The First Ninety Days Ch. 02

"No, more like the other way around," said Jon. "Shotgun is when the parents force the kids to marry. We did it so they couldn'tstop us from marrying. So, maybe like a gunshot wedding."

And yes, Caitlyn found out, theydid make female condoms. Jon said that they were basically Ziploc bags, and about as comfortable and conducive to sexual enjoyment. There were also "diaphragms," latex caps that fit over her cervix (My what?) and needed to be supplemented with "spermicidal foam," which in itself was perfectly acceptable method—but both needed to be applied ahead of time, as much as half an hour in advance, and were not supposed to be left in for long. Caitlyn, who had had sex exactly once in her life, could already see the impracticalities of such a method—completely aside from the difficulty of somehow managing to reach all the way inside herself like that. She wondered if there were people who actually had to schedule sex into their day planners. That was the only way she could think of to have the equipment installed in a timely and appropriate fashion.

There was also a dizzying and spectacular array of male condoms. Caitlyn had had no idea that there were so many. Were there that many kinds of penises in the world? Or were there other differences? Why did a condom need to be "ribbed for her pleasure"? How would ribs add to her pleasure? Not that there was anything un-pleasurable about ribs, especially barbequed ones, but she didn't think that was what the condom makers were thinking of. There were condoms advertised for small penises, some for large; there were latex ones and sheepskin ones (which Jon said were actually made of intestines, of all things); there were extra-thin ones "for enhanced sensations" (Why? What about sex needs to be enhanced?) and the ribbed-for-her-pleasure ones; there were evenflavored ones, colored like candy and covered in lubrication that tasted (supposedly) like fruit. It wasinsane. She was pleased when Jon selected a red box of plain, no-nonsense Trojans—pleased, but a little curious as well. She wondered if they made chocolate-flavored condoms.

All Jon said was, "That's the first time I ever stood in the condom aisle without feeling self-conscious." She wondered what he meant by that.

It was nearly four in the afternoon when they got back to Jon's parents' house. They unpacked Caitlyn's things—in itself an adventure, because Jon's closet was fairly full as well; he ended up folding up about half his things and putting them in a bureau for cold storage—and cached their new birth control methods to the appropriate places (Caitlyn to her morning ablutions, Jon to the nightstand). Caitlyn felt remarkably self-conscious about the blister pack in her little satchel of toiletry gear. Why should she? She was married, she was being responsible (or trying to be). Where was the shame in that? Or maybe it was the implication that she enjoyed sex. Did proper, responsible young women use birth control?

Jon's computer opened the Internet at a touch. One-bedroom apartments were running anywhere from $500 to $1,000 a month in the greater area, and they marked down the few that weren't currently occupied; it was, after all, Tuesday, December 11th. There were used cars available from $10,000 upward, but Jon said he wouldn't trust anything cheaper than $15,000. Craigslist was their touchstone, for these things and all others. There were a surprising amount of musical gigs available, both one-shot and permanent, and Caitlyn bookmarked some of the most promising ones. Her piano talents were a bit rusty, but she thought she could get them up to speed, and there was always work for a good harpist. Maybe there was hope for this slapdash marriage after all.

Finally Caitlyn closed the browser and glanced at the clock: not long before 5:00. Jon, who had been writing a public announcement e-mail of their nuptials on his laptop, had finished long ago. "Well," she said. "What should we do now?"

"Hmm?" Jon said.

"It's too early for dinner, it's too early for sleep. What should we do?"

"I dunno, what do you wanna do?"

"I should probably do some homework," she said, remembering now a half-written paper that she had neglected to copy off the computer at her parents' house. "And I've got music to practice, though without my harp that'll be a little difficult."

"You could play air harp."

She laughed. "Yeah right."

"We could... I dunno, we could watch a movie, we could read, we could... I mean, what did we normally do when we had time together?"

"We watched movies," she said. "Or we playedThe Sims. But mostly, it was just an excuse for us to cuddle."

He laughed. "That's very true." He walked over and drew her into his arms. "So, my lovely wife. What would you like to pretend to do while we cuddle?"

"Hmm." His shoulder made a wonderful pillow. "I like it when you say that."

They ended up forgoing the excuse entirely and simply stretching out fully-clothed on the bed. He lay on his back, and she sprawled out across him, protected and content. His chest was warm and firm, but even more than that she could hear and feel the beating of his heart. She loved that.

"So," he said. "What did you think of... What we did last night?"

"Umm," she said. "It was... It was good."

"...Oh," he said. She had a hunch he had noticed the non-committal tone. "Did you like it?"

The thing was, the truth was far too embarrassing. "...Yes," she mumbled.

"Sweetie, there's nothing wrong with that. Your body's meant to enjoy it. That's what it's designed for. There's no crime in enjoying what God intended you to enjoy."

"Yes, but... It still feels... Wrong. Like, we aren't... Like it's wrong for us to be doing... What we did."

"Why? Baby, we're married. In the sight of God and man, we were married. And in the sight of Uncle Sam, too. Unless you're going to tell me that Reverend Pendleton is actually from some obscure denomination that ordains people via e-mail."

"No, it's not that, it's—"

"Is Caitlyn not your real name? Did you sign with a pseudonym?"

Anger and desperation burst out of her in equal measure. "Jon, stop it!"

He fell silent, surprised.

"Why did we get married? Because it wasconvenient. That's like people who get married to gain citizenship in America. It's not legally binding, it's wrong. It's a sin. How are we any better? Jon, if you were to tell me that having sex with me wasn't a motivation in marrying me in such a rush, you'd be lying, and you know it. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't desperate to get out my mother's house.That's why we got married, not because we love each other. We were means to an end. That's a sin. That'swrong. We..." She was almost crying now. "We..."

"Caitlyn," he said—quietly, but something in his voice still moved her to stillness.

"What you say is true. But it would also be a lie to say we married each othersolely out of convenience. Do you love me? Do you want to spend your life with me? Do you want to make children with me, and raise them with me? Do you want to grow old with me?" He didn't wait for her answer (Yes). "Because that's what you've said, for over a year, and I believe you meant it. I know I meant it when I said those things to you. Caitlyn, wedo love each other. And nothing can change that.

"Now, that's not to say that other things haven't crept in, because, yes, they have. Therewas convenience involved. It was the best solution to a bad situation—not necessarily a good solution, but the best one. Well, baby, that's just how lifeworks.No one's motives are perfectly pure. Weall want selfish things. And God knows that. And He takes that into account when weighing human actions, because He created us selfish, and He knows that the only thing we can do about that is try to be selfish in a way that makes us selfless.

"Look. We're married now. I could be a cruel, insensitive asshole to you, that'stechnically within my rights as a husband. I would probably notice very quickly, however, that you wouldn't be very nice tome. If I tried being nice to you, you'd probably lighten up as well. Thus, it benefitsme to be nice to be nice to you.

"But even more than that, it pleases me to be nice to you. I like seeing you happy, I like seeing you smiling—Iespecially like seeing you naked and sighing in pleasure, but that's besides the point." She felt her face reddening. "Being nice to you makes you nice to me, yes, but that's ultimately a bonus. It would please me to be nice to you even if it didn't make you treat me any differently. Am I being selfish? Absolutely. But am I being selfish in a way that benefits other people? Again, absolutely.

"Selfishness is a weapon like any other: its effects depends on who wields it, and why. I mean, look at your mother, praying for Nathan's life to fall apart so he's forced to move back home. Sure, it would makeher happy to have her son back, but what about whatNathaniel wants? She's ignoring that and focusing solely on her own needs.That's selfishness used in a bad way."

Caitlyn's brow hardened at the thought. "I still can't believe she did that.Praying to God for Nathan to screw up?"

"Yeah. If God has the sense He gave a goat, he'll just chuck those in the Junk Mail folder."

"Yeah..."

"But, Caitlyn..." His hand touched her chin, nudging her face up to his. His blue eyes were serious. "I love you. Nothing can change that. I've wanted to marry you for as long as we've dated. We've been planning our wedding for seven months on and off. We were going to end up here anyway; now we're just a little bit ahead of schedule. The underlying facts—that I love you, and want to be with you for the rest of my life—have not, and never have, changed."

She kissed him. "You always know how to cheer me up."

They spent a long time on that bed, kissing, just experiencing each other's presence. Sometimes she felt like she forgot each day just how much she loved being in his arms, next to his body, but she didn't mind; she got to discover it anew every time. His arms and back were so strong, like a wall to ward off harm and evil. She felt safe in his arms—safe, and sheltered, embraced but never confined. He fit her perfectly, just the way she wanted to be fit.

The only awkward moment came when he placed his hand on her breast. She was worried that he would try to initiate sex again, which she didn't want—the door was open, at the very least, and the last thing they might need was to be walked in on by his parents or sister—and she said, "No, Jon, not now," and she thought he might be disappointed but if so he gave no sign of it, simply let his hand rest there for a moment and then took it away to stroke her face. She loved him for that too.

As she'd thought they might, Jon's parents came up at about 6:00 and invited them to dinner. It would be their treat, they said, as part of the rather disjointed wedding festivities. So Mr. and Mrs. Stanford Sr. treated Mr. and Mrs. Stanford Jr., plus Melinda, to dinner at Chadley's, a very posh steak restaurant with pretensions of gourmet-dom, according to Melinda: "You can tell by the prices on the menu: there's no decimal places, just block dollars." As far as Caitlyn was concerned, they were more than pretensions: the food was delicious, if occasionally unorthodox—who would have thought that lime would enhance the flavor of corn?, but it did.

Caitlyn found herself contrasting it to dinners with her own family. Once, years ago, there had been this sort of relaxation, this sort of camaraderie, this sort of banter; but then Nathan had gone off to college, a year early like Caitlyn herself had, and things had started to change as his world-view expanded from eleven years of home-schooling to the entire wide world that compresses itself into a university. By the time Caitlyn started her undergraduate career, the atmosphere around the Delaney table was always frosty with disapproval. When Nathan left, things only got worse.

There was none of that here. Jon had told her stories about his family and the utter misery that had once reigned there, as his own mother tried to force her children into molds that did not fit them in the slightest, but Jon had allied with Melinda and his own father Glenn to finally convince her that trying to hammer her square children into round pegs was only causing damage. A midnight ambulance ride for Melinda, who collapsed from malnutrition due to anorexia, was instrumental in winning the case. Now Regina Stanford was a hands-off mother—too hands-off, in Jon's estimation, because Melinda had dropped out of high school, never gone to college, and at twenty-two had still not been gainfully employed. Clearly, Caitlyn supposed, it was possible to go too far in the other direction. She thought she'd really rather have a hands-off mother, though, than one who was probably at this very moment praying for her daughter's marriage to end in messy divorce.

Glenn and Regina Stanford had essentially renounced their parenthood, promoting their children directly to adult status. It led to a disturbing lack of guidance, but also a strong bond of camaraderie. The members of the Stanford family were equal, with no one having any more authority over the others (or at least much more). The parents and children, no longer tied in place by power structure, had become friends.

Caitlyn wondered at this strange family mechanic. Was it the kind of thing she would like to create for her children? She and Jon had been raised in similar environments, and had vowed, both separately and together, not to make the mistakes their parents had. The Stanfords were going to raise their children differently than they themselves had been raised. But what different way were they going to choose?That's a question we haven't quite answered. We know what we're not going to do—but, in a multiple-choice test like this one, that isn't necessarily saying much.

Suddenly a thought speared through her. "It's Tuesday. Jon, it's Tuesday. I have Bible study at eight!"

Jon's eyes popped open. "What time is it." He flipped open his cellphone. "Shit!"

"I take it we have to leave," said Mr. Stanford, looking both bemused and amused.

"I can drive you," said Jon, "but you're going to be at least half an hour late even if we leave this instant."

"Actually..." said Caitlyn, hesitating on the instant of a new realization. "...I'd kinda like it if you would come with me."

Jon looked at her, blinking.

She wasn't sure what had driven her to say that, but she had. She wanted him to come with her. Partially she wanted to walk in there with him on her arm and rings on their fingers and see how people reacted, but it was more than that. Jon wasn't a lapsed Christian, but he was close, and she didn't think that should be allowed to stand. She had been brought up Christian, and she believed in the Message. For her, Bible study was an opportunity to learn about one of the few things that, in the end, really mattered. She knew Jon didn't agree, but if this marriage was going to affect his faith, she wanted to be in a positive way—and as soon as possible.

"Please," said Caitlyn. "I... I think it would be a good idea."

Jon looked at her for a moment more, and then shrugged and turned to his dad. "We do have to leave."

"Then let's leave," said Mr. Stanford, signaling for the check.

By driving like a man possessed, Jon was able to shave it down to 27 minutes late. To her chagrin, only three of the other eight group members were actually in attendance: old Mrs. Lippmann, and the group leaders, siblings Gerald Mormont and Dacey Klein. "It's the Christmas season," Gerald said. "Everyone's so busy this time of year. There's always a sharp drop-off in attendance once Thanksgiving rolls around."

"I see you've brought a new accessory today," said Dacey with a bright grin. She, like Caitlyn, was a jewelry enthusiast, and the two had spent plenty of time comparing notes on earrings, necklaces, men and various other accoutrements no woman should go without. They all knew Jon—he'd been attending church with her for most of their relationship—but this was one of the first times he'd chosen to come to one of these study sessions. "It's good to see you, Jon."

"I didn't get a chance to tell you on Sunday, Caitlyn," said Mrs. Lippmann, "but your playing was beautiful. I have always enjoyed your music at the services."

"So what's with you two," Gerald asked congenially. "Were you late at dinner or something?"

"Yeah, we... We lost track of the time," said Jon.

"That seems to happen to me a lot," said Dacey. "I'll be at work plugging away at the latest financial reports, and then suddenly I get a phone call from Stephen: 'Mom, you were supposed to pick me up an hour ago!' I'm thinking I've got to get an alarm clock for my office!" She laughed.

"Jon, I'm not sure how much Caitlyn tells you about what she tellsus," Gerald said, "but, speaking solely as an outsider, I wanted you to know that we were all very impressed with the way you handled the confrontation between Caitlyn and her mother three weeks ago."

"Yes," said Mrs. Lippmann, "very impressed."

"Obviously, Caitlyn wasn't able to give us a word-for-word description of what was said," Gerald continued, "but we felt you handled it with a great deal of maturity and wisdom."

Jon's eyebrows were in his hair. "Umm. Thank you." It had been an eruption after Mrs. Delaney had caught them kissing in a quiet corner of the church gardens. Nothing untoward had been going on—clothes on, hands in the right places, just two people sharing a quick kiss because if they didn't now, they couldn't at all today—but Mrs. Delaney had read them the riot act. When Caitlyn had told them about the 'discussion' that followed (she used the term loosely), the other group members had pointed out how well Jon had deflected any of Mrs. Delaney's attempts to attack him, without launching an attack of his own or even raising his voice. Mom had been essentially talked out of the entire argument, which had only pissed her off more.

"Well," said Gerald. "Since we're all here—as many of us as are likely to show up, that is—why don't we get started."

Caitlyn passed Jon a Bible as they sat down. He seemed uncomfortable with it, which didn't seem a good sign to her.

They ended up near Dacey Klein, who looked over and said, "Ooh, Jon, I like your ring. Is that new?"

Jon looked very uncomfortable now. "Err, yeah," he said. "Fairly recent."

Dacey's eyes automatically drifted to Caitlyn's hands. "Did Caitlyn get it for... Oh my." At the sound of her voice, everyone looked up.

Caitlyn fidgeted. Now that the moment was on her, she felt panic more than anything else.Didn't I want this? Am I really so fickle as that?

"Heaven forefend," said Mrs. Lippmann, who was evidently possessed of alarming eyesight. "Now even the children are getting married."

"Are gettingwhat!" said Gerald.

"Look at her," Dacey said. "Check your own finger. It's right there."

"When didthis happen," Gerald asked.

"And why weren'twe invited!" Dacey asked. She jumped up and gulped Caitlyn into a hug. "Congratulations!"

"Well, um," said Caitlyn, trying without success to wiggle free. "It, uh." The simple fact was, she wasn't sure she should tell them the truth. Orcould tell them the truth. There was much she didn't say about her home life, and she was not by nature a self-disclosing sort of person. "It's a long story," she finished lamely.