Chapter 14: May 2, 1986: Part I

The following Friday, we’re sitting across from one another at our table in the library. He's studying for his last final while I stare at the college catalog.

"Are you taking classes this summer?" I ask, flipping pages.

"I don't know," he replies absentmindedly. "Probably not."

He looks up. "Why? Are you?"

"I talked to Financial Aid, and my scholarship will cover two classes and the summer dorm fees." I turn the page. "I need to register by Monday."

"Are you doing that just so you’ll have somewhere to stay?"

"That's definitely a bonus. Also, I thought I could take a couple of easy classes, so I’m not forced to spend an entire semester on them. I'm thinking maybe Italian II and some kind of physical class. P.E. or swimming or something."

He leans back. "Well, now this is a whole conversation."

I look up. "Why?"

"I thought maybe, you know, you'd stay with me this summer."

"With you and your dad?"

“Yeah.”

I smile. "That's sweet, but I doubt your father would appreciate a houseguest for eleven weeks. Guests and fish and all that."

"You stayed with us for nearly three weeks during Christmas. He didn't mind that."

"Three weeks is different than nearly three months," I tell him.

"What's your alternative?"

"Here." I swallow. "Or going home, I guess."

"You can't be serious."

I pause, then shake my head. "No, you're right. You're right. I won't go home. That's crazy."

He nods with exaggeration. "Yeah. Really, really crazy."

"I guess I could stay with Joan and Preston." I shiver. "Three months with Preston. Yuck."

He looks at his watch and closes his textbook. "Let’s take a walk. Maybe ice cream?"

I drop the catalog in my bag. "Sure."

We walk across campus to the ice cream shop. He orders raspberry, and I order blueberry.

"Love those spring flavors," I comment, holding the door open for him.

"I love this weather," he says as we walk toward the quad. "In a few weeks, it'll be too hot to jog or do almost anything outside that doesn't involve water."

I smile. "An even better excuse for ice cream."

He licks his scoop, staring ahead. I can’t tell if it’s seriousness or nervousness, but I rarely see this side of him.

"Have you thought about where you’ll live next semester?" he asks.

"I'm just planning on staying in the dorms. You?"

"I've given that some thought."

"Yeah?"

"We both have merit-based scholarships that pay for on-campus housing."

"Yeah."

"BSU has a dorm for couples."

I chuckle. "Yeah, married couples and non-trad people with kids. A little more expensive, but I guess if you're splitting the cost with someone else, it's–" I look over at him. "Oh."

He smiles at me before licking his ice cream again.

"Are you saying? I mean… are you asking?"

He grins. "What if I am?"

I bite my lip. "After eight months?"

"Well, technically a year when we move into the dorm."

"Do you really want to do this? Or do you just not want to room with another football player?"

He chuckles, even though I’m only half-joking. "Well, there is that."

We walk to his dorm. "Stay right here, okay?" he requests.

"All right."

I watch him jog into the building, and he reappears two minutes later, no longer carrying his textbook. Confidently strolling toward me, he points toward the quad as I finish my cone. "Let's sit."

I grin. "You're acting a little weird."

He laughs, but it’s the first time I see him actually nervous. "I know."

We sit on the ground, our backs against the fountain. “Do you remember the first day we met?"

"Of course."

"We bought ice cream, and then we sat right here and drew in the sunshine."

I look into the clear sky. "I remember, Colin."

He digs his hand into the left pocket of his faded jeans. "So, I know you said you didn't care about rings, but–" he holds up a silver band with a sapphire in the center, "what do you think about this?"

My eyes widen as I gently take the ring from him, and rotate it with my fingertips. "How– how did you afford this?" I whisper.

He clicks his tongue. "On-campus lost-and-found yard sale. I even hung up flyers in the Student Union to make sure someone hadn't accidentally dropped it. I'm guessing someone threw it in the grass or the fountain after a breakup."

He shrugs. "I was scouting for clothes and erasers and whatever, and I found this, and I thought it was a sign."

I grin. “All your frickin’ erasers.”

“Artists need erasers.” He chuckles and digs into his right pocket. "Also these, but I’ll need to have them resized." He drops two supposed wedding bands into my palm.

"They're huge!"

"I know! There was a note that said they were found on the trashcan in King's." He knocks his shoulder against mine. "C’mon, Ra'Shelle. I'm not doing this to avoid another semester with a jock. I'm doing this because I love you, and you love me, and I want to spend all of my time with you."

I look at him. "We still haven't… you know."

He smiles. "Well, first of all, until not that long ago, it wasn't kosher to do that before a wedding anyway. And, second of all, we've done a lot of other stuff, Ra'Shelle. A lot."

I giggle, something I never do with anyone else. "True."

"I'm not worried about that. It'll happen when it happens." He winks. "If you don't like the ring, we can drop it in the fountain and let some other couple find it."

"I love the ring, and I love you. I just didn't expect it to be this soon."

I’ve picked up a lot of his tells, but his face remains mostly unreadable to me. "Are you sure?” I ask. “I mean, really sure?"

"I've thought about it a lot the last few months. I want this; I want you."

"Well then, you should ask."

He chortles and takes the ring from me. "Ra'Shelle Dawson, love of my life, will you marry me?"

My grin has never been wider as I hold out my hand. "Yes. Of course I'll marry you."

He slips the ring onto my finger and kisses me sweetly. "Look at that. A perfect fit. It must be fate."

"Or I just wear a very common ring size."

"No, I'm going with the 'fate' thing." His grin matches mine. "Give me those bands, and I'll have them resized into something normal people wear."

"Maybe they were thumb rings," I postulate, dropping them in his palm.

"Maybe someone thought they were gauges."

I laugh. “You want to do this at home, so your dad can be there?"

"Yeah, he'd hate to miss it. In fact, when I call him, he'll probably make the arrangements for us. I think he's seeing someone right now; maybe he’ll invite her. You want to invite Joan?"

I shrug. "Not really, but I should. She probably won't make the drive, but they might send a gift."

I tilt my head, staring at the sparse, white clouds. "Even two years ago, I couldn't have imagined her not being my maid of honor. Now, I don't care either way."

"Sorry, babe."

I wave my hand, refocusing on our bliss. "Let's do this. Go call your dad, I'll call Joan, and we'll meet back here in fifteen minutes to figure out the rest."

He kisses my forehead. "Always the planner."

I squeeze his hand and stand up. "Thanks for asking me."

"Thanks for saying ‘yes’."

***

He’s waiting for me, grinning. "Dad was a little surprised, but happy for us. I was right about him helping. We're going to hold the ceremony in the backyard, and he's finding us a Justice of the Peace. How does Saturday, July 19 sound?"

"Perfect."

"I told him you didn't want cake, so he's barbecuing what will almost certainly be Fourth of July leftovers and buying us a few gallons of ice cream."

We sit down on the ground, both beaming and giddy. "Joan agreed to be my maid-of-honor and we’re going shopping for a dress tomorrow."

He raises his eyebrows. "Changed your mind?"

"More like I don't want to ruin Joan's glee."

"That's kind of you."

"Nothing too fancy, and no uncomfortable shoes. Those are my rules."

"I was thinking about summer classes,” he says, taking my hand.

"Yeah?"

"How about we both take two classes in June? We'll power through and then we'll go to my house for the wedding. That way, you secure your extra credits, and you only spend six weeks with my dad, instead of eleven.”

I nod. "Much better. I want to wait and take an athletic class in the fall. I need the exercise. So, I'm thinking Italian II and Oral Communications."

He laughs.

"What?"

"I was thinking the same thing. Not Italian, obviously, but Oral Comm. I checked the requirements, and the only math class required for art students is Introduction to Algebra. It'll be boring, but easy. What are you doing for your math requirement?"

"I'm taking Business Statistics in the fall."

"Business Statistics? Are you minoring in Business?"

"It's starting to look that way, huh?"

"So, we'll take Oral Communications together. You'll take Italian, and I'll take dumb math." He kisses my hand. "Sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

I lay my head on his shoulder. "And then we'll have a wedding."

***

On Monday, we enroll in summer classes and register to move into King Hall. The middle-aged woman behind the desk sternly reminds us that King’s is for married couples only.

No ring; no dorm.

I smile as we leave the building. "Well, now you really have to marry me."

He chuckles and drapes his arm over my shoulders. "I guess so."

I squeeze his hand. "Joan told me that I didn't need a blender, so, as her wedding gift to me, she bought my dress. All I had to buy were comfortable shoes… I realize I'm already almost as tall as you, so I bought flats. I won't tower over you at the wedding."

He sways to knock his shoulder against mine. "As if I would care. In case you haven't noticed, I love tall women. Reminds me that you’re powerful, goddess-like, really."

My face is hot as I turn away. "Good to know."

"When can I see the dress?"

"At the wedding. It's bad luck before then."

He hits his forehead. "Right. I totally forgot that we believe in superstitions."

I roll my eyes playfully. "You'll live without seeing me in the dress for eight more weeks."

He presses his lips against my ear as we near the dorms. "I could live without seeing you in a dress right now."

I giggle. "You have some of the worst pickup lines. How are we engaged?"

"It must be love or something." His fingertips graze the smooth skin just below my collarbone.

I bite my lip. "We haven't tried anything since… the letter."

"I know," he whispers, "but I have an idea."

I look into his eyes and take a deep breath. "Okay. Let's sneak you in."