I was nervous as hell.

'Why am I nervous?'

'Because you don't know how this is all going to turn out,' said the
cautious Sean, perched on my shoulder like an albatross.

'The game is afoot, as the British say, and I'm in it all the way.'

'You're an idiot,' retorted the cautious Sean, just before he
disappeared.

I adjusted my bow tie for about the twentieth time. I was standing
in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my parents' closet
door. I was wearing my father's tuxedo. My hair was freshly cut, I
was as dapper as I could get, and I was jittery. It was all on the
line.

'I'd be much surer of myself if this was a soccer game,' I told
myself.

I looked at my watch for about the fiftieth time. I clomped down the
stairs and paced in the family room. I still had another fifteen
minutes to wait before I left.

Michael and his girlfriend, Gayle, were in the family room with my
dad, trying to watch TV. I kept on walking in front of them.

Finally, Michael growled, "Sean! Sit down, for Chrissakes."

I glanced at them, startled to find them in the room with me.
"Can't," I said.

Gayle was lounging with her back against my brother's arm. She was a
tall brunette, leggy with what my dad called "good, childbearing
hips," which I loosely translated as having somewhat of a wide ass.
It didn't matter to Michael, and it didn't matter to me. She was very
nice, and she loved my brother as deeply as he loved her. They shared
an apartment out in the sticks, where it was cheaper to live, and
they were planning on getting married in the fall. My mom, along with
Gayle and her mother, were in wedding planning mode, which meant all
other things were put on hold until further notice. In fact, there
were books of sample invitations spread out on the coffee table, with
pieces of scratch paper marking pages in some of them.

"It's okay, Sean. Pace if it makes you feel better," said Gayle with
an indulgent smile.

"Was I this stupid when I was his age?" asked Michael rhetorically.

"I didn't know you then," said Gayle, "but you probably were."

My dad grunted and nodded.

"Thanks a lot, both of you," grumbled Michael.

Finally, it was time to leave. With one last adjustment of my tie
and a kiss on the cheek from Gayle, I headed out.

I drove over and parked the car in the driveway. I got out, gave my
tuxedo jacket a tug to make sure it was unwrinkled, and walked to the
front door. I knew her parents would want to take photos. It was
standard operating procedure for parents. I knocked on the door, and
her father opened it.

With a smile, he said, "Come in, Sean. She'll be down in a minute."

I stood by the front door, still nervous, until I saw her coming
down the stairs. As she has nearly always done in the past, she took
my breath away. She truly was beautiful, and I felt honored to be in
her presence. She was wearing a pale lavender gown with delicate
white lace at the neckline and the hem, and there were tiny white
flowers woven into her long hair.

She smiled at me fondly. "I think my dad's going to want to take
some pictures," she said. She took my hand and led me into their
formal living room.

We stood together, arm in arm, posing for the camera. We put up with
it with as much tolerance as we could. It was a pain for us, but the
parents just didn't see their young ones dressed up very often, and
they always seemed to want to mark the occasion with photographs.
Finally, after posing this way and that, standing side by side or in
each other's arms and our heads turned toward the camera, they felt
they had enough. Either that, or they had run out of film. We were
free to leave.

"Have fun!" Her parents stood in the doorway and watched us walk
down the sidewalk to my car. Her brother came out and stood with her
parents as we left, and we waved to him, as well. As I opened the
door, she brushed back her strawberry-blonde hair and leaned toward
me. She kissed me softly.

"What's that for?" I asked, glad nevertheless to receive her kiss.

"For luck," said Molly. She slipped gracefully into the passenger
seat of my car.



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