Chapter 6: Preparations

by Uther Pendragon

Monday, the 14th of January, Candy Wharton was scheduled to pick out a bed with Eric, the bed which they would share for their married years. She would meet him at the county Building at 5:00 p.m. How should she dress? She would have to take the bus and then the EL, and it was slushy out. That would make her usual costume of jeans and sweater quite sensible. On the other hand, she was going to be shopping with her fiancé, shopping for a bed in a department store. Afterwards, Eric was almost certain to take her to a restaurant to eat. She wanted to look like a matron, not like a schoolgirl. Then, too, he was likely to take her back to his apartment for a little sex, and she wanted to look sexy as he stripped her.

The weather won. She put on sexy underwear, but covered that with pantyhose, jeans, a warm blouse and a warmer sweater. She wore tennis shoes and overshoes on her feet and a warm parka with a scarf and mittens.

She was at the elevators on the county side ten minutes before 5:00. Eric was a little late. Of course, he got off work at 5:00, and so did everybody else in the building. First, he had to get his own coat on, and then he had to wait for the elevators when they were most in demand. The elevators were on both sides of the hallway, and she was looking north when he got off an elevator to her south.

“Candy,” he said from behind her. He reached out and took her left hand. Then he remembered and took her right hand in his left. That let her display the ring. “You in the mood for walking?” he asked. “The car is half-way to Carson’s and parking down there is a pain in the ass.”

“Sure.” She did, however, put her mittens back on. Eric didn’t lead her outside, but rather through a series of underground passageways before they climbed up to the sidewalk for the last blocks. “I didn’t know those were down there.” The tunnels had mostly protected them from the wind, although none of them seemed to be heated.

“There are Chicagoans, and then there are Loop dwellers. I don’t think anybody designed that system. The individual buildings each do what they find convenient.” Yeah, the path hadn’t been all that direct.

“Look,” he said when they got to the store, “there is a general decision before we get to the specific decision. When we move to a new, larger place, are you going to want to redo the bedroom? Or are you content with what I have now? More, of course, as well as a larger bed, but starting from what I have now.” She was silent. She didn’t know what to say. “The reason I’m asking is that we either get something which will go with what I’ve got, or you start your decorating now. You buy a bed which will be the first piece of the new decor.” She hadn’t thought of this and was a little taken aback. As far as she was concerned, they were just getting a new bed, and only getting that because he had specifically asked her. “In case you don’t remember, I brought some Polaroids to show you what the room looks like now.” He took them out and handed them to her. The room looked fine. She wasn’t really into decorating.

“That’s fine. Let’s get something to go along with these.” And so they did. It was a fine-looking bed. He asked her if she could sleep on a firm mattress, and she said that would be fine. The bed would be delivered in a week.

“I thought,” he said in the car, “we’d go back to the foe place.” She didn’t know what he meant, and she waited for some more information. “The Vietnamese soup place.”

“That sounds fine. Have you really run out of restaurants?”

“Well, not in Evanston, and we really haven’t done the Loop yet. There are two Loop eating experiences, lunch and dinner, though both kinds of places are mostly open for both meals. In the rest of Chicago, I only know a few, and most of those aren’t on our way. Chinatown, for instance. But this place makes for a reasonably short detour from the direct way to your home. Besides, I thought you liked it. You finished your bowl of soup.” Now she remembered.

“I did like it. It was fine.”

“The other thing is that they are going to deliver the bed in a week. Do you think you could be there? Don’t lift anything but see if they’ll set the bed up. If they won’t, I will.”

“Sure.” She wasn’t certain at all; this was beyond her experience.

“Okay. Stupidly, I didn’t have keys made. I’ll give them to you Wednesday. By the way, do you have a driver’s license?”

“Sure. How is that ‘by the way’?” How was it related at all?

“I’ll have another set of car keys made at the same time. Your moving into my apartment is the only practical way we can do this, but I’m bound to treat it as if I’m the only one there. That’s not selfishness; it’s stupidity. Tell me when I’m doing that, okay?”

“Sure.” He had always been generous with her.

The soup was good, and he drove her home as he had implied he would. They had a sweet kiss in the car outside her door, and he watched from the car while she went in. Then he drove away.

Everything she had known about guys said that he would be eager to get her into bed. He didn’t seem to be. On the other hand, they had made love. He had been turned on by her before that, and he’d pushed for the marriage after that. Well, she knew less about Eric than she had thought she did. All she really knew was that he was a guy, and he didn’t behave like a guy did. She knew that he worked for the State’s Attorney, but she didn’t have the slightest idea what that meant.

Wednesday, the weather was awful, and the driving looked bad. Eric called.

“Look, can I pick you up earlier? I want to be sure about getting to the church before 6:45.”

“Sure.”

“Expect me about 5:45, but I’m not guaranteeing that, either. Dress for sloshing through snow, but don’t get your coat and stuff on until I get there.” She followed that advice. She wasn’t even sure that Eric could get his car down her street. The plows were all on the main streets. He arrived nearly on time, though the weather was so bad that he stopped in the street and rang her bell. He went back to the car and drove around the block again before she went out.

They got to the church. He waited until the pastor opened the door that led to the parlors, then he let her out and went to park. Really, though he was taking care of her, she was dressed more suitably for the weather than he was.

The pastor led her to his office and then went back to wait for Eric. The two men came in together.

“Well,” said Eric, “the two of us want to get married.”

“I thought that might be it. Candy was sporting an engagement ring. Let me get some objective data first.”

She had to spell ‘Candace,’ and Eric’s official title was ‘Assistant State’s Attorney.’ She gave her occupation as ‘college student’ which wouldn’t be true much longer if it was now. Classes for the new quarter were about to resume, and they’d resume without her. Eric had been born on March fifth, 1950, which made him almost exactly 10 1/2 years older than she was.

“Well, how long have you known each other?”

“Since early November,” she said

“That was a Wednesday, too,” Eric said. “It must be precisely ten weeks.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit precipitous?” When neither of them answered him, Rev. Lawrence went on: “And how did you meet?”

“We were both guests of Carolyn,” Eric said. That was factually true, but it didn’t really answer the question. She wanted to keep the rape secret, but would the marriage really be legitimate if they misled the officiating clergyman? And it didn’t look like they could mislead this man much longer.

“Look,” she said. “This whole conversation is confidential, right?”

“Certainly. If there is something particular you want me to keep quiet, if you’re not going to tell anybody about ‘Candace’ or you’re going to pretend that you are a 22-year-old college graduate, you should warn me. But I’m not going to tell any secrets I learn here or at any other counseling session, and nobody can make me.”

“That’s right,” said Eric, “privileged communication.”

“Okay,” she said. “This is what happened. I was raped. I went to Prof. Pierce. She said I should report it. Finally, she said that she knew a prosecutor I could report it to. I and that prosecutor, Eric, met in her house. After the twins were asleep and Mr. Pierce had gone to a meeting, I told him the story. He got me to tell it to a woman who heads rape prosecutions at his office. They decided that they couldn’t prosecute.

“Meanwhile, I discovered that I was pregnant. It had to be from the rape. I told Eric.”

Eric took up the story. “I had a nice, year-long plan for courting her. When I heard that she was pregnant, I saw that this year-long courtship wasn’t what she needed. I proposed immediately. She took a while, but she accepted. By the way, in terms of confidences you might not know are confidences, that we’ve only known each other for ten weeks is one. This is going to be my child. That it was conceived before we got married will be plain to everybody. That it was conceived before we even met is something I want known to as few people as possible.”

“Certainly. Might I ask, are you planning to have this wedding simply to give the baby your name and then end it?”

“No,” Eric said. “The timing is because of the baby. The marriage will be until death do us part.” The minister looked at her. She took a deep breath, but she had already decided.

“Until death do us part.”

“Well, you’ve taken the wind out of my sails. I thought that you were being precipitous, and -- really -- you are. But I certainly see why. A lot of my usual questions are also less to the point right now, but...”

He did have several questions, and they had to admit that they hadn’t discussed those matters. They hadn’t really discussed sex, but they had more reason to assume agreement than she was willing to share with a pastor, confidentiality guaranteed or not. They agreed to discuss four things with each other before the wedding: child-raising practices, budget, household chore assignments, and sexual relations. He agreed to perform the service. They scheduled it for Saturday, Feb. second.

“Want the reception here, too?”

“I think so,” said Eric. He looked at her, and she nodded.

“That means that it has to be dry. For the church and the parlors both, it’s $200. It’s $100 for me and $75 for Dennis over that. We pay the sexton for all cleaning, but...”

“Yeah,” said Eric. “I’ll slip Pete something. I think the rest is on Candy’s parents. If they don’t come through, tell me.”

“They’re not happy with your choices?”

“Well,” she said, “they’re not happy with the situation.”

“One last thing,” the pastor said, “ and I’ll let you go. We’ve changed the wording, changed it long ago. It’s not ‘til death us do part.’ It’s now ‘As long as we both shall live.’ Don’t worry about it. The words are my responsibility, and you both are clear what they mean, which is the important thing.”

“Another question entirely,” said Eric. “As long as we have you here and you know the background, Candy hasn’t been taking communion.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that.” So many, and he’d noticed her? “We have an open communion. I try to say that. You don’t have to belong here. You don’t have to belong anywhere. As long as you have been baptized and believe in Christ, you are welcome at our table, really at His table.”

“I just feel so dirty.”

“Because of the rape?”

“Yes.”

“Well that isn’t a theologically valid reason. My usual line is that communion is a medicine for sin; it isn’t a feast for the sinless. That doesn’t really apply to your case, because what makes you hesitate isn’t your own sin. It’s more what Jesus said, ‘It isn’t what goes into a man,’ (or, I might add, a woman) ‘but what comes out of a man which makes him unclean.’ Anyway, you are welcome whenever we have communion. You are not required.”

He led them to the door and followed them out. He turned the other way at the sidewalk to go to his own car.

“And, now,” Eric said as they drove away, “where do we eat? Have any old favorites? Any new suggestions?”

“Well, why don’t we get take-out and eat at your place again. We have things to settle.”

“I didn’t clean up.”

“Considering that I’ll be cleaning up after you in less than a month, I don’t think that will be too much of a shock.”

“Thai again? Pizza?”

“Pizza sounds good.” So they got a medium pizza and returned to his apartment.

“Where do we begin?” he asked.

“I begin before you do. Do you have that directory? I need to call Joan and Claire.” He dug the directory up. Both names were circled. She called Claire first.

“Claire? This is Candy. You know Eric and I are getting married.” She had, after all, seen the ring.

“Yeah. Congratulations to both of you.”

“Thanks. Would you be willing to be a bridesmaid? The wedding is at your church on Saturday, February second. I’m not planning to wear anything special, and the bridesmaids would wear their own clothes, too.”

“Why thank you, Candy. I’d be honored.”

“I’m the one who’s honored. You were there when I needed you, needed someone desperately.”

Joan wasn’t there, and she left a message to try her at home.

“Now,” said Eric, “let’s eat.” He had everything set up. They divided up the pizza, and then began to eat.

“Well,” she said, “we promised the pastor to talk about several things. Before we get to household chores, you should know one thing. I got my grades. I got a C in Economics and another in Phys Ed. I got a D in English and in Geology. I failed American History. I’m not going back.”

“Candy! That’s awful, but that was because of how you felt after the rape. You can do it.”

“I don’t think I could do it next quarter, fighting morning sickness. Anyway, I know that a modern marriage has equal sharing of household chores.” She hadn’t really fit into the crowd -- hadn’t found a crowd to fit in with -- at Circle. She had heard that much from the other girls, though. Her classmates at Steinmetz hadn’t been so interested in being modern. “Right now, though, I’m not going to be doing anything else. I should be able to keep house, even in a larger apartment.”

“I take out the garbage. You’re saying you do all the rest?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, things might change when there’s a baby.”

“Well I hope the baby, at least, is changed.” He smiled at that.

“Budget,” he said. “I’ve been putting away $200 a month out of my take-home. We’ll need some of that to pay for feeding you. We can save money on my parking downtown. I can get back and forth on the El. It stops very close to traffic court. The way I live, driving doesn’t cost much; it’s parking that eats you alive.”

“You really eat most of your meals out?”

“Not breakfast. More than half of those I eat here.”

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to stomach my cooking. That will increase our grocery bills, but less than you’re spending in restaurants.”

“I’m sure that anything you cook will taste delicious. And then, there’s your clothing bill.”

“That’s not all that great. You’d be surprised.” Men thought women spent a fortune on clothes. Despite Dad’s opinion, she didn’t.

“Have you thought of maternity clothes?” No, she hadn’t. “Look, I know this isn’t quite what he said. Let’s put it into three compartments. There’s house -- rent, utilities, phone. We can put car insurance in there, too. Then there’s my expenses. Then there’s your expenses. Why don’t we come together Sunday after church. I’ll bring my pay-stub, the housing costs, and my costs. You bring your costs. We’ll work out a tentative budget then. And, of course, the baby will blow that to smithereens. Carolyn used to claim that the twins could outgrow their clothes on the way home from buying them.”