Becoming Hers Pt. 03

Becoming Hers

Part 3

The continuation of the story.

Chapter 15

Getting engaged was easy. Getting married wasn't.

Over the next several months as we dated things returned to normal, at least from my perspective. We spoke every day and saw each other three or four times a week. I used some of the money I had made over the summer to treat her well. We went to nice restaurants and the theatre and I enjoyed watching her reaction when I surprised her with gifts. Most of all, though, I just enjoyed being with her, even doing simple things. We ran together regularly, took walks, and just hung out, talking. She did not much like my friends but we did go out with hers sometimes. I always had a hard time finding interesting things to discuss with them but as long as I could spend time with Sally I didn't mind. She made me feel, and that alone was so fresh and intoxicating that it was worth everything else.

By February I decided to propose. I realized that it was fast and was worried that it would scare her but I knew what I wanted. One day after she slept over my place, as she showered, I took the measurements of one of the rings she wore. When I confided to a classmate that I was going to buy an engagement ring he suggested that I try the Diamond District, in Midtown. I went down there on a cold weekday after classes.

The streets were teeming with people and lined with small stores and entrances to inside bazaars. All around each of these bazaars were small stalls, each of which sparkled with precious jewelry and gold. The prices were not clearly marked or sometimes not marked at all. I wanted to get the perfect ring but didn't even know where to begin or whether the dealers were reputable. It was not my speed.

So instead I went to Tiffany's on Fifth Avenue. A pretty saleswoman helped me, guiding me through their many, and expensive, engagement rings. I finally settled on one that, I later realized, looked a lot like my mother's. It had a single, large classic round diamond set in white gold. The light just danced through and off the stone. The band was tapered and had a number of small, bead-like diamonds around it. At almost $20,000 it was beyond what I had, but I knew that I would soon be able to pay it back. I used my credit card (really two credit cards, since I hit my credit limit for one) to buy it.

For our date that Friday night I told her to dress up for dinner. Since we would often dress to go out I could keep my intentions secret. I met her outside her apartment building. It was a cold night and we were both bundled up. I hailed a taxi and we drove to the restaurant.

I had picked a special restaurant, one of the nicest in New York. We had never eaten there -- or, for that matter, anyplace in that stratosphere of highly starred and expensive restaurants. As soon as we arrived our coats were taken, which is when I saw Sally's stunning outfit. She was wearing a tight fitting black dress with white lines down the side. It went up to mid-thigh and down to expose just a hint of her breasts. With the black high heel shoes it was sexy as hell.

The restaurant was relatively small and, unlike many restaurants in New York, maintained a respectable distance between tables. It was classy and subdued, with fresh flowers and a candle on our table. I ordered wine for us and she looked at the menu. I could sense her discomfort.

"Everything okay?"

"I've never eaten in a restaurant like this. I'm not sure how this menu works."

It was a three course prix fixe menu, with choices for each of the courses. Truth be told, the menu was a bit intimidating, even for me. Many of the ingredients and preparations were foreign, often quite literally. I blustered my way through it, though, and recommended some dishes. When the server came I ordered for the two of us. We looked around and took in the quiet elegance; the wood paneling and exquisite attention to detail. We sat quietly for a minute sipping our wine and hardly noticing as our water glasses were instantly refilled.

"This is something. Anything special?"

"Just you."

"That's sweet."

"You look beautiful tonight."

"Don't I always?"

I laughed.

"OK, you look normal tonight."

"You don't like the dress?"

She had been quiet before but was slowly coming out of her shell. We bantered and flirted a bit. She shared the stories of her dysfunctional office. I barely heard, though. I was trying to figure out when and how I should propose. I hadn't full thought this through and the ring was burning a hole in my pocket.

Dinner proved to be unexpectedly complicated. Each course came with a description of the ingredients, where they are from (for example, the butter was from the cream of cows pastured near the ocean in Normandy, France) and what (sometimes unnatural things) the chef did to them. It was quite an experience, though. The flavors were layered and delightfully shifted in the course of a mouthful. I had never expected that eating could be so interesting and exciting.

Sally was now telling me about problems with her roommate. I had never met her. Actually -- and this did bother me a bit -- I had never been inside her apartment. She always insisted that we stay at my place. She said that her place was small and it embarrassed her. Her roommate too was a pain in the ass. The mood was not quite right.

And then, suddenly, dinner was over. I paid with my credit card -- what's another $500 on top of a $20,000 balance? -- and we were slipping back into our coats. I was caught off guard and feeling queasy.

"Home?"

"How about a nightcap?" It sounded silly, but I was desperate. It was 10 PM, still early for us.

"Sure."

We got a taxi and rode for a short distance. She was quiet and did not ask where we were going. I decided to bring her to the Rainbow Room, high up in Rockefeller Center. We ascended to the 65^th floor and got a table by the window. We looked down at Manhattan, all lit up. It was beautiful and romantic and I was nervous.

"Is everything okay? You seem quiet tonight?"

She took a deep breath.

"I - , I-. John and Jane are separating."

I was surprised. They had three children, the oldest of which was fourteen. I had only met them that once.

"Jane left," Sally continued. "She told John that she couldn't live like that anymore and she had been unhappy for years. John is really upset."

"What do you mean, live like that? How do you know?"

"Jane called me and I met her earlier today for coffee. She seemed depressed but determined. She told me that when they had met, there had been sparks. John was devoted, and passionate. She loved the way he looked at her. John was never very romantic but they were deeply in love with each other. And then, over time, it just got less passionate. Last week Jane discovered that John was having an affair."

"An affair?"

"Yeah. She doesn't know all the details but she suspected something and confronted him. He admitted it and they had a giant fight. You never want to get into a fight with Jane. She has an incredible temper."

We sat for a moment quietly.

"Are you surprised?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. John is like all the other men in my family. Not very emotional, a bit self-absorbed. I always knew he could be an asshole but I figured that I felt that because he was my brother. I see him with the kids and he is a great father. I always saw, I think, that Jane wanted more. She wanted to be out there, not trapped at home without passion.

"It makes me sad. It makes me think of my mother too. And who knows what's going on with Rosemary. I don't really know what goes on in my parents' marriage, but I never see affection and passion. My dad looks more longingly at a steak than he does at my mother."

I suppressed a smile. It made me think of my own parents.

Another quiet moment. She gulped.

"I'm afraid. I'm afraid that that is my fate too. That I'll end up just like them."

She looked at me, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

"I don't think you will."

"Why?"

"Because I'm crazy about you. And I always will be."

I took out the box with the ring, put it on the table, and slid it over to her. The City below seemed to pause. She looked at the box.

"What is this?"

"Why don't you open it?"

I could see her hands trembling slightly as she took the box. She snapped it open and stared.

"Will you marry me?"

I don't think that the silence lasted very long, maybe a matter of seconds. To me, though, it seemed like an eternity. I wanted to throw up.

We had never really talked about marriage. We talked vaguely of the kind of life we each wanted to live, the number of children we each saw ourselves with (two for me, more for her). We talked about our values in a way that both knew was probing and exploring to check compatibility. I was wondering if I had acted too impulsively. Before meeting her, though, I never would have acted like this, and I loved this about her and her effect on me.

"Oh Steven. I don't know what to say."

"If I can be trite, say yes."

"Why, though? Why would you want to marry me?"

"What do you mean? You know I love you."

"I do. And I love you. But our lives together? How do you know it would work?"

"Honestly, I don't. But ever since I met you I thought you were extraordinary. You are beautiful and sexy. You are funny and sassy. You have a spark and spunk that lights up my life. You have made me feel things that I have never felt; you make me want to be a better man, for you. Come on, haven't I become less of an asshole over these past few months?"

She laughed and nodded. It lifted the mood a little.

"Seriously, I have never known with any other woman. But with you I really do know and I have known for a while. I can't imagine being without you but I can do nothing other than imagine being with you."

She paused again.

"How would we live?"

"However you want. I start work over the summer and we should have enough money to live well, more or less wherever we want. I want to be with you. To have children with you and raise a family, one that is close and warm and different from what I grew up with. I want to make you happy."

"Yes."

"Yes, like yes?"

"Yes. I will marry you."

I took her hand and the box. I took the ring out and put it on her finger. Catching the candlelight and yellow-ish ambient lighting the diamond flashed. We both looked at the ring on her finger and then at each other.

We leaned over the table, which people in the Rainbow Room don't do, and kissed each other deeply. Some of the other patrons were watching us. I saw one couple smile while another scowled at our lack of decorum. The City below came back to life. Our server had seen the proposal unfold and, unsolicited, he brought us two glasses of Champagne.

"This is on the house. Congratulations." A few couples nearby who overheard lightly clapped. We both blushed.

"To us," I said, raising my glass.

"Forever."

Chapter 16

A few weeks later I took Sally to meet my parents for the first time. We went to their house in Westchester for Sunday brunch. My younger sister, who had also never met Sally, was also there. Their house was a few miles from the train station, set back off a small road without sidewalks, so I rented a Zipcar to get us there. In contrast to Sally's house, it was spacious and airy with an open floor plan. My mother had set the dining room table for the five of us. She was a surprisingly good cook and despite her always being busy during the week she occasionally liked to make an elaborate meal on the weekends. I had told them over the phone that we were engaged and I'm sure that they wanted to make a good impression.

My mother is tall and thin with straight brown hair. When we arrived she was wearing a simple but elegant blue dress and an understated gold chain. She opened the door for us and smiled broadly when she met Sally.

"It is so nice to finally meet you," she said, as she clasped her hands and gave her a peck on each cheek. "Steven has told me so much about you."

That statement puzzled me, because actually I had told her quite little. Maybe in my relatively taciturn family that counted for a lot. Or maybe the fact that I told her anything at all about a girl -- which I had never done -- gave her that idea.

"It's a really pleasure, Mrs. Winthrop." My mother nodded almost imperceptibly, approving of the deference.

"Come in, let me take your coats. Would you like a drink?"

My mother, I knew, meant a mimosa or bloody Mary. Sally took it differently.

"Sure, a coffee would be great."

A slight hiccup, but everyone seemed to survive that encounter.

My mother brought us all coffee. As we were telling her about the uneventful trip up my father entered. He was also tall and imposing and had the best posture of any man I had ever known. He was a contrast to John (Sr.) Donovan. Donovan was stocky, informal, and talkative (at least about some topics). My father was always reserved and formal. He was wearing a long sleeve, plaid button-down shirt, khakis and loafers and was carrying a bloody Mary, a small regular indulgence of his on Sunday mornings. Sally rose from the couch as he approached and he held out his hand to shake hers.

We chit chatted for a while. My parents, of course, wanted to know more about Sally and her family but they were too polite to ask anything more than the most trivial questions. Soon my sixteen-year-old sister Joy bounded down the stairs. She was in jeans and a light cotton pink sweater that hugged her developing chest. Joy was pretty and knew it. She was popular among the boys and stood just out of reach of the boys, teasing them in the way that those high school girls did to me. With a big smile that could have been fake she introduced herself to Sally. Then we all went in to eat.

The conversation was subdued and polite. We started with current events but Sally was quiet and Joy was clearly bored. Joy really wanted to talk about the lacrosse season, which just started for her. Sally smiled indulgently but nobody else was much interested and eventually my mother stopped her. Then she began to ease into the topic was on all of our minds (except for Joy's).

"So Sally, how did Steven propose?"

She told her the story and showed her the ring. She and Joy complimented it. My father shot me a glance, like, "How did you afford that thing? A bit much, isn't it?"

"Do you know when you want to marry?"

"We were thinking about this August."

"That's soon! Have you thought about what kind of wedding you would like?"

Sally had thought deeply, over many years, about what kind of wedding she would like. A big, boisterous Irish one that began in her childhood church and through which she got to be the princess. She had told me some of what she was thinking in excruciating detail but she was calibrating how to express this to my mother.

"I was hoping to marry in my church. I have a large family of course would like to invite them."

My father frowned slightly. He was an Episcopalian and while neither particularly religious nor bigoted, the thought of going to a Catholic church surrounded by her family -- ours was quite small -- was not appealing.

"What can I do," Joy interrupted.

"Well, you would join my sisters as a bridesmaid. That is, only if you want to."

"Of course I want to! What would I wear?" We all laughed.

"What would you like to wear?" Sally asked?

Joy began to describe some bridesmaid dress she had seen on television. I was quickly lost. Sally, though, took it all in stride, asking encouraging questions. My father looked bored.

"That sounds lovely, Joy. I'll tell you what, we want all the bridesmaids to look great, be comfortable, and also be able to afford their dresses, right?"

Joy had not considered the second two points. She thought a minute and then nodded.

"So if you can take those things into account, I can put you in charge of picking the outfits for the bridesmaids. I need to approve them, though!"

Joy squealed.

"This is going to be so exciting!"

As we discussed our wedding the past couple of weeks, we had only delicately touched on the matter of money. Sally's vision of a large wedding was expensive and we both knew that her parents couldn't afford it. Meeting my parents for the first time, it was also not something she felt comfortable bringing up. I decided to bring it up.

"Umm, there is something that we wanted to talk to you about. We've obviously never done a wedding, and the cost...."

My father immediately got it and put me out of my pain.

"We would be happy to help pay for the wedding. Within reason, of course." They knew that they could easily afford this, and he and my mother already were a step ahead thinking about how to angle more leverage for time with their future grandchildren.

Sally broke into a broad smile. She was going to be able to have the wedding about which she had dreamed. I was more relieved than anything else and happy that Sally was happy. As long as I could invite my old buddies and have an open bar, I was happy.

We worked out a plan. Since my mother was too busy with work to be that involved in the planning, Sally and her mother would work out a plan and run it by her. They would then price it out and my parents would work with hers to pay for it. My parents were willing to pay for it all but they wanted to make sure that the Donovans preserved their dignity.

As we cleaned up, Joy found me alone in the kitchen.

"She's nice!"

"You sound surprised?"

"Why would she agree to marry you? She's too sweet. You're going to roll her right over."

And with that, she bounded upstairs to start searching for dresses on her computer.

We said goodbye to my parents and got into the car. It was cloudy and cold but we felt cozy, warm, and safe in the car.

"I don't know if your parents liked me."

"I'm sure that they did." I really was sure. I thought.

"That was so nice of them. To pick up the cost of the wedding."

"Yes. It's great." I didn't add that it was almost certainly the result of a fast cost-benefit analysis rather than compassion, generosity, or love.

As we drove she leaned over and kissed my cheek and then, for forty-five minutes, talked about all the planning that was necessary for the wedding-to-be. I kept my mind on my upcoming exam in marketing.

Chapter 17

The next months passed quickly. Nearly every time I saw Sally she had something new to tell me about the planning and wanted my input on some important matter that seemed trivial. I just reveled in her joy. Whatever she wanted to do was fine with me. I saw my job as showing up, looking good, and helping to make her shine. I decided to buy my tuxedo and I expected that I would soon need one for work events anyway.

I needed to crack down on my schoolwork, which also served as a good excuse to bow out of the discussions and occasional fights between Sally and her mother. I finished the semester strong. My parents and Sally's met at my graduation ceremony. They did not exactly become fast friends, but they were cordial and quickly laid the foundations for a working relationship. I was offered a job at the VC firm I had worked at over the summer and quickly took it, with the condition that I begin in late August after my honeymoon. All the pieces were falling into place.

The wedding took place at a beautiful old church in Far Rockaway. My sister had done well -- the bridesmaids' dresses were beautiful and elegant. They were baby blue and low-cut with a sequined top and a satin band around mid-stomach. They went all the way to the floor. My sister, her sister, and Jane (there was a significant amount of fighting, tension, and disagreement about this choice but Sally felt close to her and wanted her there) all marched down the aisle. There must have been 200 members of Sally's family there, though I was beginning to think of it more like a tribe. I'm not sure if my family numbered twenty-five.