn’t need one.

“Saturday night,” said Pen.

“Huh?” I said.

“Cherry for dinner. At the Harrington, okay? I did raise my eyebrow a bit, but I could afford it. I’d be paying. I wouldn’t stand for anything else. I knew she’d argue with me about it since she made twice what I did, but I would not give in. I had something special planned that she knew not of. Oh yeah, this was going to be one big ass night for sure.

“Okay, but no arguing with me about who’s paying; it’ll be me. Got it,” I said, in my bossiest tone of voice. She did actually look a little irritated that she hadn’t at least gotten her side of the argument on the record.

“Okay, but the next one’s on me. I don’t care if it’s a pizza party in Rome—Italy. You got it?” she said.

“Yes, dear, I got it,” I said. She gave me a look, noting my wordology.

“Wow, nothing like this in Lincoln,” said Cherry.

“It’s the best place in Chandler,” I said. “We are doing our best to impress you.” Cherry laughed. Penelope smirked.

The night was going just as I hoped it would. The steaks finally came; and the wine, red Pinot, was first rate. Oh yes, this was going to be good—or, if I blew it, the worst night of my life. But I was betting on a positive turn of events.

We’d eaten and laughed and had a good time and drank a couple of glasses of vino; but now was the moment of truth. This had to go right or I would kill myself!

“Cherry, I’ve known you, for what, maybe two hours now. And you’ve known Pen, in real terms, for but a few weeks. But I have a question I just have to ask you?” I said. She gave me a look, decided I was probably not going to be out of line, and smiled.

“Okay?” she said.

I pulled something out of my pocket and set it on the table.

“Yes, well if I asked Penelope to marry me, do you think she’d say yes?” I said. The stunned looks I got from the two of them were almost worth it even if Pen turned me down.

“Huh?” said Cherry.

“Huh?” said Penelope.

“Please, Penelope, this is between me and Cherry,” I said. The look on Penelope’s face was sheer disbelief.

“Well, okay,” said Cherry. “I think she might. But you really should be on your knees asking her, not just talking to me.”

“You know you’re absolutely right,” I said. I got up, picked up the little box, went around the table to Pen, got down on my knees, and held forth the little gift.

“Penelope Davis, will you marry me? I love you more than words can say. And that in spite of what you did to me at our senior prom,” I said. And now I was smiling.

“Huh?” said Pen. “I mean, okay, yes,” she said. There was a chorus of laughter and cheers from nearby tables.

The next half hour was raucous and fun and happy and weird.

There was no doubt in the minds of the attendees that 2nd Baptist church in Scottsdale was the sight of the happiest wedding ever, at least that was my thinking.

My mom was happy. Mister Davis was happy. Cherry was maid of honor. Milton, our PE teacher bud from both HTS and CCC was best man.

Lance, had of recent vintage arrived back from Texas; he and I would be talking about his degreeless self. And he had taken over the task of recruiting some of our old friends from HTS to be groomsmen. All in all, maybe fifty folks were in attendance.

And then I was married and scared. And then we had our wedding night. And then I was no longer a virgin. It was December of 1986 and I was 21-years-old and so was my bride.

We did have a week long honeymoon. And yes, it had been a bit of a deal to get the both of us off the job for a week, especially since it was late December and the middle of the holiday season. It was a bit easier for me because of my seniority, but she was a new nurse, hence, well, hence...

We spent the whole week in Ensenada, Mexico, a very under rated tourist trap, and we loved it.

“How was it for you?” she said rolling over and gazing at her exhausted husband, me.

“Is that a serious question. I can’t tell you how horrible it feels to no longer be a freakin’ virgin,” I said, totally tongue in cheek. She giggled. But really, wife, it is without a doubt the best moment of my life.

“Wonderful,” she said.

“How was it for you. Was this beginner at all okay?” I said.