The First Ninety Days Ch. 07

"I wasn't surewhere I was going. I graduated with my degree and it was like, 'Well, I'm not in school for the first time in sixteen years, now what?' I didn't know who I was without going to class. But then... I met your daughter. And I knew who I was. I saw that I had a chance to, you know, build for myself the kind of life I'd always wanted. And so I started working towards that, and I have been ever since."

"When was the first time you brought up the idea of us getting married, anyway?" Caitlyn asked him.

"I dunno, wasn't it... What, like, some time around our one-month anniversary?"

"Yeah, something like that. And a month later we weren't even saying 'if we get married' anymore. It was just 'when, when, when.'"

"But I don't think we were expecting it to happenthis fast."

"No, of course not. But we also weren't expecting... We were hoping we could win you over, Mom. Let time and exposure change your mind. But it didn't quite work, obviously, and when you blew up so badly, we just... We said, 'Forget it, let's just get married and send a message she can't ignore.' We knew you wouldn't approve. But... I guess that didn't matter to us very much."

"Well, Idon't approve," said Mrs. Delaney. Jon and Caitlyn didn't say anything. "And I think it's time to put this farce at an end. You're too young, you don't know what you want, you haveno idea what you're getting into—"

"Have you heard a word we've said?" Caitlyn asked, more aghast than anything else.

"You'll come home with us," said Mrs. Delaney. "We'll talk to Pastor Pendleton about getting the marriage annulled—"

"He won't," said Jon, "he supports us in this. We've already talked to him."

"Then we'll speak toanother priest," said Mrs. Delaney, "one's as good as another. And one day, when you're ready, Caitlyn, we'll marry you to a nice boy, one who—"

"—Isn't Jon, so I'm not interested," said Caitlyn.

"You willshut your mouth, young lady," Mrs. Delaney thundered.

"Mom, I think it's really cheeky of you to come into someone else's household as a guest and then start throwing orders around," Caitlyn said, letting anger color her voice for the first time.

Her mother stood, her chair tumbling back. She was almost as tall as Jon. "I didn't come here to eat your bad food and listen to your silly excuses. I didn't come here to be insulted. I came here to get my girl back."

"You can't have her," Caitlyn retorted.

"I'm not leaving without her," Mrs. Delaney said.

"Then you might be here for a long time, because I'm not leaving either."

"Caitlyn Claire Delaney, you are a willful, disobedient child! I will not—"

"NO I'M NOT, MOTHER!!" Caitlyn yelled, on her feet now, her voice so loud that she thought her mother's hair was blowing back.

Then she was crying.

Dammit, I hate crying in public, she's going to hurt me, she's— And when she felt arms around her, her first instinct was to pull back. But then she smelled that warm brown scent, and felt a chest in just the right position to support her head, and she cried into Jon's shoulder and clung to him as his arms wrapped around her, sobbing like the end of the world, and neither of them ever saw the pain on Linda Delaney's face when she saw her daughter turn to the comfort of another's arms.

There was silence for a long time.

Then she heard her mother's voice, cold. "You are no child of mine."

"That's entirely correct, Mrs. Delaney," said Jon from above her, his voice quiet, quiet and infinitely gentle. The sound of it rumbled in his chest under her face. "She is not your child anymore. You say you came here to get your little girl back. I'm sorry to say that she isn't here. She isn't anywhere. She was taken from you by God, and time, and the natural order of things, just like your son was. Your baby girl, Caitlyn Claire Delaney, is gone.

"Yourdaughter, however, is still here. Caitlyn Stanford is still here. And as you can see from her current state, she still loves you dearly, or you wouldn't have been able to hurt her this way. Her life may be... More in another's hands, now, but inside every adult is still a child, who wants their mother there. Your daughter, you can have. She wants you, and loves you, and maybe even still needs you for things that I can't give her. Your daughter, you can have. But only if you can give up your little girl. Only if you can let your little girl go, so that your daughter can come back to you.

"And now I think you've upset Caitlyn, so, I'd like to ask you to leave."

"What if we don't," Mrs. Delaney said immediately. "What if we stay."

"Then stay, if you choose," said Jon. "I'm not going to force you to leave. I have more pressing matters to attend to." She felt his hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair, smoothing the tears out of her. "Shh. It's okay, Caitlyn. It's okay."

It's not okay. It'll never be okay again.

Then there were footsteps, and the front door closing, and silence for a long time; and eventually she realized they must have sat down on the couch, because that was the shape her body was in, and the congenial buzz of the television was closer, but for a long time, there were only tears, and the bone-deep weariness of failure.I'm no child of hers. I'm no child of hers. I'm not... My mother...

Not even Jon is worth this.

When she awoke, the television was much flashier. She was lying with her head in Jon's lap, she realized—a small puddle of drool had formed on his pant leg—and there was raucous celebration on the screen. In the slow, hazy process of waking, it took her a little while to understand what she was seeing: Times Square, on the eve of the new year, working itself into a frenzy as the ball dripped ever downward. The clock on the screen said11:37.

"Hey," she heard, and a hand moved from her back to her hair, stroking lightly.

"Hey," she said. "Have you been here all night?"

"It's okay," he said. "I've been watching the ceremony. I don't think I've ever seen one of these before."

"Really?"

"Just... Never been interested."

She sat up, feeling muscles rejoice and complain as she extricated herself from her former position, and then stretched, to see if she could get herself unknotted. Immediately she felt his hands on her back, massaging, working the tension out of her arms and shoulders and sides.

"You haven't been here thewhole time," she said.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, for one, the lights are off. Plus, the food's all cleaned up and the dishes put away."

"Hey, you were sleeping that deeply. I just snuck back in after I was done."

"I hope you threw away that terrible teriyaki stuff."

"Hey, I liked it. I thought it was pretty good."

"You like teriyaki-flavored charcoal?"

"Better than styrofoam mashed potatoes."

"...How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That I made them out of styrofoam."

"I saw you mashing up a to-go container."

"But you still ate them."

"I was hungry. Needed something besides charcoal. They looked good."

She was lying back in his arms by now, across his lap, held up by one arm so that she could look into his eyes. "Thank you," she said.

"You looked tense. It was the least I could do."

"No, for... For having faith in me. For letting me invite my parents. For letting me do that to you. For... For being able to just put the whole relationship on the table and not, and not be ashamed, or shy, or..."It's so much more than that. It's everything. It's... "Thank you for loving me."

His arms brought her up to him. "Baby, you made me everything I am. How could Inot love you?"

But how did that happen?You made me everythingI am, which is why I love you. It's so tangled up. How did that all happen?

They kissed as the TV continued its raucous chatter, broadcasting live the things that had happened three hours ago on the East Coast. She turned in his lap, leaning into him, kissing him, feeling his response under her as his tongue slipped into her mouth, feeling his hands running down her back, and when she was ready she whispered, "Hold on a minute," and darted off into the bedroom and came back with a condom.

And they did it in front of the television, naked on the couch. There was no fuss, no hurry, no urgency, just his love for her, and hers for him, as she straddled him and took him inside her. Her clit brushed against his body at every stroke, but that almost didn't matter; what was important was his lips, his hands, his eyes, his arms around her and her breasts against his chest and their tongues intertwined and the fact that she loved him, more than words could say, more than even their lovemaking could say. She noticed in passing that the blinds were open, but decided that she didn't care; probably no one was looking, and probably they couldn't see even if they were, and what was to be embarrassed about anyway? She loved her husband; what was wrong with showing that?

No. Jon isn't worth losing my mother. Jon is worth so much more than that. Without him, I wouldn't have her at all.

When it was over, they cuddled up together to watch the ball drop, back-to-front like spoons. She hadn't come, and his was so subdued that she almost missed it, but that wasn't important either.We're together, and it's a new year, and nothing can take us apart.

"I think I wanna kiss someone at midnight," said Jon.

"Hmm," said Caitlyn. "I've never done that before."

"Neither have I, actually," said Jon. "Maybe we could, you know. Change that."

"I dunno, Mr. Stanford," said Caitlyn. "I'm not that sort of girl."

"The sort of girl who kisses at midnight?"

"Yes," she said. "Such an unsavory reputation. But, I think that, for the right man, I might change my mind."

"Mmm," he said, nuzzling her neck. "I might be the right man."

"Are you?"

"Let me prove it."

Three... Two... One... said the television. But they never noticed it at all.