A Striking Resemblance

I walked inside, nodded to Pop, and went upstairs to change. When I came back, he looked me up and down.

"So, you're a suit guy now?" I looked at what I was wearing. No. No, I wasn't. This time, I needed to be me. Shelley deserved honesty in all things. I went back upstairs, ironed some Dockers and a golf shirt, checked my hair and went back downstairs.

Pop nodded, and I nodded back before heading out. It felt like déjà vu as I once again waited outside her front door. When she finally arrived, I lifted the bag that I had brought with me and held it for her to see.

"What've you got?"

"I brought the Chinese with me this time."

"Good, I'm exhausted and starving."

We went inside and enjoyed our food while sharing anecdotes about work. She made me chuckle, and I did the same. Everything about us was easy. We just flowed. Well, we had until I decided to propose like a robot. Even after that, we were still relaxed and comfortable with each other. When we were done, I passed her the fortune cookie.

"Ugh. It's not even in one of those cellophane wrappers. What did they do, just grab one off the counter and throw it in the bag? That's disgusting."

My face must've gone pale as she looked at me in concern.

"Um, I'm sure it's fine."

"Okay, Mr. Tough-Guy. If it's fine, you eat it."

I rolled my eyes. "Shelley, open the cookie."

She looked at me and then back to the cookie. "Fine, whatever."

She cracked open the cookie, and the ring tumbled out. It cost me seventy-five bucks to get it made. It turned out that most of the fortune cookies in the country were either manufactured in Los Angeles or New York. I had to find an accommodating baker and have it made custom. The guy had a thick German accent and laughed when I told him what I wanted him to do. It amused him to no end that a German immigrant living in America was making what people thought of as a Chinese cookie but was actually invented here in the US.

She stared down at the ring. "Steve, we --"

"I know. Just hear me out, okay? I was an idiot. I meant well, but that's not enough, is it? Instead of being practical, I should've told you how I felt. You had me the first time I laid eyes on you. When we started to talk at the bistro, I knew it wasn't just a physical attraction. When I saw you dance with the baby, something shifted in my heart. I think that I knew that I loved you then. It must've started before that, but that's when I started admitting it to myself. After Santa Fe, I was a goner. What I had with you was unlike anything I'd had with a woman since Gus's mother passed.

"Shelley, I love you. I'm tired of waking up and not having you next to me. I'm tired of days slipping by when I don't see you or speak to you. I'm tired of not telling you how I really feel. I want to be with you today, tomorrow, and for the rest of our lives. It may have taken me a while to get here, but I'd be doing this even if you weren't pregnant. Shelley, will you marry me?"

She had her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she kept staring at the ring. Eventually, she picked it up and slipped it on her finger while nodding. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I'll marry you."

A part of me must've feared that she was going to say no again, so I just sat there, a little stunned. She said yes! She was going to marry me. Shelley got up, leaned over and kissed me. It was shrimp lo mein, Coke Zero, and perfection. Taking my hand, she led me to the bedroom.

Two hours and one shower later, we were in her car heading over to her dad's.

"You sure you don't want me to drive? You were really tired when you got home."

Looking over at me, she stretched her hand out and took mine. "I'm fine. I don't think I'm going to sleep for a year. Maybe two. I feel like I've had a hundred cups of coffee."

Her father reminded me of Pop. He was gruff and probably intimidating to a lot of people, but seemed like a good guy.

We'd met before when Gus had delivered some of his flip books and another time when Shelley and I went over for a BBQ. The man seemed happy but tempered. His wife, on the other hand, was full of gleeful energy. She kept looking at the ring and talking to Shelley about wedding plans. How on earth could they be discussing plans for something that didn't exist a few hours ago?

Everything with Mike kept circling back to his impending grandchild. He wasn't a prick about it, but he kept asking questions about me, my family, and my job. He kept everything casual but wound up offering me a job. That's when Shelley broke in.

"Dad, let it go. Steve has an excellent job that he enjoys and is good at. People have babies every day. Trust me, I would know. You don't need to keep trying to baby proof the world. We'll have more than enough money to raise your grandchild, and we both have job security. You can relax."

"I've got a wooden bracelet with Kuuipo engraved on the inside in my office." Halika said to Shelley, "If you'd like, it can be your 'something borrowed', it would, Shelley... it would make me happy." It was clear Haliaka was going into mother-of-the-bride mode as the two women got up and went to another room.

Mike looked at me. Really looked, not saying anything. I felt like I was being assessed and properly measured, like a horse at an auction. Sure, we'd met socially, but this was a whole different ball game and Mike was evaluating me as a father gauges a future son-in-law, no matter the age of his daughter. And I'd knocked his daughter up. I wasn't nervous exactly, but if I was in his place, I'd have questions.

I'm not a small man but Mike had mass. Not just big, but solid, and with that presence that confident, mature people have, which regardless of their size makes you take note of them. I wasn't totally oblivious. He'd been a big deal in the music industry. I was aware of that, and I could believe it. There was an air about him that said he didn't take any bullshit and didn't suffer fools. I knew Shelley and he had a sometimes brittle relationship, so I decided to simply wait and let him lead the conversation.

"A baby, then a wedding?" It wasn't quite a statement, but I knew, clear as day what he was asking.

"It's not forced, I couldn't do that to Shelley. It's real. The baby just gave me a boot in the ass and changed the timetable, is all."

"You've been married before, Gus' mom." Again the slightly leading tone, but I chose to take it as a statement, requiring only a nod. He was going to be family, but he wasn't there yet.

"Shannon mentioned that she passed, that Lucinda is named for her." Another nod.

"How long, if I may ask?"

"Twenty-three years. When Gus was five. Before Shelley, that was the last serious relationship I had."

"You had him young. Probably around what, eighteen? All that time. Always faithful," Mike said, almost to himself. Then he looked at me. "Semper Fideles. Seems it's a family motto."

"I guess. Look, I'm not trying to sound like some noble martyr. It's just that the love never went away. We go see her a few times a year. I loved her like the day I married her, why would I honour her any the less just because she was taken from Gus and me? She set a high standard. No one has meant anything like that to me until Shelley."

Mike smiled, nodded and that, it seemed, was that, at least to Mike. I was going to treat Shelley right.

He reached over to shake hands, "Welcome to the family."

I could hear Halika and Shelley talking from the direction of the office. As they came back, they continued making plans.

I wasn't sure how to tell Gus. His relationship with his mother was unique and a center point of his life. There'd been no reason to worry. He treated the news as if I had told him I was buying him a ticket to come home for the holidays. He seemed good with it, but neither overly excited nor concerned. That changed when I told him he was going to be a big brother.

He seemed fascinated by the concept, and we spoke about what big brothers were supposed to do. If it was a girl, we both decided that a Marine would make a pretty damned good protector. If it was a boy, Gus thought that he could learn enough about sports to help his brother.

Shelley and I split time between my place and hers until her lease was up. The baby was making itself obvious as Shelley grew larger. I loved how she looked pregnant, but then again, I loved how she looked when she wasn't pregnant. Our favorite times were when we sat out on the porch at my house and listened to my daughter-in-law play her violin from her own backyard. I'd hold Shelley in my arm and periodically lay my hand on her belly. She would snuggle into me, and we'd listen to the music as we sat under the stars.

My determination that I would never truly love again faded away like the morning mist under a hot sun. My fears that I would let the unborn child down in some way, just as I'd let Gus down, weren't easy to deal with. Everything seemed fine, Shelley was amazing, but that was how it was with Gus' mom, everything was amazing until it wasn't. And the fears continued to gnaw at me.

Eventually they came to a head when I least expected them to, Mike and Pop had decided I needed a bachelor night. Not strippers, or anything like that, simply two fathers and friends taking the bridegroom out for a night on the town, or at least a few drinks down by the riverside haunts.

I'm not a heavy drinker, I couldn't be with Gus to raise and it didn't suit me. If I'd crawled into the bottle when Gus' mom died I'd have never crawled out, and Gus needed me. So it didn't take long before I was 'loose', which I guess was Pop's intention.

"So what's bothering you kid?" Kid? I guess I was still his kid even now, we grow up but I'll always be his son.

"Nothing. I'm fit as a fiddle."

He smirked. "Fit as a fiddle? You've always been a lightweight. Don't bullshit me, Steve. What's wrong?"

"I'm just, you know, with the baby." Shit. I needed to slow down and switch to seltzer or coffee.

"What about the baby?"

"You know."

He sighed and I saw his growing aggravation. "No, I don't. What about the baby?"

"People don't change. Not really. What if... What if I'm as bad with the baby as I was with Gus?"

Mike put his root beer down and interrupted. "What happened with Gus?"

Pop put his hand out, his arm in front of Mike, and stared at me. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Gus." I was lit and wasn't making myself clear. "You know, I dropped the ball. I let him down. He deserved someone who would have been better. I wasn't there, not really. I couldn't reach him. I should have... I don't know. Been better."

"Get the fuck outta here. Better? Than you? Listen to me carefully; you were a better father to Gus than I was to you. That kid was lucky he had you. Pull your head out of your ass." He actually reached out and smacked me on the back of my head. "Don't be an asshole. You slept on the floor of his room, by his bed. Just in case he woke up and needed you. You had just lost your wife and because he might need you, you slept on his floor! Who the fuck does that?"

I waved my hand at nothing. "So what? I couldn't be there for him, not really. I had nothing for him when she died. He was lost and I... I..."

"I'll tell you what you were, you were there for him. Every damned day. Steve, Gus is autistic. It's the way it is. You can't love him so much that all of a sudden he's no longer autistic. That's not your fault. It's not even a fault. Being autistic isn't, I don't know, worse or something. He's different, not better, not worse. He knows you were there for him. He knows you love him. If you don't think so, you're full of shit. And why is this music so damned loud?"

Mike coughed purposefully and put a hand on Pop's shoulder. "I know this is some deep father son stuff, but can I say something? I don't know what Shelley told you, but I wasn't the best of dads. That's, uh, an understatement. Whatever else was going on, you were there. When things were okay, you were there. When things sucked, you were there. When things were good, you were there. I can't tell you how important that is. I know from experience, you can't put a price on that.

"I've gotten to know you, Steve. I'd bet some serious cash that when life put you on your ass, you got back up again every time. For Gus, mostly. Most fathers probably think they suck. Most are wrong. You're definitely wrong. But don't worry. Before I met my wife I started eating healthy. That steak was the fist I've had in... I don't know how long. I plan on being around for a long time. If you start screwing up with my grandchild, I'll let you know."

I nodded, concentrating on their words. I waved off the waitress when she approached and quickly changed my mind. "Can we get three more, but switch mine to a coffee? Black?"

She smiled, nodded and headed off. I thought about they said before replying.

"Thanks. I just... I'm worried. Failing Gus, it's something I carry with me, you know. I'll think about it. Shelley being pregnant, it just brought up a lot of stuff. Maybe you're right.

I didn't care about convention. I never had. If people were offended that I had two best men, screw them. Both Gus and Pop stood by my side as Mike walked Shelley down the aisle. I only had eyes for her, and Pop bumped my shoulder and handed me a handkerchief when I sniffled and then quickly coughed. He could have been embarrassed. A Marine, and his son almost losing it while waiting for his bride. But that's not who he was, and that wasn't who we were. He had my back, and I had his and we both knew that Gus would move heaven and earth to be by our side if we needed him.

It was an odd day that was full of contrasts. The wedding was small; the reception was huge. We had rented out a hall at the college and Shelley's father ensured that the entertainment would likely never be matched in Pueblo again. There were more legendary performers there than at a Grammys after-show. Charlotte and the Bobcats played a set, but in spite of the assembled talent, the show was stolen by the Poplin Family Jug Band.

The German Baker who had made the ring cookie also made our wedding cake. It felt like a scene from the Godfather as Mike's friends kept coming over to our table, congratulating us and handing Shelley envelopes stuffed with cash.

Towards the end of the evening, I looked around the room as I drank my coffee. Shelley was dancing with her father as he held her gently, as if he was afraid she might break. His smile was visible from across the room. Gus and Shannon were dancing as my son held Lucinda in her carrier. Shelley's friend Aaron was dancing with his wife while his son danced with the little girl of another guest. Pop held Kate tightly as they swayed to the music.

I sat there quietly and took everything in.

I heard somebody pull out a seat and sit down behind me and heard Marianne's voice as she leaned in. "You deserve to be happy. You did well, Steven. You really did."

Turning slightly and leaning back towards her, I kissed Marianne on the cheek. Her eyes went wide, and she smiled. I'd grown to respect the woman and that respect had grown into true affection. Money was the measure of anyone, but that ran in both directions. Having money didn't make you entitled any more than not having it made you less.

I thought of what she had said, that I had done well. I continued watching the people that I loved and thought that she was right. Gus was a grown man with his own wife and child. Maybe I hadn't failed him. I was at peace with Shelley and our life together. Maybe the powers that be had allowed me two great loves in my life. I watched Pop and realized that I had many more years with the man who continually surprised me and had always been my hero.

As the song ended, Shelley slowly walked my way, and I watched her every step.

She loosened the shoes on both feet as she sat next to me. I'd wanted her to rest more, but she wouldn't stop dancing.

"How are we going to top this when our son gets married?"

My heart leapt. "Son? We're having --"

"A boy. Yes."

I would've been just as happy with a girl, but it was clear that Shelley had wanted a son. I fell in love with her all over again as I saw the joy in her eyes.