Nancy looked at me, then at her parents, then back to me. She was more awake now. “Mackenzie, we can’t talk about this now.”
“Why not?” Nancy’s father said.
“Aaron, mind yourself,” chided Mrs. Marshall.
“Nancy,” I said, “I’ve been miserable these last three days. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t think.”
“Can you drink?” Nancy asked sternly.
“I know, I know. I’ve been a jerk. I was wrong. I’ll never do it again.”
Nancy walked down two steps toward me. “You’ll never do what again? Drink?”
“I mean I’ll never treat you as bad as I did. Never again.”
She took another step toward me. “Are you saying you’ll trust me from now on?”
I nodded.
“Are you saying you won’t get mad at me anymore and say stupid things?”
I nodded again.
She was one step away from me. “Are you saying you won’t get into a fight with your boss, insult him, and quit your job?”
“You know?” I said.
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past three days? I’ve been miserable too, Mackenzie.”
“Hah!” Mr. Marshall said. “Miserable? That’s putting it mildly.”
“Aaron!”
“So what are you saying to me, Mackenzie?
With Nancy being one step up from me our eyes were at the same level. I never realized before how deep I could look into her eyes. I wasn’t just seeing my reflection, I was seeing myself in her, like I was a part of her.
“Well, I…” The rain was dripping off my hair and into my eyes. Luckily, I was able to wipe the rain and tears from my face together. “Nancy, I…” I looked down at Nancy’s parents. They were standing in the foyer, their fingers gripping each other’s bathrobe. “Nancy, will you marry me?”
I heard someone gasp. I don’t think it was me. Nancy was slow to react. She ran her fingers along both sides of my head, straightened out my hair on top, briefly held my face in her hands, and with a smile that I hadn’t seen in too long of a time, and in a voice that I ached to hear again she said, “Yes.”
On the staircase. In Nancy’s house. In front of her parents. I proposed to her. She said yes. Who would ever forget it? Not me. Surely not Nancy. It may not have been what Nancy expected, but she did tell me once that she wanted to be surprised. Well…surprise! I’m getting married. Married to Nancy Marshall of Maplewood, New Jersey. We held each other and kissed, long and warm, soft and submitting. A forever kiss, because I would remember it forever.
“I love you, Mackenzie,” she whispered into my ear.
I held her tighter. I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream it out! “Me too,” I said softly.
“Well,” Mrs. Marshall said, wiping her eyes, “let’s all go into the kitchen. I’ll put some coffee on.”
I turned to see Nancy’s father looking up at us, a blank expression on his face. His eyes were the same color as Nancy’s, but instead of my reflection, I saw a child riding a bike for the first time, I saw birthday candles and Merry-go-rounds, I saw scraped knees and a healing kiss, I saw dance recitals and diplomas. I saw a woman waving good-bye. His jaw moved slowly from side to side.
“Coffee, hell,” he said. “Break out the champagne. My little girl’s getting married.”
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