Page 93 of Summer After Summer

“Olivia, my dear, you are far too young to get married.”

“You and Mom got married young.”

He glances up at me over the half-moon of his reading glasses. “That was a different time.”

“Old people always say that.”

“Are you saying that I’m old?” This was the greatest offense to my father, and not the way to convince him to be on my side.

“Older. And about this, maybe yes.”

He takes his glasses off and lets them fall to the dining table. He almost never lets anyone see him wearing them, but he can’t read his morning paper without them. “This isn’t a discussion, Olivia. I’ve said no. It would be a mistake to get married so young.”

I clench my hands “Is this because you don’t like Fred?”

“It’s entirely about you. I understand that you think you’re in love. And perhaps you are. But one summer of flirting isn’t enough to build a lifetime on. You will need to trust me on this.”

His words descend like a weight on my chest. I hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed. I thought I’d get his usual indifference. This was, after all, the man who’d showed zero interest in where I went to college, never asked to see my report cards, and only remembered my birthday because Aunt Tracy reminded him. I thought he might grumble at the expense of a wedding, which Fred and I had already decided we wouldn’t put anyone through. I even thought he might be relieved at not having any financial responsibility for me anymore given what was going on.

But an outright refusal? That hadn’t occurred to me at all. I was glad I’d told Fred I was going to talk to him on my own.

“You’re ruining my life,” I say, my lip trembling.

“Be that as it may, this is my final decision.”

“And if I do it anyway? If I just run away?”

My father’s face registers his exhaustion. “Does my opinion mean so little to you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then why press this?”

“Because we want to be together. We love each other.”

“Can you not simply live together like so many of your generation do now?”

I almost laugh. “I’m pretty sure my generation isn’t the first to live together before they get married.”

“All the more reason to try it out.”

He has me here. And if I’m being honest with myself, that’s what I thought we’d do. I hadn’t understood at first that Fred wanted to get married immediately, in a few weeks. But when I’d suggested to him last night that we live together first after he pulled my calendar off the wall and started talking about dates, he’d looked so hurt that I’d quickly retracted the suggestion.

Fred has insecurities about people leaving, I’m coming to realize, because of his father’s death and what happened with that girl Phoebe. He’s still mourning his uncle. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to wait—he wants to jump in. Or maybe it’s that once you put yourself out there and ask someone to marry you, anything other than an enthusiastic “yes” and an immediate search for a date leaves you feeling vulnerable.

I wouldn’t know.

“We want to get married,” I say to William. “We don’t want to try it out. We want to start our life together now.”

“Your Aunt Tracy will feel as I do.”

This is a blow, using her against me. “I think she’ll be happy for me.”

“You talk to her and see.”

Tears spring to my eyes. Now, I think. Now is when you decide to suddenly decide to start caring about my life?

“Mom would be happy for me.”

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