“You must be Marilyn. It’s so nice to meet you,” she said cheerfully. Or at least mostly cheerfully. Mom knew Marilyn was important to me, but she didn’t know her yet. She had yet to realize how totally unsuitable Marilyn was for me. Things became frostier after that, at least on the first time through.
I waited until we came inside before doing the introductions. I set the bag down and said, “Marilyn, I’d like you to meet my mother. Mom, this is Marilyn Lefleur.” They shook hands, and then I pointed past Mom to where my father stood in the kitchen doorway. “And that would be my father. Dad, Marilyn.” Finally I nodded towards where Suzie was grinning over at the side. “And that would be my sister, Suzie!”
“Hi! Come on in! So you’re Carling’s girlfriend! We have got so much to talk about!” squealed Suzie excitedly. I just snorted at that, although my parents and Marilyn laughed.
“Carl’s brother Hamilton must be downstairs.” Mom went to the stairwell and yelled down, “Hamilton, our guest has arrived.”
A moment later Ham climbed up the stairs, not looking all that welcoming, but he mumbled hello and went back down to his room. I noticed Dad was standing quite close to Ham when he came up the stairs, and I kept an eye on the little asshole, too. He wasn’t so little anymore, either. He had hit his growth spurt in the year I was away, and was now as tall as Dad, if not taller. (At 5’11" I ended up the runt of the family. Hamilton was 6’2", Dad was 6’1", and both Mom and Suzie were 5’10", a well above average height at the time for a woman.)
Dad offered to make mixed drinks for everyone, which Mom, Marilyn, and I accepted. Suzie also accepted one, which both my parents found amusing, and Suzie was sent off for a Coke. Drinks were bourbon and bitter lemon, a sort of southern 7&7, which was okay with me, although it took Marilyn a few sips to get used to. It’s much tarter than what she normally drank. Meanwhile Suzie was peppering Marilyn with questions about college and how we met.
“Well, we met at a party,” answered Marilyn, “and we just hit it off.”
I laughed loudly at that, and all eyes turned to me. “Tell them the truth,” I said. Everybody started gabbling about what I meant, and I amplified my question. “Tell them the truth. We met when I fought a duel to defend your honor!”
My mother looked horrified, Suzie looked fascinated, and Dad looked curious. “WHAT?!” sputtered out of everyone’s lips, all except Marilyn who blushed sheepishly.
“It wasn’t like that!” she protested.
“Tell me what wasn’t like that? I fought a duel, right?”
“It wasn’t that kind of duel!”
“And I defended your honor!”
“You defended me from having to dance with your drunken frat brother!” she replied. “And it wasn’t like you fought all that hard, anyway!”
“What was the duel?” asked Dad.
“You tell them. It’s too silly for me to explain,” commented Marilyn.
I shrugged. “We did flaming shots at two paces.” Mom just looked confused. “We poured booze into a couple of shot glasses and set it on fire before drinking it down. He burned his fingers and I drank both shots and won!” Mom gave me a very disapproving look, Dad just laughed and rolled his eyes, and Suzie wanted me to demonstrate it, which I refused.
“When I tell the story it sounds much more adventurous and romantic than when I tell it the other way,” I told Marilyn.
“What other way?” she asked.
“That this girl came to a drunken frat party in a car called the Meat Wagon, immediately headed to the bar, and picked up the bartender!” This time Marilyn joined in with the howls of protest, and punched me twice in the arm. Mom was very disapproving of this interpretation, and Dad simply groaned and headed to the kitchen to make another round of drinks. Suzie, on the other hand, wanted to know about me being a bartender. Teenagers! Suzie had just turned 13 and found this dating stuff fascinating.
Dinner that night was a baked ham with all the fixings. Suzie moved across the table to sit next to Hamilton, which he did not take gracefully, but it only took one word of warning from Dad to calm him down. Marilyn missed the byplay, and she and I sat opposite them. Most of the questions were about Marilyn and her family. Every once in a while one of the answers would have my parents glancing in my direction. Marilyn Lefleur was totally out of their comprehension. We had absolutely nothing in common.
“Well, we do have a few differences, I suppose. I mean, it’s pretty obvious she’s a Yankee, but if that was a problem we’d have to get rid of Suzie, too,” I said.
Suzie grinned. “Yeah, you’re a Yankee, too! Where were you born?”
“Plattsburgh. Why?”
“Where’s that?” my sister asked.
“It’s way up by the Canadian border on Lake Champlain.”
“Cool! I was born in Gettysburg, so I’m a Yankee, too!” That was true. Dad had briefly had a job in Gettysburg before he got on with Harry T. Campbell’s. I had actually gone to first grade there.
“That’s right, I almost forgot that,” I said. “And I don’t think Marilyn told you she was Catholic, but I suppose the nine brothers and sisters gave you a hint.”
Dad chuckled at that; religion never bothered him. It did bother my mother, who was quite a bigoted anti-Catholic. She was very pleased when I didn’t have to convert, and once gave Marilyn a lovely Celtic cross (the type with two cross pieces) that she got as a gift, with the explanation that she couldn’t wear it, since it was a Catholic cross. Suzie, however, thought this was all quite hilarious. Her best friend in life was Louise Sellisman, the next door neighbor, who was also Catholic. They were BFFs before the phrase was even invented. They were each others’ maids of honor and a godmother to a kid. Mom’s lips pursed when I said Marilyn was Catholic, but she didn’t say anything.
“Still, it could have been worse. At least she’s a Republican,” I finished.
“Carling! I am not! I’m a Democrat and you know it!” protested Marilyn.
At that comment Mom’s eyes lit up with a look of laughter, and Suzie and even Hamilton broke into laughter. It was my father’s turn to see red! More than a few times in life we heard him railing on about “Those people!” and what they were doing to the country. I even heard some of his coworkers kidding him about it once.
I just kept as straight a face as I could. Marilyn turned her head to face me. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I will get you back for this!”
“I’m just welcoming you to the bosom of my family,” I answered, right before breaking down into helpless laughter. The rest of dinner was spent explaining how we were different.
At the end of dinner, Mom offered up some cherry pie for dessert. “How about giving Marilyn and me a chance to work off dinner first?” I said. “Care to take a walk?”
“Sure.”
We put some shoes on, and I called for Daisy to join us. I figured a nice walk around the block would give us a chance to digest our meal, and I could show her the nice summer in Maryland.
We held hands as we walked. Marilyn said, “Your family is very nice.”
“They’re okay.” I shrugged my shoulders good-naturedly. “It’s not like you get to choose.”
“Does your mother like me? I can’t really tell.”
That got a laugh out of me. “No, but don’t worry about it. No girl alive would be satisfactory for my mother. She doesn’t get a vote.”
Marilyn gave me a worried look. “She doesn’t like me?”
“Of course she likes you. You’re a wonderful person. Don’t worry about it. The Queen of Sheba wouldn’t be good enough for me. Ignore her, like Suzie and I do. I can’t wait until Suzie starts dating and my parents have to worry about that! They’ll have some real fun there!” I responded.