Chapter 34

Mom offered us a refill of iced tea, then ushered us across the hallway into the family room.

James briefly looked into the den to check on the kids; he’d parked them in front of a cartoon which seemed to be entertaining them just fine. Abby was old enough to begin to enjoy the story, Ben more just liking the visual stimulation and the pretty colors. From the grin on his face, I guessed they hadn’t even noticed his intrusion.

I chose a big easy chair for us both to sit in; I’d hardly gotten Mel comfortably settled on my lap before Mom started in on the questions.

Well, there was enough time for Katelyn to decide she liked what she was seeing, and to climb up on her husband. And give me a knowing grin. Seemed like Public Displays of Affection were going to be a thing now I wasn’t going to be left out. That was more than okay; I reckoned Mel and I could more than hold our own in a kissing and hugging contest against an old married couple like my sister and brother-in-law.

Instead, it was ‘let’s all tease Mike’ time again.

Mom pitched a real doozy first up. “So, Mel, did you have any idea he was intending to propose this week?”

My intended placed my hands more closely around her slender waist before laughingly responding, “No, Diane, no idea at all; he kept it completely quiet. I was almost thinking I’d have to ask HIM ... To tell the truth, my guess is that he didn’t know for sure he was actually gonna do it that day until it actually happened. Am I right, husband-to-be?”

I grinned. “Guilty as charged. I guess I was waiting for the right opportunity; I’d worked out I’d better do the romantic bit if I was hoping to hang on to you.”

“Romantic? At the breakfast table?”

I did that shrug thing, to try to claim it wasn’t my fault things had turned out that way. Not that my folks could see it, not with Mel on my lap. “It kinda seemed the right time; no reason to hold off asking you any longer.”

“Sure you didn’t want me awake enough to say ‘no!’?”

“You’re not rethinking your answer?”

She turned herself around and kissed me on the forehead. “Nope. I’ve gotten used to having you around to feed the dogs, clean up the poop in the yard, bring me flowers, pay the pizza delivery girl, empty the dishwasher. All that kinda stuff where a man can be so useful around the house. Don’t you agree, Katelyn, Diane?”

Dad chortled at this point; Mel was encouraged and continued, “You know, as Mike and I were getting closer, I visualized the moment he’d make his move. I’d been hoping for a big proposal in a top Beverly Hills restaurant, twenty-karat diamond hidden in a gold-leaf-covered chocolate raspberry truffle dessert, at least six Hollywood ‘A’-listers at surrounding tables, jealously capturing the moment on their social media feeds as a fashionable string quartet serenaded us. The reality? Breakfast dishes still on the table, all in a rush to get to work, and I had to drive myself to the jewelry store during my lunch hour! No limo service, not even an Uber. Guess he didn’t get the memo from Richard Gere about spending an obscenely huge amount of money.”

I easily joined in the good-humored laughter at the ‘Pretty Woman’ reference; I could readily picture a situation like that. Heck, with a little research, I could probably give you a couple of names of showbiz people who’d staged a very public betrothal exactly that way. And, although the actress in Mel would have just loved to stage it as a fictional scene, I was certain that no way would she have wanted it to happen to her in real life. It was too personal – our planned marriage was because we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives, not merely some fake chat show magnet dreamed up by a cocaine-fueled movie studio PR. What she’d described was the very worst of Tinsel Town self-promotion. And the glossy magazines lapped it up, the same way they would the multi-million-dollar ‘society’ wedding and the inevitable public divorce a few years – or maybe just months – later. And rinse and repeat.

She heaved a huge, dramatic, despairing sigh for the benefit of her audience. She absolutely is an actress. “So totally disappointing, I know, but sometimes a girl has to accept the male of the species is sadly lacking in some respects, however hard his mother and sister tried to bring him up right.”

Then she beamed. “But, with your help, I’m sure we can ensure the wedding day makes up for the lackluster proposal. What do you think, Katelyn? Should I apply to be on ‘Say Yes To The Dress’? Wouldn’t that be a truly great start?”

(I’m not a huge fan of reality TV, though I have a grudging respect for the people who have grasped such an opportunity with both hands and gotten themselves on the ‘celeb’ gravy train. Have the Kardashians made their first billion dollars yet? Can’t be long. I may not like them, but they’re milking their franchise for every last red cent, and you have to admire that level of single-mindedness. ‘Say Yes To The Dress’ has all the vital elements – glamor, rivalry, family dramas, envy, bitchiness, conspicuous consumption, laughter, tears – to be almost compelling viewing, although part of me wants to scream at the screen every time some bride announces a wedding dress budget greater than the amount I paid for my car.)

Katelyn, who freely admits she was exposed to far too much daytime TV for her own good while the children were too young for kindergarten, agreed with Mel enthusiastically. That was to be expected. What was a little upsetting was Dad’s insistence that he join them on the couch so he could boast to his buddies he was going to be on a reality show.

Was he being serious? I couldn’t quite tell. At least I’d be able to plead superstition about not seeing the wedding dress until the ceremony, to avoid being part of it myself.

And I had to trot that excuse out almost immediately as Mom suggested we make it a family outing. She didn’t have an answer; how could she? She’d made me promise to keep James well away from the house the morning of their wedding; he didn’t even catch a glimpse of her until Dad brought her down the church aisle to be joined together.

Let me explain for a moment why I wasn’t getting at all uptight about being picked on. Three reasons – nurturing Mel’s relationship with my folks, getting my own family connection back to where it had been when I saw much more of them, and keeping myself grounded.

Mel was undoubtedly relishing teasing me in front of an appreciative audience. I have to admit I had a huge smile on my face at my feisty girlfriend – no, my future wife – joking so easily with my family so soon after meeting them. It could only be a good thing. No formality, no uncomfortable silences, nobody trying to be something they weren’t, just immediate acceptance. Being effectively estranged from her own kin, it was more than healthy for her to develop a good rapport with mine, and I’d do anything I could to help it along, including being the butt of her sense of humor, if that’s what it took. The only downside? I had no doubt Mom and Katelyn would most likely side with her than me in any future discussion ... Well, if that was the price to be paid, it seemed good value. So, I wasn’t at all minding taking the lumps that Mel, Mom and Katelyn were dishing out, with the back-up team of Dad and James also landing a few good blows on my self-importance by finding it amusing.

Their easy teasing made me feel more accepted, more part of the family, than I had done for quite a while. When you leave the nest, to go work the other side of the country, you instantly lose the close everyday contact, the immediate connection of being in the center of things. None of us were doing it deliberately, but every time I did come home, I was that little bit more of a stranger. For the past few years, I hadn’t been around ‘home’ when important things were happening, lifetime memories were being made. For example, I hadn’t been able to visit Katelyn and her newborns in hospital, hadn’t seen my niece and nephew’s first steps, or heard their first words. I wasn’t on the ‘inside’ any longer. In some ways, I was lucky I still had a reserved bedroom to call my own – they might easily have turned it into a nursery.

And, when you’ve got a hugely responsible job like mine, it can be way too easy to become Mr. Serious and Sensible, or, even worse, Mr. Big Shot Whose Shit Doesn’t Stink. If the stuff coming across your desk is a mix of serious issues affecting peoples’ livelihoods and life chances, and irritating petty bureaucratic minutiae, it’s sometimes hard to keep ‘normal’ things in perspective. Had a boss once who had become a grammar nazi – he just had to find a fault in your report format or composition – it was his way of reminding everyone who was the boss. I don’t ever want to become like that.

In some ways I was the final adjudicator of morals and ethics for HR, which meant I had to be squeaky clean myself – hence the no dating rule for anyone with even a remote work connection. That’s a dangerous road which can lead to putting yourself on a pedestal. Up to now, I’d relied on Helga for keeping my feet firmly on the floor; her husband makes so much money she doesn’t actually need the job, which is one heck of an advantage in being able to tell the boss exactly how it is. I didn’t even have that kind of truthful no-holds-barred feedback from my superiors.

Speaking truth unto power.

It’s much more important than it seems. For evidence, just look at the messes our politicians get us into with all their paid lackeys and yes-men. And lobbyists. Never forget the toxic sludge that is ‘K’ Street. You reckon our men and women would be stuck at the wrong end of the third world failed-state shithole free-fire areas that are Afghanistan, Iraq, and Somalia without ‘K’ Street? When the people in charge are being fed a diet of 100% bullshit, hobnobbing only with billionaires and celebrities, and have absolutely no idea how the ordinary American is doing, they’re hardly gonna be looking out for the little guy, are they?

No, my job is nothing near like that level – wouldn’t ever want it to be – but I still don’t want to be unquestionably believing my own propaganda. My shit stinks just like everybody else’s does, and occasionally I need to be reminded of that fact.

Mel was currently making a near-perfect job of doing just that.

My attempt to get back in the game was admittedly a little weak.

“Mel, are you absolutely sure you want to marry me? You aren’t waiting for someone else, who is the whole enchilada, can afford a Rodeo Drive wedding dress and holding the ceremony at the Four Seasons?”

“You mean, do I see you as a starter husband, someone I can learn on until Mr. Right finally appears?...”

Her deliberate pause was almost long enough to be worrisome, but she answered her own question with a huge smile, “No, Mike, I want you as my forever husband. You’ve proposed, you’ve bought the ring, you’ve brought me to meet your folks. No backing out of it now!”