I Married a Retired Escort

"Martha Ellen Harris," I repeated slowly. "That's a beautiful name." I paused a moment. "I believe Martha Ellen Smith sounds better."

"John Alfred Smith, is that a proposal?"

"Yes. Yes!"

"The courthouse opens at nine on Monday."

"Wait a minute. I'm supposed to meet your family and ask your father for your hand and all that other stuff."

"Forget that other stuff. John, I love you. I can't wait to be your wife." She was crying, and so was I. "Where's the phone? I have to call the office and retire."

"Retire?"

"It would look better under occupation than prostitute on job applications. Imagine being retired at twenty-four. How many people can say that?"

I called off work the following Monday. We went to the courthouse and got married. The next week she found a job in marketing. She retired from that when she became pregnant.

Last week we both slipped on a wet floor. Our son couldn't understand why we found it so funny or why I carried her to the bed when Mommy wasn't hurt. Maybe someday we will tell him.