I leaned back against the wall by the table of munchies and stared out the bank of windows across from me, idly playing with my ring. I intensely disliked the large, ostentatious stone on it, but I'd asked for something that screamed 'You could feed a small country for what I cost' so I'd just have to deal with it, at least until after the bridal shower. My mom's Aunt Harriet was throwing it for all the ladies on that side of the family tree, so I'd had to fly up to Rochester for the weekend.

My actual engagement ring, which had a small marquis cut sapphire with a smaller diamond on each side, was on a chain around my neck and all it said was 'I'm not following the crowd'. I kept it there most of the time because I had a bad habit of taking off rings and forgetting where I left them. I hoped the ring I was wearing wouldn't become another casualty. I had to get it back to my friend, Kay, when I returned to the City and she'd have my head if I didn't. It was just a piece of costume jewelry, but Kay, who worked wardrobe, needed it back for the show she was doing wardrobe for, which opened the next week.

The reason I'd asked Kay to find me something big and gaudy went back to the previous summer, when the Pattersons descended upon my parents' house for their yearly Visit from Hell.

There were two new faces in the van that year, Anthony Caine, Liz's fiancée, his daughter. Elly had spewed forth much glurge about Liz's engagement in her letters and gone into great detail about the paragon of manly virtue that was Anthony Caine and gushed about how fabulous his daughter, Francie, was, so we'd had time to prepare ourselves for the two new member of their Canadian freak show—or we thought we had.

Anthony struck me as a bit of a geek and totally pussywhipped almost from the first moment I saw him. The light blue polo shirt, obviously ironed, and pocket protector, the faded khaki slacks, the scuffed black shoes and white socks, the glasses that looked like a holdover from the 1970s…I knew the look well. A friend of mine had married an engineering geek about six years prior. As Bill Gates had proven, the geek shall inherit the earth so I had great respect for geeks and my friend's husband was a nice guy. A bit boring for my tastes, but a great guy. That Anthony was pussywhipped was obvious from the way he trailed a step or two behind Liz, let her answer questions for him, and always answered Liz with "Of course, dear" and "Yes, dear". As my friend, Jen, would say, Anthony would have to ask Liz for his balls back every time they had sex.

Francie was…weird. Freakishly precocious; a seven-year-old in a three-year-old's body.

"When does her head start spinning?" my cousin, Sarah, asked me when Francie wandered off after asking us where we worked and if we enjoyed what we did. The whole time, Francie had stared at us with an unblinking gaze that made me feel like she was reading my every thought. Sarah just thought she was possessed, which had prompted her question about Francie's head spinning.

"I think I'll go get my Bible, just in case." I heard Francie tell Johanna and Hope, a cousin's girls, she wanted to pretend they were all sisters and that they could pretend the porch was their bedroom. "If she starts to projectile vomit pea soup, I'll hit her over the head with it. There's a church up the road, so you can run and get some holy water or a pastor or something. I'll hold her down until you get back." We looked at each other and laughed.

"She obviously got her intelligence from her mother. Have you heard her dad talk?" Sarah smirked. "Definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed."

"That would explain why he latched onto Liz. Any smarter and he'd see straight through her crap, just like Paul did. I guess he's a good accountant, though."

"Idiot savant. I've read about them, but never thought I'd meet one."

"No, idiot savants are autistic and screamingly intelligent. Anthony just happens to be good with an adding machine and filling in ledger book columns."

Sarah put her arm around my shoulders. "So that's Liz's Prince Charming, her knight in shining armor. Oh, how the mighty have lowered their standards!"

"Amen. If I ever get like her, you have my permission to use heroic measures to save me from myself. You, Regina, and Erica. Tie me down, lock me away…whatever you have to do."

"I'd do it even if I didn't have your permission. Friends don't let friends make mistakes like that, and no way I want to have to deal with someone like that at family get-togethers."

"I'm sure he has his good points." I thought for a moment. "I don't know what they are yet, but I'm sure he has some. On the subject of Princes Most Charming, how's yours?"

"Jim's fine. He's over talking to Derek, Regina's boyfriend." I could almost hear Sarah glow with excitement when she spoke. "I can't believe we been married almost a year now. It seems like it's only been a month or two!"

I chuckled. "Give it another year and see if you're still so enamored with the way he leaves his nail clippings all over the carpet and forgets to put the toilet seat down when he's done."

"I am not enamored with falling into the toilet." She swatted me. "I never have been, and I don't think it's cute how he leaves his clothes in a heap on the floor instead of putting them in the hamper, either. I am in love with the fact he's a good cook and makes dinner most nights—because he wants to—and he's good about taking out the garbage."

"A veritable paragon of male virtue. Happy thought, indeed." I laughed when she swatted me again. "Seriously, I'm glad to hear you and Jim are doing well. You done picked yourself a good husband."

As I got to know Anthony better while we ate lunch, I was forced to add 'duller than stagnant water', 'the personality of cardboard', and 'affectionate as a rock' (with Liz; he showed some spark of life with Francie) to his list of qualities.

"So, how'd you two get engaged?" I asked during dinner. "Was it romantic?"

Anthony looked at me blankly for a moment. "No, not really. We were talking about our relationship—"

"Which we've been taking slow," Liz interrupted. "We don't want to rush into things. We were talking about our relationship and how we're good friends and Anthony asked if maybe we should get married, and I asked if that meant we were engaged, and he said 'I guess so'." Liz beamed. "I was so thrilled to finally be engaged!"

I took a bite out of my burger so I wouldn't have to speak. That was the proposal? Anthony said maybe they should get married? How totally underwhelming, and was it even a proposal if you had to clarify things before you were sure? What was with Liz being thrilled she was engaged? Not that she was thrilled to be engaged to Anthony, but just that she was thrilled to be engaged, period? It sounded like she was in love with the idea of engagement and marriage, not the guy she was engaged to be married to. I added Liz and Anthony to my mental list of things being single was better than, which also included the guy I'd almost dated who turned out to be a pedophile and the abusive jerk one of my dad's nieces had divorced two years back.

As the meal progressed, I noticed there were absolutely no signs of affection between Liz and Anthony. None. No casual touches, no holding hands, no fond looks, nothing. There was never any mention of love or having affection for one another, or even being fond of the other person. Just talk about being very good friends and bland smiles. The only times Liz really got excited was when she talked about buying the engagement ring.

"The token that says 'I'm taken'!" she quipped brightly, holding up her left hand to show off a square cut diamond on a gold band at least the size of the fingernail on her ring finger.

"Like the 'Sold' stickers they put on large items at the supermarket?" I smiled brightly. "Nothing like being able to show the world you're someone's possession."

Liz's elation faded. "I didn't say that."

"Didn't you? You said you have physical means to show everyone you're taken, which is exactly what a 'Sold' sticker does. It tells the world that you belong to someone, so it's just splitting hairs if you're talking about wearing an engagement ring or a 'Sold' sticker on a bag of cat litter. It's proof you're someone's possession." I gave her a double thumbs up. "Susan B. Anthony would be so proud. I think I hear her rolling in her grave now. Want to come with me later and we can go see for ourselves?"

Liz regarded me scornfully. "How are you going to do that? Flap your arms and fly to another state?"

"No, I'll get in my car and drive to the cemetery nearby where she's buried. Frederick Douglass is there, too. You can tell him all about why it's great to be a possession." Before Liz could say anything, I stood up. "You'll have to excuse me. The lack of self-respect over here is making me rather sick."

I stalked over to where the intelligent ladies my age were sitting with their men (Erica was solo).

"Sanctuary, I beg of you!" I said dramatically. "I would've fallen over, dead, from boredom and lack of romance if I'd stayed over there with Cardboard and Plywood much longer."

Sarah and Regina moved so there was room for me between them.

"That bad?" Regina asked sympathetically.

"Worse. I asked how Anthony had proposed and, I kid you not, he told me—or should I say, he started to tell me and Liz interrupted him and did all the talking for him and she told me that they'd been talking about their relationship, which they were taking slow and she made sure to emphasize that, and how they're good friends and Anthony said something about how maybe they should get married. Liz asked if that meant they were engaged, and Anthony said something like 'I guess so'."

There was a moment of silence as my cousins processed what I'd told them.

"That is how he proposed? Good lord, warm pudding is more exciting than that!" Erica sounded offended and put out. "Isn't Liz the one who was going on and on last year about how romantic her ex-boyfriends were? I can't believe she'd actually marry a guy like that."

"Sarah would've slapped me and told me I'd have to do better than that, right, babe?" Jim looked at Sarah.

"I'd have demanded to know who you were and what you'd done with my boyfriend. You are definitely not that lame."

"Glad you've noticed." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'm not romantic, just ask Sarah—" Sarah nodded "—and even I can tell that's pathetic."

"Jim's idea of a romantic proposal," Sarah said, "was a bunch of carnations from Wegmans and a bottle of wine when we were on the sofa after dinner, and he said he wanted me to spend the rest of my life with him, and then practically shoved the ring box at me. I had to open it and put the ring on myself!" She held up her left hand to show off her diamond solitaire. "He had good taste in rings, though." She leaned toward Jim and kissed him. "I'm working on teaching him how to be romantic. He got me flowers the other day just because."

"Congratulations. You're making progress," Regina, grinning.

"Who're Liz and Anthony?" Derek asked, and Jim echoed him.

Sarah, Regina, Erica, and I took turns filling Derek and Jim in on the freak show that was the Patterson clan and those foolish and crazy enough to marry into it.

"Does she have any other choice than to marry Anthony?" Regina asked sardonically when we finished. "It's not like there are any other guys lining up to ask for her hand." We all cracked up. "Don't forget she's an ancient twenty-six and if she doesn't marry soon, she'll become an Old Maid and be doomed to spinsterhood forever!" She struck a melodramatic pose.

"You mean like me?" I remarked dryly. "I'm a withered twenty-nine and only six months from hitting my 'Sell By' date when I turn thirty. I'd put a few hundred dollars on the fact that Elly has, at least once, offered my mom her condolences on the fact I'm unlikely to ever get married. As you can tell, I'm horribly broken up over my fate and so upset I can hardly eat." I grabbed a pickle off Sarah's plate and took a large bite out of it. "Anyone want to come shopping with me tomorrow for dowdy high-necked dresses and granny boots? Actually, scratch that. I'm going to be a Crazy Cat Lady, so I'll need baggy sweaters with lots of pockets and shapeless grey sack dresses and a big house for the hundreds of cats I, as a Crazy Cat Lady, must own. Oh! I just remembered. After Liz said Anthony told her 'I guess so' when she asked if they were engaged, Liz was just glowing when she said how excited she was to be engaged. She didn't say she was excited to be engaged to Anthony, or being engaged to a man she loved, or even a great guy who adored her, or anything like that. Just excited to be engaged, and then she starts talking about the engagement ring and called it, and I quote, 'the token that says "I'm taken."'"

"The hell?" Regina exclaimed. "What shit is that? The token that says 'I'm taken'? Why doesn't she just tattoo 'Sold' on her forehead? It would be a lot cheaper."

"I said it sounds like the 'Sold' sticker they put on big items at the grocery store and there's nothing like showing the world you're someone's possession. She denied saying it, and I pointed out to her how her ring and a 'Sold' sticker are both declaring to the world that you belong to someone, and that she just made Susan B. Anthony and Frederick Douglass roll in their graves over in Mount Hope Cemetery."

Erica laughed. "That's great! Awesome smack down!"

"Thanks. I wish they didn't make it so easy, though. The Pattersons," I explained when I saw Derek's confused expression. "Like shooting fish in an overstuffed barrel."

I managed to avoid Liz and her faithful puppy dog for most of the evening, but all good things must come to an end and she managed to corner me behind the house later in the afternoon.

"I forgive you for being nasty earlier," she said without preamble. "I know it's because you're jealous."

I burst out laughing so hard I had to lean against the house for support. Me, jealous Liz was excited about settling for a guy with the appeal of wilted lettuce, the personality of driftwood, and more boring that watching grass grow? Jealous of a lukewarm, indecisive proposal so ambiguous and vague Liz had to find out what he meant? Jealous she was more excited about letting the world know she was property than she was about who she was marrying and of a relationship more frigid and devoid of passion than dry ice? How many hits of acid had she dropped before coming to that conclusion? The mental picture of Liz locking herself in the bathroom and getting high made me laugh even harder.

When I finally stopped laughing and was able to stand on my own, I apologized.

"I wasn't laughing at you, just that you think I'm jealous of you, which couldn't be farther from the truth."

"Of course." Liz's already-smug expression grew even smugger, if such a thing were possible. "So what was it, then? You're happy for me?"

I pinched my lips together for a moment to keep from laughing again. "If I was, I'd say so. I didn't mean to be nasty, and I apologize if I was. I have a bad habit of speaking before thinking and saying exactly what's on my mind."

Friends have a word for her expression just then: gobsmacked. I wasn't sure if it was because the idea of someone not being thrilled for her might not have an ulterior motive was entirely foreign to her, but it didn't matter. Whatever the reason, she hadn't been expecting my answer.

I leaned back against the house, crossed my arms over my chest, and waited for Liz to snap out of it. I suppose I could've walked away, but I'd never been one to back down when a smartass got in my face unless there was a very good reason (read: I could end up getting pounded) and Liz would've taken my walking away as proof she was right.

I didn't have to wait long for the smug conceit to return.

"Whatever. I know you're jealous because I have a man and won't end up an old maid no man wants like you will. I totally understand why you'd be jealous, and I am sorry you've ended up like this. Maybe if you'd dressed more like a lady—"

"Stuff it." I took a step toward her. "Just because you're insecure and think your worth as a person is determined by what rings you wear doesn't mean all of us are that shallow and pathetic. Some of us have a life and know our worth has nothing to do with our marital status and that there are more things in life worth achieving than an Mrs. in front of our last name. I haven't been wasting my time worrying about why I'm not in a relationship because I have better things to do, like living my life to the fullest and enjoying myself. I will have a fabulous, full life regardless of if I ever get married. You have let life pass you by because you've been too busy waiting around for something that's not guaranteed to actually get out there and live." I started to smirk. "You're the one people should feel sorry for, not me. You're settling, Liz, and that's sad. If you're honest with yourself, you're not marrying Anthony because you want to spend the rest of your life with him, you're marrying him for the sake of being married."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Liz hissed, eyes narrowed. "Anthony's a great guy and we're really good friends."

"But do you love him? Where's the excitement and passion? You two show absolutely no affection to one another, not even holding hands. You used to get excited about the guys you were with, and now all you show excitement over is no longer being single. You want to marry for the sake of being married so you can feel like you're worth something and your life won't be a total waste, knock yourself out. Live like it's 1899 if that's your thing. Just remember the rest of us live like it's 2008, where engagement rings are a symbol of commitment and that you're going to spend the rest of your life with someone you love, not, to use your words, a token that says 'I'm taken'. Our lives don't revolve around getting married before thirty and we know better than to think life isn't worth anything if you're not married, and we're not jealous of you. At all. Especially not me. The last thing I want is a loveless marriage."

"At least I have someone who wants to marry me. That's more than you."

'You have no idea, you self-righteous bint,' I thought angrily, struggling to reign in my temper and keep from swearing the air blue as I ripped her a new one. 'Deep breath. Just breathe deeply and remember you have nothing to prove.'

Liz took my silence to mean she was right and smiled in the way you would if you were looking at a little child you didn't particularly like but had to be nice to.

"Don't feel too badly, Olivia," she smirked. "Not everyone's meant to be married."

"You mean April?" I affected a quizzical expression, intentionally misunderstanding her. "That's pretty harsh, especially considering she's only sixteen."

"That's not who I meant." Liz regarded me with thinly veiled contempt.

I smiled stiffly. "Who, then? I received a proposal in 2004 when I was in the UK. He was most passionate and…extremely persuasive." Remembering, I could almost feel Chris' lips on mine again and the way he pleaded with me to stay in London instead of returning to the States the next morning. "I was, to put it mildly, crushed and devastated when, two months later, he broke the engagement."

Liz regarded me for a moment, and then laughed disdainfully. "You expect me to believe that?" she sneered. "You made that up. If he loved you enough to marry you, he wouldn't have broken it off two months later."

"Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose. Long-distance relationships have a nasty habit of falling apart." Especially when he's bloody impatient and doesn't want to wait anymore.

The look Liz gave me then was pure venom. "You bitch; how dare you bring up what happened with Paul!" She made to slap me but I managed to step back quick enough to avoid being hit.

"I was talking about why my engagement fell apart, not whatever was going on with you and the guy where you used to teach," I spat. "Believe it or not, not everything is about you."

"You are so full of it, Olivia. I know you're lying, so just stop. I'm sorry you feel so inadequate that you have to make up stories and take potshots at me."

I gave a short bark of laughter. "You're incredible. Just because you haven't been informed of something doesn't mean it never happened, and you assume I have to be burning with jealousy of you and your life because I've made no secret of the fact I think Anthony's duller than wet cardboard and I think your excitement about being a possession is disgusting. News flash: You can't be jealous when you don't give a damn, and mine's busted. The rest of the world isn't going to give much of a damn, either, once the initial excitement is over. You're not special. You're another woman who got engaged. Whoopie-doo." I waived my finger in the air. "A ring doesn't make you better than the rest of us and you won't get special treatment because of it. Your life won't get easier and you definitely won't have fewer problems than before, and if you felt empty inside before it'll still be there after the honeymoon ends and you have to go back to the daily grind, and before you scoff and blow me off as not knowing what I'm talking about, that's what married couples have to say about marriage. I have no doubt you'll find ways to explain away what I just told you so you can go on believing marriage is the answer to everything, the same way you explained away everything I said when you moved in with Eric." I shook my head sadly. "Honestly, I feel sorry for you."

"Why do you feel sorry for me?"

"Because you're so desperate not to be single, you're settling. It's sad."

Her eyes narrowed. "The only thing that's sad is you, who's going to end up an old maid."

"Sticks and stone, dear." I smiled brightly. "Marriage isn't a race. There's no prize for saying your vows before anyone else. I'm not in any hurry, and you've strengthened my resolve not to be in any rush. When I get engaged, I'll have two things you don't."

"What, a walker and an oxygen tank?

"My pride and dignity, intact." I turned and walked away. 'Pwnd!' I thought gleefully, humming 'We Will Rock You'. 'Olivia 4, Liz 0.'

Like a bad case of jock itch, what I'd assumed was the end of the problem was only a lull in the storm. Thankfully, when she decided to have another go after dinner, I was with Sarah.

We were underneath the maple tree in the backyard, shooting the bull and trading advice on life, love, and other mysteries of life when Sarah poked my arm.

"Trouble at ten o'clock." She pointed to a figure striding toward us.

"What the heck does she want now?" I groaned. "To let me know she's aware of my plans to seduce Anthony away from her?"

"You sly person, you, leading us all to believe you didn't like him. For shame!" Sarah lightly swatted my arm. "I never knew you were the type to go for no personality."

"Oh, yeah, just love the guys who are duller than dishwater. And here she is. Smile! It makes people wonder what you're up to. What can we do for you, Liz?"

The younger of the two Patterson harpies glared down at me. "You," she said, spraying me with a shower of spit, "went way over the line, saying I don't have my pride and dignity and that I settled for Anthony because I'm afraid of being single!"

I calmly wiped my glasses as clean as I could on the hem of my shirt, and then cleaned my face.

"And you went way over the line with your baseless accusation that I'm jealous of you and that I made up the marriage proposal I received in 2004. Oh, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd keep your spit to yourself. I have enough of my own, thanks." I smiled sanguinely. "Now that we've established both of us need to work on our manners, is there anything else?"

"We're not done!" A fresh shower of saliva rained down. "I am not afraid of being single and I am not settling! Are you laughing at me?" Liz turned her attention to Sarah, who'd just given a brief snort of laughter.

"Why would I do that?" Sarah was all sweetness and innocence. "That would be rude."

Liz glared at her for a long moment, clearly not believing her, but when Sarah didn't suddenly crack and start begging Liz's forgiveness for laughing at her, she returned to chewing me out.

"You didn't have to be so mean to me. We're both adults and we should act like adults."

Sarah snorted with laughter again, but made no effort to hide it.

"Is that why you're whining?" Sarah asked Liz. "Take your own advice."

"I am not whining!" Liz stomped her foot angrily. "I am mad because Olivia was mean."

Sarah turned toward me. "Definitely acting like an adult, wouldn't you agree? The stomping…very mature. And whining about you being mean…very eloquently put."

"Vintage kindergarten. I feel like I'm five years old again." I held Liz's gaze while I spoke. "If your feelings were hurt because I called your delusions for what they are and rained on your celebration of your own importance and burst your bubble about marriage being all happiness and bliss, you're wasting my time so please take your pity party elsewhere."

"Marriage being happiness and bliss?" Sarah began laughing. "Oh, yeah, nothing but sunshine all the time! Jim never puts watching the game over spending time with me and he always listens and I only had to ask him once to stop belching 'you're welcome' when I say 'thank you'. Oh, and the sex is always fabulous. I have an orgasm every single time!" That set her off laughing again.

When Sarah started talking about sex, Liz's face became a bright red that turned to purple when Sarah mentioned orgasms. Smiling, I put an arm around Sarah.

"What wrong?" I asked Liz brightly. "Did Sarah say something that upset you? You're awfully flushed."

Liz, eyes wide, said, "You don't talk about your sex life in public!"

"We're not in public, we're in my parents' back yard and none of the neighbors are out, not that anyone would be surprised to hear Sarah say the sex isn't fab for her all the time, since they're all married." I shrugged. "It's not like she's talking about BDSM or anything. You do know what BDSM is, right?" I asked in response to Liz's confused expression.

"What is it? A kind of birth control?"

"No." 'Oh. My. Gosh. Don't. Laugh.' I bit my tongue hard. 'She's twenty-six and thinks BDSM is a type of birth control.'

"You've never heard of bondage and sadomasochism?" Sarah was incredulous. "What rock have you been living under?" She sighed. "Ever heard of the Kama Sutra?"

Liz thought for a moment. "It's some Indian book about love, right?"

"You could say that." The urge to laugh was becoming harder to control. "It talks about different sexual positions—and has drawings—and other ways to obtain pleasure and satisfaction during sexual intercourse."

Liz turned deep purple again. "How do you know about these things? I can understand why Sarah would, but Olivia…what have you been doing?"

"Having her head filled with dirty, dirty thoughts by wicked, wicked people," Sarah told her darkly.

I leaned against Sarah. "I've done just fine filling my own head, thanks. The internet's been a huge help, with all the stuff they didn't mention in health class. Like ben wa balls." At that, I lost it and it was Sarah's turn to deal with Liz's profound naïveté of all things sexual.

Despite the fact she was going to be married, Liz proved incredibly resistant to our sullying her pure, virgin ears with filthy talk about sex.

"My mom will tell me everything I need to know," Liz proclaimed defensively. "I'm not interested in what perverts and deviants do."

"But it's so much fun!" Sarah remarked blithely.

"The Bible glorifies married sex, Liz," I told her, "so loosen up. Enjoying sex when you're married isn't a bad thing. Unless it's with someone other than your spouse, but that's a whole other discussion."

Liz clearly didn't believe me. "It does? Where?"

"Song of Solomon, or Song of Songs. A whole book of the Bible. It's a conversation between Solomon and his bride about how much they enjoy each other's bodies. He talks about her neck and breasts and thighs and—"

"Stop!" Liz had her hands on her ears. "There's no way something like that is in the Bible. I can't believe you, a Christian, would like about something like that, Olivia."

"And you know this because…why?" The irony was delicious. "Unlike you, I actually read my Bible on a regular basis. It's not just there for show, collecting dust on the living room bookshelf, like yours, if you even have one. You have chutzpah, acting like you know more than me. I'd be more than happy to go inside and get a Bible and you can look through it to see for yourself. I'll get you some salt, too, for when you have to eat your words with a side of crow." I stood up. "I'll be right back."

"Fine, fine, you're right," Liz admitted grudgingly. "Whatever. I'll talk to my mom and she'll tell me everything I need to know."

"Like lie back and think of England," Sarah snarked. "Or Canada, in your case."

"You—" I smacked Sarah's leg as I sat down"—are terrible. Don't ask," I told Liz, who was looking confused again.

"How do you know all this, Olivia? I didn't think Christians like you knew about sex."

Christians like me. Apparently, I'd missed the memo announcing there were now different types of Christians and I'd definitely missed the one letting me know I wasn't supposed to know anything about sex. It was a miracle God hadn't smote me yet, walking around and knowing about sex. The horror, knowing how babies were made! Thank God for Creasters like Liz to tell me how Christians were supposed to behave. I never would've figured it out on my own, going to church each Sunday and reading my Bible during the week. I was definitely going to enjoy setting Liz straight.

"It's not a mortal sin to know how babies are made, Liz. Where'd you ever get that idea? The media? They also say women need to have huge tits and the waist of a Barbie doll to be beautiful." Sarcasm and scorn, open throttle, full speed ahead. "Besides, even if it were a sin to know storks don't bring babies, I wasn't a Christian until I was seventeen and I don't live my life in some G-rated Christian bubble. I hear all sorts of stuff, including what my friends said over lunch one day about the best way to give a blowjob during lunch one day between classes. You have to be careful not to use your teeth at all." Liz's jaw went slack and Sarah's face was buried in my shoulder. I smiled as if nothing were amiss.

The key to shocking people was in the casual delivery, as if you were talking about the best way to display fresh-cut roses. It was a one-two punch. Shock 'em with the first, pause for a moment, then brightly say, "I look forward to getting married so I can finally start using what I know." If the person you were talking to were really uptight, like Liz was, that would be the end of conversation. Prudes went into mental overload at the thought of enjoying sex; you could practically see the smoke coming out of their ears. You could still shock less-uptight people, but you didn't fry their circuits and they usually smiled and were glad to know you weren't a moralistic prude who believed in lying there and thinking of England.

"So, where'd you get your ring?" Sarah asked Liz, breaking the silence.

Liz pulled her mouth closed. "Oh, um…I forget the name, but it was a mall jewelry store. Anthony and I went during my lunch break the day after he proposed to find a ring. It's a good thing I had a spare after my lunch or we'd really have had to rush."

"What's a spare?"

"A free period. I usually grade papers or whatever, but going for a ring was more important."

"Absolutely. Have to declare it to the world ASAP." I watched Liz's face to see how she'd react.

As I thought, her smile wilted and she looked at me suspiciously for a moment.

"What? You'd want everyone to know you were engaged. It's worth announcing. What'd you think I meant?" Sarah elbowed me in the side.

"Nothing. Anyway, there were so many gorgeous rings and I couldn't decide, and then Anthony asked if he could show me what he liked, and when he did, I loved it, too." She held out her left hand. "It has a matching wedding band and man's ring. We told the salesman what we wanted and he went in the back and they had our ring sizes so I got to try it on and it fit perfectly! It's like it's a sign or something!"

"A sign they had your sizes in stock," I said as I exhaled, leaning close to Sarah.

Liz, lost in her own world of bliss, was oblivious. "Then Anthony said they're made to last and the way he was looking at me, I knew he meant they would last, just like our marriage would!"

"Hopefully, it'll be death that parts you and nothing else." For once, it wasn't a huge strain to keep the sarcasm and sharp remarks in cheek, only a slight effort.

"What, are you saying we'll divorce?" Liz's face was all thunderclouds and accusations.

"Don't put words in my mouth. I said I hope your marriage lasts. About one quarter of all marriages end in divorce and I'd hate to see Francie go through that all over again, and I don't like to hear anyone's going through that kind of messy, painful split. The less pain people have to deal with, the better. The chance of divorce also becomes greater if one or both partners have been married once before."

"Therese walked out on him! He tried to make that marriage work!"

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly through my nose. I was not going to get into this. Not now. I was tired of dealing with her twisting what people said and putting words in my mouth and generally being a pain in the ass.

"Liz, shut up," I said calmly. "Just shut up and sit down and stop acting like everything someone says is an insult or proclamation of doom to come and stop acting like everyone's out to get you, because they're not. You stormed over here, got in my face, got in Sarah's face, called us deviants and perverts, and accused me of lying about what's in the Bible. Sarah tries to start a polite conversation and, twice—no three times, you went off on me because you read way more into what I said than I ever meant. I didn't bring up Therese, I didn't bring up his first marriage at all, and I never said anything about who I thought was at fault. I was quoting something I'd read somewhere, and that was part of defending myself against your second baseless attack."

"You were nasty to me earlier."

"And? You weren't exactly a paragon of pleasantness yourself, and it's hours later so why are you still fixated on something that's over and done? You've been all prickly and defensive since you got over here. Sarah and I have humored you and tried to be polite. I can't speak for her, but I know I'm not in the mood to have my head bitten off every time I say something, so either quit with the pissy attitude or get lost."

"She said it perfectly," Sarah echoed. "Act like an adult."

"Sorry," Liz said mulishly.

"Why you chose this particular ring?" Sarah, once again, extended the olive branch.

"I didn't want a diamond that was too small because then people would think Anthony couldn't afford a nice ring and he's not that poor, and he did say he liked this one." She examined her left hand, clearly in love with what she saw.

"Yeah, I don't want a really dinky stone, either, but I'm not hung up on the size. Sarah, did Jim get you a diamond?" I grabbed her left hand and lifted it up so I could see. "Nice."

"It's small." Liz's words, ripe with unspoken criticism, cut Sarah deep and I felt her stiffen beside me. "If that's what you like, then I—"

"Fuck off," Sarah said stiffly. "Get the fuck away from me, you pretentious bitch, or I'll use my small diamond to slice your fucking face open and make a big mess."

Liz tried to say something a few times, jaw flapping uselessly like a dying fish gasping for water to suck back over its gills. She looked at me, as if to ask me what to do.

"What? You heard her."

"Don't let her attack me," Liz pleaded in a small voice. "Please."

"You ever hear the phrase, 'Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God'?" Stupid git, crouched less than two feet away from a Very Pissed woman who'd promised to make hamburger of her face if she didn't get lost.

Liz nodded dumbly. "So?"

"You know what it means?" Without waiting for an answer, I continued, "It means if you've been told how not to end up hurt and you choose to ignore that, don't blame God when you end up in a world of pain. You brought it on yourself."

"This is no time for a Bible lesson, Olivia!"

"Get her out of here NOW," Sarah hissed through clenched teeth.

"Try replacing God's name with mine." Truly, God truly did look after fools and children. That she'd escaped serious harm while living in M'tig was proof. Even bugs knew not to stick around when there was a threat.

"Olivia, help! Don't let her attack me! HELP!"

"Liz, if she attacks you now, you have no one to blame but yourself. I am holding her arms, but if she pulls free, you're on your own."

Anthony came charging around the garage and straight down the hill toward his damsel (who'd chosen to remain) in distress. He made an amusing picture as his tall, gangly frame careened down the slope.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Anthony roared—or that's what I assumed he was trying for. It was very loud, whatever it was. "DON'T TOUCH HER!"

"I won't stop you if you want a chance at her," I remarked conversationally to Sarah. "I'm sure you can get a swipe at at least one cheek."

"With pleasure." Sarah lunged forward toward Liz, pulling free of the hold I had on her arms. Liz screamed as she fell backward, dragging Sarah down on top of her.