Page 16 of Before We Say Goodbye
“Good, good,” Marshall said, denting the can in his hand with not-so-subtle fury. “So you were out getting high with a bunch of hippies while the rest of us were trying to figure out life, trying to helpyourbrother find his way after becoming a war hero.”
In that moment, in the following silence, a church bell rang, but it sounded like warning bells.
Otis wasn’t sure what Rebecca heard in those bells, but the weight of her father’s words had visibly come down on her shoulders. She slightly crumpled in stature, her spine bent forward, and her chin dropped enough to say,I give up.
Everyone took a long sip of air, together like a choir, a sound perhaps indicating that none of them wanted to step deeper into the darkness.
Finally, Jed spoke. “Don’t beat yourself up, sis. You couldn’t have stopped me.”
“That’s bullshit,” Marshall said. “You’ve been listening to her your whole life.”
Otis felt like he was growing up in fast-forward motion, seeing a side of life he’d not imagined.
“What now, Rebecca?” Marshall asked. “Are you home? Are you not home? Just here to give a sweet hug and then be on your way with this newfriendof yours?”
“He’s more than a friend.”
Otis seized up, a mannequin in a window. He managed to maneuver his eyeballs to find Rebecca, and he sent an onslaught of telepathy her way, saying,Please bail me out! I can’t move my arms or legs or mouth! Even if I could speak right now, I’d bugger it up. You started this, Bec. Please finish it.
“This is the man I am going to marry.”
Bloody hell.
The previous silence had nothing on this new one. There were no church bells this time, no intervention from God.
Still trapped in his malfunctioning body, Otis thought he might let loose his bladder. He could feel everyone in the room staring—no,boringholes into him.
No surprise, Marshall was the first to speak. “Lord, have mercy.” Otis wondered whether a prayer would follow, but a string of curse words—all together unrepeatable—sprang from this man like bullets. Marshall eventually gathered himself and found a direction. Apparently he’d forgotten Otis was in the room.
“This is a joke, Rebecca,” he said. “You’re not seriously telling us right now that you went and met some Brit who looks like a dimwit and acts like one, too, and now you’re going to marry him.”
“Where’s the ring?” Olivia asked, suddenly coming to life like someone had pulled a string behind her.
“It fell off,” Rebecca admitted. “But you should have seen it, Mom. He made it from a strip of birch tree bark. It fell off on the way back from New York. He was such a romantic, the way he asked—”
“This is rich,” Marshall interrupted. “He proposed to you in a sea of hippies with a stick. I can’t wait to see how long this marriage will last.”
Something flew through the air. A pillow. It struck Marshall in the head. “What the ...?”
Jed had slung it at him, and his grin stretched even wider. He either had a big bag of marijuana or a bag of painkillers tucked somewhere in that chair.
“Lighten up, man,” Jed told his father.
Marshall wasn’t in a playful mood. “Don’t you call meman.”
“Your daughter just told you she’s getting married, and you’re crapping all over her.”
“She’s not getting married.”
“Ever?” Jed asked. “What is she, your prisoner? Give me a break. Sis, I don’t blame you for leaving, not one flipping iota.”
Jed was making light of the situation, but it would take more than his jokes to ease the tension. Rebecca’s eyes glowed with anger and embarrassment. Her mother had fully checked out, her eyes hazy. And Marshall looked like he might explode, as if there were a lit fuse attached to his rear end.
“Jed, shut your mouth. Rebecca, you’re not getting married. Not anytime soon, at least.”
Otis was starting to get angry himself. “Sir, I’m sitting right here. Why don’t you speak to me directly?”
Marshall finally acknowledged his existence. “What’s your name again? How old are you? Fourteen?”
