At the end of a night of drinking in bars with his buddies, Jordan pulls into their driveway, parks his truck, and crosses the path to their front door. It had been a stupid evening. They'd hit a couple of bars, hung with some girls Shane knows, done some shots, downed some beers, played some pool. At some point, one of the women they'd been hanging with had found her way to settling in beside Jordan. She was playing it cool, keeping it casual, keeping it friendly and laid back. Having no reason not to, Jordan had kept the nothing conversation going, but then she'd reached her hand out to his. Worse, she'd used that voice, that voice he's always hated (but so much more so since his being with Kathy); that voice women use in a heightened octave to simultaneously mother and condescend, to feign innocence while calculating a conquest. So false, and too cunning, nothing natural about it. Unabashedly forward and overly familiar she had touched his hand, tilted her head just so, and smiling in just that singular way, had used that fucking voice on him: "You have a daughter?"
His brow had creased and furrowed by instinct. "Huh?" He drank his beer.
She'd let her lashes bat and flutter brightly as she looked at him — too collegial, too ready to make a hit. "Someone said you have a daughter?" Her lashes batted and her full lips, nude and polished, parted just slightly, like some kind of alluring sophisticate, like no doubt she knew exactly the look she was throwing him after orchestrating it just so in a mirror countless times at home.
Jordan had cleared his throat, "Yeah, I do."
"Aw; that's so sweet." Again with that fucking voice that shuts down any kind of real interaction and makes it all about getting off, in some stale prescribed manner she's come to believe men want to get off with. She's smiled and flirted her hair. He watched with detachment her measured move of lowering her eyes, wetting her lips, and then looking right back up at him. He guessed it wasn't half bad, for that sort of a move, but he was there to drink and hang with his buddies, and even a better move than that would not have tempted him. She'd kept talking, thinking she was making headway, thinking use his kid as foreplay would get her anywhere.1 "And… you're not married?"
"No."
Her fingers then touched his. "You know, I was thinking…"
Having endured more than enough of it, Jordan'd pulled back his hand and stated measuredly, "This isn't happening. I live with my girl." He rose and said, "Nice meeting you," though he hadn't said it quite like it was. He finished his drink, dropped an ice cube from his mouth back into the glass, and set it down. "Have a good night." He had started to walk away but then looked at her. "Don't do that. Don't use a guy's child like that."
He'd never thought at twenty-eight he'd be tired of being aggressively hit on, but more than bored with it, which he is, he finds it irritating. Bordering on offensive. He can't believe how much things 've changed. And now entering his home, the one he'd built with Katherine for their little sleeping girl who's just now learning to take her first steps, he is tired of the world and the silly desperate dirty people in it. He shuts the door behind him and breathes. Seeing the lights, he knows she'll still be up, and as he walks through the foyer her calls out to her, "Hey."
"Hellooo," Katherine answers genially, but a little distractedly from her place in the armchair were she's cozily ensconced with a book. "How was your night?"
Shrugging off and laying down his jacket and his keys, Jordan quietly watches her read. He blinks. Then smiles to himself. "I think you should marry me."
Katherine's eyes don't move from her page. "Alright."
"Really," he tells her.
Katherine marks her page with her index finger, closes the book around it and looks up, "Okay."
Jordan studies her then determines she meant it. "Good. I need some, whut'dya call it? — Bling."
Katherine repositions herself in the chair and smiles warmly at him. "You want a ring."
"I do." Jordan doesn't need a ring to tell him he is with Katherine. He doesn't need a ring or a sheet of paper, and even having those things he knows doesn't mean anything in itself; his father had had both, both times, neither of his marriages lasted. Paper and gold do not keep people together. Not alone at least. In that house with his two girls in the four-walled world of theirs, he needs nothing more than them and their life to feel like family; marriage had never seemed necessary. But it's when out in the world that he wants an outward statement to others. He'd made his statement on that first bike ride. Again on the first peach trip. And with the move, and with Gracie, and the house. Choice after choice he has chosen first her and then them, and he did all that without jewelry or a certificate, but if the world needs to see something to acknowledge it, then he'll do the ceremony, he'll say the words, and he'll don a band of gold. He moves toward her. "Do you?" He smiles at her, a glint in his eye, "Let me see that finger." Jordan takes her left hand and pulls her out of her chair. He turns her hand around in his, kissing her left ring finger.
Kathy smiles, "Gonna be your wife."
"My beautiful, beautiful, " he kisses her, "gorgeous," he slips his hand up her sides, inside her blouse, "dangerously sexy," he kisses her neck, then moves down to her belly, lifting her blouse just slightly to kiss below her naval, "mother of my child," he looks at her, "wife."
Katherine pulls him to their bedroom. "Come be my man."
Heading back to his car Ben stops before unlocking it and leans over the roof to Jordan waiting on the passenger side. "Is this because of Gracie?" They'd met for lunch and Jordan had mentioned the engagement, such as it is. Jordan'd expected congratulations, which he'd received, but he hadn't expected residual incredulity.
Jordan stops, "Are you for real?" He looks at his long-time almost-brother. "Did I ask you that?"
Ben shakes his head to negate the implication, "Not the same thing. This shit," by which he means his own wedding ring, "was determined in tenth grade."
"Didn't stop you from tying the knot after the baby."
"Circumstantial."
"You really doubting me?"
"Jordan, you know I love Kate, and you know I love that little girl, but you're my brother, and I'm looking out for you. I don't want to see you do this just because you think it's the right thing to do and you want to be a good guy."
"You think I'm not really in this? That's what you've been thinking all this time?"
Ben looks at him. "Actually, no."
"Good, ya know. 'Cuz, right now, I don't know why I didn't do this day one."
"Go ahead then," he smiles. "You'll be great."
Sometime the next week Jordan comes home, drops his keys and sunglasses and passes into the kitchen, calling out as he does so, "Hey."
"Hey," Katherine calls from the living room. "Come in here a sec."
Beer in hand Jordan pops his head in, "Hey." He smiles at the sight of his daughter crawling over the rug in a pink rosebud cotton romper, "What's happening."
On the sofa Kathy looks up from a mass of handmade cards and craft supplies — rubber cement, buttons, scissors, ribbon and paper. "I'm working on the invitations." From beneath the pile she grabs a yellow legal pad and refers to the list, "What about Ben's mom, or sisters?" Jordan thinks about it; Lisa was really close with her in-laws, and they had reached out to him back when he was in middle school, but it'll be a small event and he doesn't think they'd take it the wrong way if they weren't included. He shakes his head. "Okay." She strikes the names. "Does…" she refers to her notes, "Brandon have a person we should be inviting?"
"I dunno. Don't think so."
"Well, can you ask? We can just put him down as a plus one, or—"
Jordan pulls himself off the door frame he'd been leaning on and moves tiredly into the room. "Why is he coming?"
"I don't know; you work together, you're friends. He's just one person — or two — he's not pushing the number over."
Jordan drinks his beer. "He's not family."
"Okay …" She crosses the name off the list. "Speaking of which," Katherine lifts her eyes to him, "you're dad. What are we doing about that?" She waits while Jordan shuts his eyes and thinks this over. "You, don't have to decide right now."
"No." He opens his eyes. "He's not coming."
Katherine nods soberly. "Okay." And without skipping a beat she moves on. "Angela?"
Jordan thinks again. "Sure. Yeah."
Kathy hands him the list. "Anyone else?"
Quickly glancing it over, he hands it back. "Tino's mom. I've got the address." Still focusing on Katherine he holds out his index fingers for Gracie to grab as she first squats and then tries to stand, "Need help?"
"Dinner? I kind of dropped the ball."
"Got it." Holding onto his finger Grace bounces her knees. Jordan looks up, "What about Riley's bro — Elk?"
Concentrating on the gluing she's working on, she considers, "I'd say, 70% chance he'll come if we invite him. 100% if we don't ask him he'll be cool."
"Yeah, but do you want him."
She wipes glue from her hands and looks at him. "I want Riley. And you. And Gracie. And Lisa and Ben and Adam. And Tino. And my dad and Tom. And Jeremy."
"That's pretty much us plus seven; we can keep it there."
"But then there's Shane. And Sara. And Sam and Dej. And Nate and Jesse."
"I got it."
"Somewhere between seven and thirty."
"I'm good with that." He walks back to the kitchen, stooped over with Grace toddling between his legs, clamped to his two index fingers. "Thirty's good."
Kathy looks out the wall of windows into their backyard for reference, "I think we can hold that many."
"Definitely."
Ben and Lisa take them to dinner and out to the clubs as a sort of party of four engagement party. Lisa, as she is want to be when it comes to events in her brother's life, is overly emotional. Jordan might describe her as 'triumphant.' Which might have bothered him if the context were anything other than what it is. As it stands he is quietly pleased to be hugged, cajoled, and congratulated, feeling just a little less than triumphant himself. He is happy to be there with Katherine, polished in her just-so dark bangs and side-swept curls and her stiffened black silk mini dress and black stockings and heels. He's happy to be there in that moment when there were times in his childhood when he never could have seen this future for him and his sister. He downs his champagne, squishes his girl's cheek with a kiss, and enjoys the night.
Angela answers her phone with a raspy voice, "Hel-lo?"
"Lose your voice?"
"Yeah…" her ears are plugged and she didn't look before she'd answered. She can't quite place the voice.
"It's Jordan."
"Oh," she smiles. "He-y—" The crack in her voice dampens the enthusiasm her response would have otherwise displayed.
"You sound horrible," he chuckles. "So what's going on?"
This is something she's never liked about Jordan's phone call manners. He calls you up, gets you to talking and never says much. She tells him a little about work, a little about where she's living now and the friends they once had in common. Jordan nods, "Sounds good."
"You?"
"Actually," he scratches his stubbled jaw, "I've got some news."
"So, something motivated this call," she smiles.
"Yeah, uh, you'll be getting something in the mail, but… I thought I'd call you first."
"You're getting married."
"Yes." Jordan purses his lips in wait.
"That's wonderful. Jordan. Really. Congratulations."
"It's gonna be small. Very small. Her family, some friends, Lisa n' Ben, Shane, Nate, Tino — allegedly — and…" he leaves it open.
"Do you have a date?"
"May 6."
"Ok-ay," she smiles at her voice crack; Angela tucks her hair, "Can I get back to you?"
Jordan clears his throat, "Yeah."
"It's just—"
"It's fine." There's a pause. "Talk to you soon?"
"Yeah" Angela nods. "Jordan? It's great. I'm terribly happy for you. For all of you."
Late in the night, bundled in sweaters and scarves, Jordan walks home with Katherine after a party at their friend Henry's place. Her arm slung over his shoulder, they walk together, laughing in each other's arms. He has been drinking but is not drunk.
Katherine squeezes his neck and smiles into him, "Henry's planning your bachelor party." She sees Jordan roll his eyes. "What, you don't want one?"
"Those things are lame."
"It's a bunch of boys drinking and committing mild acts of mayhem — that's what you love." He suddenly kisses her, for a while.
When he finally releases her and pulls back, he studies her lips, her eyes, her smile. Then a wicked knowing look takes the place of his dreamy expression and he twinkles as he asks, "Why? What're you doing?"
Katherine kisses him, "I'm planning a heist."
"Good," he nods as he starts walking them again, "finally get a decent car." He adjusts his black plastic aviators he's inexplicably wearing. "Tino's showing up a week or two early." The wedding is a month away, by that time the weather should comfortably accommodate a backyard party.
Katherine nods, "Okay. Lisa?" Lisa and her family had since moved to Portland for a small business venture Ben was pursuing with a cousin.
"That Thursday."
"They're all staying with us?"
"Tino, at least partly. He'll probably stop in at his mom's an' maybe Shane's. Lis'll be at Sam 'n Colleen's." They turn the corner to their block. "Wait, so are you throwing on a skirt and going bridal all over the Pittsburgh bar scene?"
"You'd like to see that," she smirks.
He glances at her as they walk up their front path, "Not as great when you're not drinking?"
She links her arm in his, "And not totally depressingly desperate." Katherine pulls Jordan to her then moves into him, leaning him semi-seductively against the front door. "You're watching the Gracie girl and we're going to Utah to raft. Four days, three nights, on the Colorado river."
"I wouldn't know for sure," he smirks as he moves to almost kiss her, "but do your plans and my plans balance out?"
She kisses him and nods. "They do."
Jordan Catalano's bachelor party, two nights before the wedding, starts off with drinks at Shane's sparse apartment. It's ended up just Tino, Shane and Jordan, which, to Jordan's satisfaction makes it less of a wedding thing and more of a low-key reunion. Tino, legs outstretched, has made himself comfortable atop Shane's kitchen table, boots and all, and sits there, back against the wall, rolling cigarettes and absently flicking a deck of cards, one by one across the room and into the kitchen sink. Nursing a beer and leaning back in a rickety aluminum kitchen chair, Jordan's also got his legs, crossed casually at the ankles, propped up, as he browses through the pictures on Tino's phone.
"So, uh," Shane straightens up, "where's Ben-jamín?"
Jordan drinks his beer. "Couldn't make it."
"They're in town though, right?"
"Yeh," Jordan nods. "Got in today." Tino tucks a cigarette behind his ear and otherwise occupied sits out this conversation.
"And no Nate Dog?" Shane asks, watching passively as Tino deliberately flings card after card into his dish-filled sink.
"Working," Tino offers, never looking away from his target. "Not getting' here till day of. But," he arches his brow, "Ben…"
"Lis—" Jordan reaches out and dispassionately knocks Tino's flying ace out of its flight path with his beer bottle "—didn't want him involved."
"What the—?" Animated for the first time and behaving as though he's been grossly offended, Tino makes a face and grabs his phone from his friend and dials. He waits for a 'hello' then: "Lisa Catalano!"
On the other end Lisa's entirely unfazed to be getting a call from Tino Mourlot, and through the years has taken it in stride whenever he pops into her life without warning."He-y Tino," she drawls warmly.
For dramatic impact Tino's decided this exchange has no room for opening pleasantries, "Let your husband out of the house and let Benny come to your brother's bachelor party. Damn it." He listens to her retort then laughs, and holds the phone away to relay the verdict, "She says your whole life has been a bachelor party." Jordan smirks and Tino returns to the phone call. "Lisa: Get. Over. Here." Jauntily he sticks an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth and smiles, "I've decided: tonight's the night I'm going to get just drunk enough to finally let you have my way with me." He listens, "_ Uh huh. _ Got it. _ Mm, hm, _ You bet." He hangs up. "Yeah; they're not coming." Jordan sniggers silently, he could've saved Tino the time with that one.
Meanwhile, Shane's getting antsy. "Okay fellas," he bounces on the balls of his feet, "let's get on this. Clubs?"
Mildly disinterested, Jordan yawns and scratches the back of his head, "Nothin' with women."
"Aww," Shane fawns, "afraid of a little temptation?" He cocks an eyebrow in Jordan's direction, "That's not why you're getting married?"
"A ring," Tino needlessly counsels, "and a government-issued paper ain't gonna change behavior, kid. 'Less those bands I'm carrying round for you 're made of somethin' stronger 'an gold."'
Jordan's feet drop to the floor, "'s not about temptation; it's about respect. I'm with Kay. And our family." He drinks. "I'm just giving that its due."
"Okay," Shane prompts again, already bored with the conversation he'd started, "so what's the plan?"
"Don't look at him," Tino means Jordan, "he's just along for the ride." Dropping the remains of the deck Tino swipes the beer from Jordan's hand and finishes it. "Okay," he dictates. "Number one, catch a buzz. Number two, smoke all the cigarettes J Man's been missing these past years. Number three, get punk in drublic. Four, TP."
Tino hops off the table and produces a bottle of expensive champagne, cranks the music, and whacks the top of the glass bottle with one well-angled strike with a kitchen knife. He chugs the bubbling beverage then passes it off and stands back as the boys hoot and holler, drink, and rev themselves up.
…
Two bars, many cigarettes, a rowdy stop at a supermarket, and a quarter of the way through Tino's bottle of Gran Patron Platinum later, they, Tino in his tailored suit jacket and jail-striped tee, Shane in his cut-off tank and Carrera Safari sunglasses, and Jordan in his plaid button-down and ubiquitous faded navy hoodie, for old time's sake go to work TP-ing Shane's dad's house. For as many years as this talent has laid latent they do themselves proud. And for good measure and really just for the hell of it, Shane lets them into his younger brother Zeke's apartment and they TP it as well. Before leaving, Tino, soaked from at some point in the antics getting caught in sprinklers, pilfers one of Zeke's shirts for the remainder of the night. The plaid shirt, predominantly fuchsia with blocks of white and grey, revives Tino and he later lifts a pair of silver, orange-pink lensed Elvis aviators from the 7-Eleven Shane stops at to pick up snacks and chewing tobacco.
…
Late in the night, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, Jordan, drunk but not totally wasted, pulls out his cell and dials home. Katherine, home now for a week from her rafting trip with her brother and six of her best friends from camp and college, reaches to the bedside table and answers. "Having fun?"
"Hey Baby," Jordan smiles dumbly into the phone he's holding out below his mouth.
"Getting' into some shenanigans? _ Where are you?"
Jordan's lips smack as he answers. "Tattoo shop."
"No you're not."
Jordan leans back in the vinyl sofa in the waiting area up front in the tattoo shop he and Shane and Tino found their way into, "Of course I am."
"Uh oh. 'Of course, you are.' _ What's the plan?"
"Gettin' my 'bling' done."
Katherine needs a moment to translate this. "You're inking your ring?"
"'Inking,'" he interrupts with a laugh. "You're cute." His eyes start to droop.
"Are you sure?"
Jordan nods stintingly. "You bet."
"Are the boys there with you? Wait— What time is it?"
Jordan rubs at his eyes. "It's late."
"Don't all the shops close before ten?"
"Tino knows a guy."
"Of course. And where's he?"
"In the chair." He rubs his eyes again. "Getting his grandpa's initials."
"You're sounding a little— Shane and Tino are cool with this?"
Jordan takes a swig from his flask, "Got approval an' ev'rything. _ Did I wake you?"
Kathy snuggles the baby in her arms, "Somebody else did. We're nursing."
Jordan smiles at the image in his head of the two girls snuggled in their warm downy bed. "I gotta go. I love you."
"We love you. Taxis."
"Yeah." Jordan hangs up and leans back. Shutting his eyes he enjoys the way the universe spins around him.
"You're up, broheim." Jordan cracks open his eyes to Tino standing above him. "Wanna wait till you're really wearing the ring? Bound by law an' all that?"
"F it," Jordan rises. Tino walks him back to the chair. "Do it now. Just do it thin." He shakes hands again with the artist and takes a seat.
In short time Jordan has the narrow outline of a ring band around his ring finger. He opted not to fill it in and he shows off his double straight lines in a near-offensive gesture.
"I don't even recognize you," Tino chuckles warmly, to which Jordan responds with a fake-out punch in the face with his newly-inked left hand. "Well that'll show me," he smiles wryly as he shepherds his boys out the shop.
The day of the wedding, Katherine, in her frilless white satin dress, steps outside the house to find her brother perched atop the seats in the vintage black convertible he's rented while in town. Tom's fastening his cufflinks when he squints into the sunlight when his sister in her pretty knee-length wedding dress approaches. "Who's gettin' married?" he queries rhetorically.
"I am," she chimes and swishes her skirt.
"Well, you're dressed for it. Lookin' pretty fancy Kat."
She looks fondly over the car that's a near match to the '68 forest green Mercedes their mother's father used to drive. The car their mother and father had driven away in the day they were married. "I love that you're driving this car. I can't believe you found it."
Still squinting he glances it over as well, "Wrong color."
"It's so close though. Does Dad love it?"
"It's hard to say." He reaches back and grabs his wayfarers from the driver's seat. "It's killing the air. You're an eco-minded tree-huggin' young mother; you're supposed to care about these things. Where is the bambina?"
"Jordan's sister's got her. Have you met Lisa yet?"
Tom shakes his head, "Just the husband."
"Ben. He's great. So cute with Grace." Tom climbs out of the car and she takes his arm as she walks him into the house. "Where's the old man?"
"Papa's taking a walk. _ He's missing her." Katherine nods, she knew this day would be hard on him. "He'll buck up before it's time. He's happy."
…
"Fitzy, stop primping." In his open at the collar pressed white dress shirt, grey slacks, and striking belt, Tino smiles resignedly from the chair he's reclined in. Ankle casually crossed at his knee, elbow on knee, chin rested atop his knuckles, Tino sits slightly removed himself from the action of the room, reigning over the scene as he always has. "The pretty girl came with you, 's a good chance she's going home with you." Nate Fitzpatrick, home from Chicago where he's working as an accountant at a major firm and helping out his father's ailing mother, Tino, Shane, and Jordan are in Jordan and Katherine's bedroom dressing and drinking beers before the ceremony. "Ya pull well, Fitz, the girl's a looker."
Pulling on his suit coat, Nate looks once more in Katherine's mirror and straightens his tie. "I like her so far," he says wryly. "Been eight months."
"G-ma like 'er?" Tino inquires as he bites into an apple he'd pinched from the kitchen.
"She does. The whole family does."
"Oh shit," Tino shakes his head with a rueful smile. "Everything's coming together. And now this guy's gettin' married."
"Catalano, ya cool?" Shane nods at Jordan who's deciding between a tie or no tie. "Ya seemed cool the other night, but," he points out for humor, "you were pretty lit."
"JC's alway's cool," Tino brags sedately, a pleased, magnanimous smile on his face. "When is my boy never cool?" Letting the conversation move around him, Jordan opts for no tie and two buttons undone, then moves into the bathroom.
There's a light wrap on the door and Ben steps in, "Hey boys, getting ready?"
"Benny!" Shane rises clasps him in a handshake hug. "Good ta see ya. How's the expatriate?"
"Portland's not exactly another world."
"Isn't it?" Nate throws in.
"This one," Ben slaps hands into a shake and fist bump with the still reclining Tino, "'s the world traveler."
"Didn't ya hear, I repatriated."
"Well, meet what ya missed while you were away." Ben moves forward his two-year-old son. The boy, dressed in jeans, and blue checked shirt and yellow sweater, looks exactly like his mother, though the shape of his mouth looks a little like Jordan's.
Tino leans forward in his chair with a grin, "Yeah, I know Adam. How's it going, dude?" Adam smiles but in the moment does not feel like speaking.
"Hey Kid," Ben nods at Jordan who's reemerged and high-fived his nephew, "got something for you." He hands over the small green and white boutonnière.
From his chair where he's playing with Adam, Tino remarks, "I remember the last time you wore one of those. What? Seventeen? Prom." He sighs. "Where the hell is Bryn Fox in my life? Why did we break up?" he laments good-naturedly.
"He's losing it," Shane observes. "Drink some more T!" he calls as he drinks more of his own beer. Of everyone there, Shane's the least formally dressed. In dark jeans a shirt and leather jacket, he's as dressed up as he feels 's necessary for a day in Jordan Catalano's backyard. With no grooming to do, no sage wisdom to impart, and no official duties in the day's events, Shane's chiefly there to drink and to hang. "So Benjamin, you're a married stiff, got any advice for Catalano?"
Ben glances at his brother-in-law, and though he hadn't planned on playing the sage, paternal role, in the moment he does find he has a piece of advice. "Be present."
"'Present'?" Shane repeats incredulously. "I'm present, never seen that pan out."
"There's a little more to it than the hour you spend getting her into bed and the hour you spend with her in bed," Ben amends.
"In bed, in car, in elevator—" Shane recounts for a laugh.
The conversation's interrupted with another light knock on the door. It opens and Thomas looks in. "Hey."
"Hey Tom," Ben turns around and smiles.
"Hey. Uh," Jordan makes introductions, "you've met Ben Shaw, this is his son Adam. And Nate Fitzpatrick, Tino Mourlot, and Shane Trudenowski. Old friends,"
"Good to meet ya." He shakes hands with Shane who's the closest. "I think I've been sent to bond." The boys let a beat skip then invite him in.
…
In the living room where early arrivers are gathering, Riley kisses her husband and leaves Jeremy to find Katherine, "Gotta find my girl."
"Say 'hi'." Jeremy mingles a little, then steps out into the garden with a glass of lemonade as Riley moves through the house to find Katherine up in Grace's room.
She taps lightly on the door, "Hey Sweetie."
"Hey," Katherine beams. "Have I told you how much I love you?" She holds her in her arms. "You look like a goddess."
"It's that healthy outdoor living." Riley reaches down and scoops up the baby, "Hi Gracie. You've grown so much." She kisses the toddler's soft downy head multiple times as Katherine reapplies her lip-gloss.
"She's walking now."
"I saw that." Riley sits and bounces a standing Gracie on her knees. "I predicted this you know. The first time you brought him to the farm, I said this was going to happen."
"I know."
"I'm really happy for you, gorgeous. Is that the headband?" She means the thin crystal and beaded strip of silk Katherine has tied in her hair.
"Mm, hm."
"That's so nice..." she reflects as she snuggles the little girl in the white garden sundress in her lap, "your mother's dress."
"It was my grandmother's dress; Mom wore it also. It's aged and has yellowed, but I salvaged a piece of it."
"She would love it." Riley makes play faces with the baby. "How's your dad?"
"I think he's okay. Did you see Tom's car?"
"Yeah, Tommy showed us the pictures."
Katherine turns from the mirror and the makeup and really looks at her best friend. "I'm so glad you're here."
Across the room, Riley winks at her and smiles. "So," she asks, bouncing and smiling at the baby, "who gets this little darling during this event?"
"Uh..." Katherine takes a big gulp of her ice water, "plan is Lisa's going to have her."
"Really?" Riley snuggles more, "'cuz I'm pretty sure I can carry a bouquet and a Gracie," she smiles. "Anyway, I brought you something." She hands over a small brooch of tufted white feathers. "'Something borrowed.' In case you don't have that covered."
Kathy's touched, "Thank you."
"It's from the fascinator I wore at mine."
"Ooh yeaah," she smiles fondly. "Thank you."
"Well, you said your dress was plain, so I thought a little something would be fun and very you." She rises and takes the piece and pins it before her right shoulder on one end of the bodice. She stands back and admires. "Perfect."
…
Jordan steps outside the house for a quiet moment before everything starts. He spots Tom, leaning against his vintage car smoking a cigarette. Deciding it'd be less than kosher to ignore his soon-to-be brother-in-law on his wedding day, Jordan approaches.
"Hey, man," Tom nods and offers a cigarette. Jordan hesitates to take one, then shakes his head. "Kathy wouldn't like it," he surmises.
Jordan cracks a smile, "Wouldn't want her thinking I had to break a two-year moratorium just to say 'I do.'" Tom nods his head and chuckles. Jordan looks around, "Your dad here?"
"Yeah," he exhales. "Yours?"
"No; he's not here."
Tom's brow arches, "You haven't had a ciggy in two years?"
"Uh," Jordan hedges, "mostly."
"The house looks great," he observes coolly. "You did a good job." Jordan looks and nods. Tom takes another drag, "She gonna change her name? Kate. She gonna be Katie Catalano?"
"I'm not sure."
"Really?" Tom looks at him, a little thrown that Jordan doesn't know this. "Or," he offers offhandedly, "she could hyphenate."
Jordan takes a sideways glance in his direction, "You okay with this?"
"Huh?"
"The getting married? You're cool with it?"
Tom holds away his cigarette and looks Jordan straight on. "Brother, you been married for a long time. There's just something to sign today." He lets that sink in, then adds, "You're a good guy; you're a good dad to my niece." He takes a drag, "Seriously though? I love my sister; Katherine's everything to me." He exhales and clarifies, "We're cool." Tom shrugs, then holds out his hand for Jordan to shake, "Keep her happy and we'll be cool."
Jordan takes his hand and nods. "Okay."
…
Right before the ceremony as Riley stands in place chatting lightly with Katherine's father, Lisa finds Katherine and Grace. Lovingly she cups Katherine's face, then hugs her and kisses her cheek. "You ready?"
Katherine takes hers and Riley's flowers from the ceramic jug on the bookshelf and nods. "Let's do it."
"It's a beautiful day, you've arranged this so gorgeously. Very you. The both of you." Lisa reaches for her niece and set's her on the ground and holds her hand for balance when she wriggles to be free. "He loves you, you know. Madly. And I've never seen him this happy."
"That makes it two." Kathy kisses Lisa, bends down and kisses Grace, takes a breath then walks to the back door to meet Riley and her father.
In the backyard, the small congregation of family and friends-as-close-as-family are seated or standing in arrangements of a collection of a variety of chairs pulled from the kitchens, dining rooms and living rooms of everyone they know in the city. The effect is eclectic, charming and unaffected. The sky is bright, the air is fragrant in Kathy's garden, and the crowd is sharply, hiply dressed for a spring afternoon wedding. Ben plays the piano, accompanied by Shane on the electric guitar for a very sunny, 1960's California feel, and Riley walks towards Jordan, Tino, and the justice of the peace. Behind her comes Katherine and her father, who's saying something to her to make her laugh as they approach. Jordan smiles and takes Katherine's hand; she kisses his. The vows are happy and filled with little laughs and knowing, welcoming, accepting smiles of partnership. Jordan can't wait to kiss her and be hers, and just like the symbol of the ring is already there on his finger, she is already there in his heart and in his life.
When the officiate presents the newly married couple their response is ecstatic and the grins cannot be stifled. After mugging in the initial uproar of euphoria, Jordan soberly takes his wife's hand and leads her through the crowd to greet, hug, and spend time with their guests. Usually one with an ironic quip to fling at her, Jordan has nothing right now, and when he leans in to kiss the side of her head, all he has to whisper is, "Wife."
Below hanging white paper lanterns and strung twinkle lights, an assortment of kitchen tables and dining sets covered with white or cream or yellow linens and freshly cut greens and orange and yellow flowers, provide spaces for guests to sit and talk and in time to eat a meal together.
As people mingle Jordan finds his big sister. She smiles at him, "Hey Babe."
"Come're," he pulls her in and keeps her close as he plants a lengthy and heartfelt kiss on her cheek. "Love ya, Catalano."
"You're a good boy, J. You always were."
"I don't know about that."
"Well," she confesses, "me either, actually. Just seemed like the right thing to say."
"How about: 'Congratulations; let's drink'?"
"Even better."
There are cocktails and games of horseshoes and a makeshift stage set with a piano, drums, a multitude of guitars, including Jordan's first acoustic, as well as a banjo, ukulele, and two harmonicas. Through the day various people take turns playing different instruments and in different formations.
Sunglasses now on, Jordan stops in the crowd and exclaims when he sees her, "There she is!" Nancy Mourlot, beautiful as ever with sun-kissed natural waves and a creamy, gauzy confection of a deep v-neck summer sheath dress smiles at her almost-son. "Hey, Kiddo."
"You look amazing," Jordan observes as he grins and drinks his julep.
"Always the flirt," she smiles. "Come're," she hugs him. "You look great. Congratulations."
Jordan drinks again. "Thank you for coming."
"Always." She kisses him, "I'm proud of you."
Food is served, people eat and talk, meeting new friends and visiting with old. Katherine's ethereal bohemian friends with long bangs and braided tresses look as though they've stepped out of some Parisian flower garden. Jordan's buddies jest and kid and drink and laugh. Tom reconnects with a girl he'd known through Katherine in college, Shane chats up a girl he'd like to know through Katherine tonight, and Nate finds some private moments with his date. Jacob Reese, Katherine's dad, catches up with Jeremy and Riley, meets Nancy and Lisa, and enjoys his time with his granddaughter.
"Mr. W!" Tino stops and claps his hand into a one-armed hug.
Wilson half chokes on his wine, "Tino!"
Tino looks his old administrator over. He knew Jordan and he'd been hanging out, but he hadn't seen him since his days at Liberty (few as they were). "How's it going?"
"Everything's good," he nods with a warm grin, more than pleased to be a party to this reunion. Wilson looks about, "Our son's around here somewhere..." His attention returns to Tino, "You?"
Tino shrugs, "You know, livin' life." He pops a hors d'oeuvre in his mouth and, absently looking around, taking in all of the occasion, nods at Wilson, "You ever think you'd be here? At Catalano's wedding?" Wilson grunts appreciatively. Tino gestures and grins, "This the wife?"
"Samia," she moves in closer and holds out her hand.
Tino shakes it with enthusiasm. "Excellent."
"This," Wilson presents, "is the Tino Mourlot."
In recognition of the name and the legends that precede it, Samia can't help but let loose a burst of warm laughter to which Tino smiles in bashful bemusement, "What's that about?"
Chuckling in response, Wilson makes an effort to both excuse and quiet his wife; "She's heard stories."
Tino's hand raises in a boy scout's pledge of honesty, "None of it's true. Or," he reconsiders, "maybe all of it. I dunno."
This time it's Wilson who laughs. He finishes his wine then gestures with his glass, "That Shane and Nathan?"
"It is." Tino turns his head and calls, "Fitz!" Nate stops and he and Shane come over to join the reunion.
Returning from the buffet with a plate of food and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, Nancy stops and touches the back of her hand gently on the shoulder of a blonde woman with an effortless updo and a pretty slate and mocha dress that shimmers in the light. "I know you," she smiles. Angela, with polished makeup, warm red lips and dangling golden earrings, turns and smiles, not quite sure who she is looking at. "Nancy," is the smiled introduction. "T—"
But there's no need to continue; Angela nods and finishes the sentence for her, she knows exactly who this is, "—Tino's mom." She wonders how after all these years, and never having actually met, she'd recognized her so easily, but then she'd known who she was as well. Old ties last a long time.
Nancy leans forward and kisses her cheek, "It's been a long time waiting to meet you, darling."
Jordan holds Gracie with Katherine by his side as they stand for pictures before the white dessert table. Among the variety of homemade white-frosted cakes and meringue cookies displayed at different heights on Kay's great-great aunt's collection of milk glass cake stands, and single stem vases of white blossoms, stand the foot tall letters of 'J + K' Jordan had carved from woodblocks.
In the late afternoon sun, Tommy finds a moment alone with his sister. He hands her a glass of sparkling water and smiles that cocky, loving smile that is just for her. "Dearest."
She touches his hand as she accepts the glass, "Darling."
"So," he drinks his vodka tonic, and biting on a cube of ice lifts his glass to her, "happy wedding."
"Thank you," she bows her head in friendly conversation.
"You happy?"
"Miserable." Kathy smiles into the tree branches above her and the rays of sunshine glimmering through. In a moment more she looks back at her brother. "You like him, right?"
"I like his friends," he teases.
As the sun sets Jordan and Katherine share their first dance, to her lifelong favorite (though the imagery of untimely death is admittedly unfitting for the occasion), The Smiths' "There is a Light That Never Goes Out." Below the warm yellow light of the twinkling string lights, they dance also to Stevie Nicks' duet "Leather and Lace" and with others joining to Tom Petty's "Don't Do Me Like That."
Desserts are served and champagne and spirits poured and the guests gather before the stage for toasts. And Jordan holds his wife's waist below the broad tree raining glowing light down upon them.
Jeremy, glass in hand, takes the stage and leans in toward the mic. "Hey everybody — I'm Jeremy, for those who don't know me; I've met some of you for the first time this weekend — Ben, Lisa, their son Adam. I've known Katherine for forever; she and Riley — my beautiful, beautiful wife," he lifts his drink to her, "— and I went to camp together. And, I remember, I couldn't believe my luck that I had two such, smart, funny, gorgeous women in my life as I grew up, through junior high and high school; we didn't live close, but we stayed close — and this was before the internet and no penalty long distance. Anyway, it has always been such a gift to have Katherine in my life — from camp, to college, and after. She stood up with Riley at our wedding, she comes every summer to help on our farm, and then one year she brought Jordan. The month they stayed with us we all saw them fall in love. And over time we came to know, and like, and love Jordan. (We were wary at first, it didn't seem like the universe could match two such disgustingly good-looking people and not have something up her sleeve.) But Kathy's always been family to Riles and I, and then Jordan became a part of that, and then Gracie. And what's been great about watching Kathy and Jordan is just how they opened their lives to one another, and how, they just seem to fit. Last summer they brought Jordan's longtime friend, Tino, to the farm," again he raises his drink, and he gets a couple hoots, "—and the place has never been the same. And now T's got a standing invitation. Lisa, you've known this guy the longest, you're the one who really is family, but we're glad Jordan has come into our lives and become a part of ours, and we hope to see more of you (especially since we hear that you garden)." And in earnest, Jeremy raises his beer, "To Katherine and Jordan, on the day that we celebrate a relationship that was really cemented a long while ago." The guests raise their glasses and drink. After swallowing Jeremy tacks on, "And to Gracie!" There's a 'Here, here,' from someone and they all drink once more.
Then Tino's at the mic commanding his audience's attention. "Okay," he smiles wickedly, as though in league with all thirty-something of them, "so, most of what there is to say about this guy came out at the bachelor party." He's looking and grinning at Jordan who's looking back at him with a feigned look of disapproval. "But none o' that's got clearance to share here," there's that twinkle in his eye and he smiles conspiratorially as he takes a well-timed drink from his tumbler of bourbon. When he resumes he's abandoned his rakish teasing of his friend and beams warmly as he speaks his simple truth. "More than that, Jordan's my best friend; and, I'd stand up for him anywhere. I'm proudest though," he lifts his glass, "to do it here." There is clinking of glasses and some scattered applause and Tino swallows his drink. Jordan kisses his wife, and points lovingly at his oldest friend.
The married couple visits with their childhood friends, with their siblings and close-to siblings. They meet in groupings that haven't met for years or have never met before.
Riley takes the stage and seated all alone with an acoustic guitar on her lap, she speaks into the lowered microphone, "This is for my darling and beautiful Katherine, and her man. We couldn't be happier for you." She sings a quiet simple love song they'd written together in the days they'd had a college girl garage band.
Then, pushing Shane behind the drums, Tino climbs up with her, and both strapping on electrics, Riley and Tino play several songs together, going after it as only those two really can.
"Hey, Angela."
Angela, feeling a little like she's the only one at this affair that has no one specific to hang with, turns her head. Her brow furrows a little in confusion. "Mr. Wilson?" In a million years, she had not thought to see him here.
With his beautiful wife in his arm snugged against his side, the educator, older, but still strikingly handsome, chuckles and drinks his wine, "Yeah, but, uh," he gestures with his glass, "you can make it 'Matt' now."
Angela covers her blush and surprise with a smile and a question. "So, uh," she covers awkwardly after having been so thrown, "you guys stayed in touch?"
"Yeah," Wilson nods easily, "since he moved back to town."
With a warm smile, Samia reaches out to touch Angela's hand. "Hi Angela, Samia; we met once, at a dance."
"Right," Angela nods. Then smiles. "Prom. I remember, hi." She laughs a bit uncomfortably. "It's a surprise to see you, I guess."
"So," Wilson gestures again, "tell me what you've been up to."
"Well, um…" Angela makes a little face as she tries to think of how to sum up her entire life since high school. "School; graduated –" Then there's someone there beside her.
"Hey there." Hands in pockets Jordan greets the trio with a winning smile. "How's it goin'." Angela turns to face him, she smiles.
"It's going great, kid."
Angela watches as Samia leaves her husband's arm and reaches out to Jordan, laying her hand on his chest as she kisses his cheek. It's so adult, all of this. So graceful and mature. Maybe it's just Wilson's beautiful wife, but she doesn't think so. None of it seems like Jordan, yet he fits so easily within it. All along she'd thought it was Tino who was the chameleon, but maybe all this time it was Jordan. "It's super, darling," Samia Wilson smiles graciously. "A beautiful, beautiful night." It's strange for Angela, seeing how at ease with one another they all are, as though they had been the friends from so many years before, as though it had been they who had grown up with each other. She'd never felt that with a teacher. She hardly thinks she feels it now for him.
"Lucked out with the weather," Wilson adds.
"For sure," Jordan agrees amiably, his hands still tucked casually in his suit pockets. He nudges Angela with his elbow, "Haven't seen you much." Beside her, as always taller than she, fractionally he leans into her, the way he always does when creating a space of intimacy. "How'ya doin'?"
Angela nods decidedly, "I'm doing great." She sips slowly from her glass. "It's nice to see Lisa and Ben again."
Party to this benign exchange of pleasantries, Wilson bites down on his lip, his eyes darting amusedly back and forth between the two of them. "This feels familiar," he smiles. "'Jordan Catalano and Angela Chase.'"
For a split second, Angela has to look away, from the spectacle of nostalgia and the old memories of what once was and also what never was — it's embarrassing, to be looked at in this way with him anymore; anything that was a 'them' is so distant now and far back. She came to support Jordan, to celebrate him and his new family, she didn't come to be thrown back into the mix of being mixed up with him in people's attentions, but the offhand remark was passing and good-natured in intent, and she recovers quickly, demonstrably unaffected. Samia smiles, and Angela changes the subject. "Oh," she smiles at Jordan beside her as the non sequitur occurs to her. "I met Tino's mom."
Jordan chuckles, "Bet she loved that. She harangued me for years to meet you."
"Well," Angela sips her champagne, "it only took you getting married for it to happen."
"Anyway," he kisses her cheek, "thanks for coming." Jordan shakes hands with Wilson and clutches Samia's with affection. "Gotta keep moving; catch up with you later. Keep drinking," he tells them as he moves off to touch base with other guests.
At some point, Riley and Tino switch over to acoustic and after a couple more songs Riley retires to her husband and her friends. But Tino's not done. "Alright then," he speaks into the mic as he adjusts the straps on his guitar, "this one's for my boy." And he sings, replacing certain lyrics, his Hank Jr. song.
All my rowdy friends have settled down, and they seem to be more into laid back songs.
Nobody wants to get drunk and get loud. Everybody just wants to go back home.
I myself have seen my wilder days and I have seen my name at the top of the page,
but I need to find a friend just to run around.
But nobody wants to get high on the town
and all my rowdy friends have settled down.
And I think I know what my father meant when he sang about a lost highway
AND OLD SHANE TRUNDENOWSKI, HE'S FINALLY STOPPED THROWING BLOWS.
"Yeah," he interjects, "I know that dudn't rhyme." He continues with a breath and a chuckle.
AND NATE IS STAYING HOME AND DOIN' WHAT — HIS GRANDMA KNOWS.
And nobody wants to get drunk and get loud,
and all my rowdy friends have settled down.
And the hangovers hurt more than they used to.
And cornbread and iced tea's took the place of pills and ninety-proof.
And it seems like none of us do things quite like we used to do—
And nobody wants to get high on the town,
and all my rowdy friends have settled down.
Yeah I think I know what my father meant when he sang about his lost highway
Tino interjects again, "I got it this time." He smiles.
AND JORDAN CAT DON'T ACT LIKE HE DID BACK IN '98.
AND JOEY, HE's GONE LONE STAR AND 'S PRETTY MUCH MIA.
"See? It rhymed."
And nobody wants to get drunk and get loud,
and all my rowdy friends have settled down.
"Big finish." He chuckles again.
Yeah, me and my rowdy friends done rowdied on down.
"Love you, brother." Everybody cheers and whoops and raises their drinks to the stage. With a final guitar riff and a salute to his best friend, Tino surrenders the stage, grabs a beer, and taps Shane to join him for a smoke at the side of the house.
"Hey!" Tino calls as the flame on his lighter dies down and he takes his first drag. "Get over here!" He'd caught sight of Angela Chase and isn't going to let her get away.
Angela stops, squints to see who is back there calling her name, then approaches with a lazy smile. "Heelloo," she greets them.
"Heeeyy," Shane reaches out to her from where he's seated on the curb, being possibly the most friendly with her he's ever been. "Take a seat."
Angela looks around and decides she's not exactly dressed for ground sitting. Tino nods and sticks his cigarette in his mouth, "Hold on," and he disappears, leaving Angela and Shane alone together.
"How's it going?" Shane asks behind his dark shades he's peculiarly donned again. He exhales and queries facetiously, "Ya having a hard time?" He cocks an eyebrow at her.
"No," she chuckles and kicks lightly at his boot. "God," she shakes her head, with a smile, "shut, up. You are such an ass." And with that grin of his Shane wags his eyebrows at her.
Tino returns with a chair, another beer, a glass of wine, a slice of cake, and Nate. "Stop bein' an ass." He sets the chair down, "Here princess." He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and hands her the wine, clinking it with his bottle as she sits. "Cheers. To fucking Liberty High, and being young, and to my best boyfriend." They all lift their glasses and drink.
Nate smiles and kisses Angela on the cheek, "How you doin' Chase?"
Angela starts to answer, but Shane interrupts, "Already asked 'er that. We got a broken heart on our hands."
"Oh, shut the fuck up," Tino groans. "You really are an ass. Angela's fine. She's beautiful. If anyone's heart-broken it's me." He eats the cake. "Both the Catalanos married and I never got to first base with either of 'em. And pretty lil' Angela Chase has never had eyes for me, and 's always breezing in and out of my life, flying off to wherever she lives, leaving me in the proverbial lurch." He winks at her.
"Awwww," Shane jeers.
Nate's head drops back, "Here he goes — he's getting drunk and oratorical."
"Angela," Tino commands her attention, "now I know I'm his unrequited lover, so I should know this in spades, but, you were with him for years —"
She shakes her head, "Not 'years.'"
"Years," he persists.
"Off and on," she amends.
"Fine. 'Off and on,' for years — What is it about him?" But he doesn't exactly leave an opening for her to answer because Nate wasn't wrong when he said Tino was in the mood to listen to himself. "I get the dreamboat eyes and Shaun Cassidy hair—"
Nate looks around "—What decade is this?"
"—But he 's kind of a jerk. Back then. Wasn't he? And mute?"
Angela smiles at him, "You always talked him up so much."
"I wanted you to see it. He liked you."
"Oh," she laughs, "I saw it."
Tino holds her quietly in his gaze for a moment, then smiles it off and moves on. "Meanwhile I'm alone. And unloved."
"Don't worry," Nate banters, "Shane struck out with the braids, he's on the rebound."
"Braids, yes," Shane confirms as he rises. "But the blonde with the mermaid hair — it's on. 'Night Chase. Good t' see ya."
"Bye."
"Yeah," Nate straightens up, "gotta collect my girl." He smiles and nods at Angela and follows Shane back to the lights and the party. "Tino; breakfast tomorrow?"
Tino nods as he swallows another piece of cake, "Ten o'clock. River Diner." Alone now with Angela, he offers her a bite of cake. She takes a piece. "So—" he starts as he pulls out a joint from his silver cigarette case and suggests it to Angela.
She hesitates then shrugs, "Why not?"
"God," he shakes his head, "I freakin' love you, Chase. Always were un-peggable." He glances at her as he lights the thing and inhales. "So," he starts again, blowing on the end to keep it lit then passing it over, "heard you met Momma."
Angela takes the joint and nods as she inhales. "I did." She takes one more hit then hands it back.
Tino takes a drag. "I shouldn't be saying this. So I'm gonna say that I'm drunk. And a little buzzed. But that's not it."
"Okay…"
Tino drinks his beer and runs his hand through his roots, "I don't know why I'm saying this."
She reaches for his beer and takes a drink, "Then don't."
Tino stops and looks her in the eye. "He loved you. Like crazy." Angela is still. "He really loved you. And, that changed him. Don't roll your eyes, y' hhdidn't know him before. You made him — or, I don't know, 'let' him — see himself differently. He's always been a good guy, deep down, but self-preservation made him a little selfish, and he really didn't let a lot of people in. And you made him let you in." Tino takes one more hit and offers it back to her. When she shakes her head he licks his fingers and quenches the burn. "He wouldn't be here tonight if it weren't for you. I really believe that. I don't know how fucked up that is for me to say. And I love Katie—"
"She seems really great."
He nods. "She is. She is. I couldn't be happier for him. But you," he points, "you were great first."
It doesn't hurt to hear any of this, but she doesn't need to. Angela knows what she had with Jordan and what he had meant to her; she doesn't need Tino to anthologize it for her. But it was sweet. Her smile is friendly and wistful, "I love you."
For a moment it seems as though there could be a moment between them. Their eyes meet, and the liquor and the old camaraderie tempts their slightly parted lips— But Tino's eyes crinkle into a molasses-slow smile and he shakes his head out of it, "Can't do it, Chase. Would love to," he smiles, "but can't. Just too predictable at the ex and best friend's wedding."
With great poise, Angela wets her lips, smiles, and leans back. "Ever get tired of being right?"
He winks at her, "I never get tired, period." Angela chuckles. "Okay," he rises with a shifted energy, "too maudlin here in the dark." He takes her hand and helps her up, and walks behind her, back to the party, carrying the chair with him.
The night grows longer. The crowd has thinned, the children have long been asleep, but Tino's still going strong and while the remaining others are clustering at the tables and the fire pit, he dances with his mother to Bowie's "Heroes". When the song switches to Van Morrison's "Caravan," he takes Katherine from Jordan. So compelled, Jordan picks up with Nancy, but though he has rhythm he's not as light on his feet as his friend. Tino starts off with twirls and intricate moves, holding the bride tenderly in his arms, moving her about with effortless panache, but halfway through the song he steadies his lead and smiles over her shoulder at her husband. "Hey, brother."
"Shh," Jordan smiles, "I'm rethinking my choice of wives."
Tino play-shakes a fist at him, "Why I oughta…"
Nancy taps Jordan's shoulder and stops dancing, "Actually babies, I have got to get myself to bed." She takes Tino's face in her hands, "Beautiful boy one," and kisses his forehead. She does the same to Jordan, "Beautiful boy two. And," she turns to Katherine, "beautiful, beautiful girl." She hugs her and kisses her cheek. "I want to eat that little girl of yours." Stepping back she rewraps her shawl, "It's a lovely wedding. Thank you for including me. And have a lovely, lovely marriage. And more babies," she adds with a maternally wicked smile.
"Alright," Tino sighs, "that's my cue." He jerks his head towards his mother, "She's my ride." He kisses Katherine then kisses Jordan, both on the lips, then double pats Jordan's cheek. "I love ya."
"H'lo?" Jeff Catalano doesn't bother to remove the cigarette from his mouth when he answers the phone.
Jordan takes a second before he speaks, "Hey.
Smiling a little, Jeff switches the phone to the other, "Hey there."
Jordan clears his throat, "How'ya doin'?"
He scratches his jaw, "Not bad. So, what's new?"
Jordan thinks before he says it, though it's the reason he's called— "Got married." It's more than two weeks after.
There's a minute of silence, then Jeff speaks up, "Oh yeah?" He clears his throat, "Well, good. Give that baby a daddy."
Jordan's eyes shut momentarily; he tells himself the old man probably didn't hear in it what he'd implied, so Jordan swallows it and just nods, "Right."
"Your sister there?"
"Yeah. She was there."
"Was it, a big affair?" Jeff's asking questions to keep up the conversation, to keep up appearances to cover up that he would have liked to have been asked. But he knows why he was not.
"Small. Very small."
"Good," he nods. "Smart. Save some money." He hesitates to ask, "Last minute?"
"Uh, not really."
In time Jeff breaks the silence, still keeping up the tempo, "So, you happy?"
Jordan hesitates to tell it to the man who for so many years cared about anything but his happiness. But in the end, he does answer. "Yeah."
"Married."
Not sure that he cares, Jordan can't stop himself from asking, "What'dya think?"
"Well," he starts, "it never worked out for me."
Jordan can't fucking respond to that. He deserved that for asking in the first place. There's silence; Jordan can hear his father smoking over the phone. "So, fishing? Next month?"
"Yep. Sounds good."
"Ok. Gotta go."
Posted 8/11/13
