“Shower fast. You’ll only miss the first inning.”
“So this is serious,” Ethan observed, coming downstairs pink and scrubbed, damp hair tousled, smelling for all the world like Atlas coming out of the bath (probably because Atlas’s was the shampoo that was in the shower).
“Peter and Katie?”
“No, dinner,” he said, laughing.
“Both evidently. I feel very nervous. I don’t know why.”
“Big night.”
“Do you feel bad?”
“No. Why?”
“Because of Katie?”
“No, I’m happy for Katie. I’m a little worried about you though.”
“Me? Why?”
“You seem to be suffering from the delusion you’re cooking for eighty.”
“It’s hard to cook small,” I said.
“I’ll help,” he offered, and started snacking on the tarts that were eventually going under the cream that was eventually going under the cherries. This was not helpful. What was helpful was that he stayed all afternoon, chopped what I told him to chop, and didn’t get mad when I told him he was doing it wrong and made him start over.
Eventually, the sun went down, the house filled up with good smells and people I loved. Seattle in the summer is what makes Seattle the rest of the year worth it. The days are warm, sunny, cloudless, and very long. It’s light until ten, and then the evenings are cool, clear, bugless, and beautiful. We glowed warmly from the candles and the wine and the talk, laughed loudly and even with our mouths full, ate and were sated. Dinner was good, my best effort, and the anxiety and weight of it all slipped away. Seattle in summer is so lovely that the end of the dessert course is really only the midpoint of the evening. No one showed any move towards going home. Presently, in the half-drunk, overfull, dreamlike aftermath, Peter stood up, stone-cold sober, and announced that he wanted to ask a question.
“Yes Peter,” Jason called on him.
Peter cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask all of you for your permission and blessing to marry Miss Katherine Louise Cooke.”
I couldn’t look directly at him—it was too embarrassing—but sidelong sneaked peeks revealed he was not nearly as uncomfortable as he’d just made everyone else. We all sat in painful, awkward silence. He just stood there beaming. Katie slowly began to give off actual light and heat. Then she kicked me under the table.
“Say something,” she yelled with her eyes.
“What?” I pled silently back.
Finally, blessings on his head forever, Jason spoke. If it wasn’t the exact right thing to say, at least he said something.
“Why are you asking us?”
“It’s tradition,” said Peter.
“To ask her friends?”
“To ask her family.” This is when Katie started crying. Just like that, he seemed worthy to me.
“You have my blessings and permission,” I said, a little tearful too. Beams and smiles from Katie and Peter. Hard, scary glaring from Jill.
“Are you mad?” she demanded.
“No,” I said.
“Drunk?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“You’ve known her a week.” Jill turned her wrath on Peter.
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
“Exactly a week. I met Katie a week ago tomorrow, but it’s after midnight, so really it’s today.” He reached down and squeezed her hand.
“So you’re asking her to marry you for your anniversary?” Lucas said wryly.
“Exactly,” said Peter again.
“What kind of person thinks a week is long enough?” Jill muttered.
“I do,” said Peter, practicing.
“How could you possibly?”
“I already know everything I need to. I know she is kind and smart. I know she is funny and fun. I know she wants church and family and children at the center of her life. She likes to share food and watch reality TV and eat sour candy. She does not like dairy-based ice cream. She prefers shopping to most other activities. She would do anything for her friends. She can’t really cook or clean . . .” (Apparently some fessing up had occurred.)
“. . . She wants to teach. She likes miniature golf and kite flying. She thinks sometimes that grad school is crap . . .” This was news to me. Also that “crap” didn’t count as a curse word.
“. . . She likes ducks. She speaks Spanish. She is the woman I am meant to spend eternity with.” He stopped and thought about it. “That’s it I think.” It seemed like a fairly comprehensive list to me, especially for a week.
Jill remained unimpressed. “You honestly think that’s enough?”
“The first few were enough,” he said and recapped—kind, smart, funny, fun, church, family. “I knew right away actually. I could have proposed a week ago today.”
“Katie?” Jason raised his eyebrows at her. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”
“Me too,” she managed.
“So you’ve stopped talking now?” Jill scowled at her. Katie ignored this.
“Well, since no one here has ever been married, we might not be the best group to ask,” said Diane. “But since I’ve got twenty years on you all, I suppose I’m as close as we’ve got to the wisdom of the elders. You’ve got my blessing.”
“It’s okay with me,” said Lucas though his tone was less I-am-convinced than what-do-I-care-what-you-crazy-kids-do.
“Me too,” said Jason.
“Me too,” Ethan added uncomfortably. “I don’t know why you’d want my permission, but it sounds okay to me.”
“That’s why I’m here of course,” said Eli, which, come to think of it, made a lot more sense than that he happened to be in town just for the night.
Which left Jill. We all looked at her. “It’s been a week!” she said defensively. I shrugged at her like sometimes you just have to trust that things will work out somehow, and maybe they really do know. Like they can always break off the engagement later when she really gets to know him. Like please say yes because the awkwardness here is killing me. But she just grumbled, “I’ll get back to you.”
That was good enough for Peter. He pulled Katie up by the hand he still had in his, got down on one knee, looked deeply at her for what felt like several hours, whispered finally (though, I mean, we were all sitting right there) that she was the most beautiful, brilliant, wonderful person he had ever known, and he was certain they would make a perfect life and family together, and would she be his for time and all eternity and, pending Jill’s consent, agree to marry him. The rest of us looked hard at the ground, our plates, our shoes, the grass. I willed them to go away and have this conversation elsewhere. I prayed for Atlas to wake up wailing. I fantasized desperately a revisionist scenario in which, after Jill said she’d get back to them, I said we should do the dishes and was therefore inside while they had this discussion. But it didn’t happen. “Yes” was all Katie managed. Then they both cried while they made out. I am sure it was a beautiful moment for them. I wanted to die. “Maybe we could clear the table,” said Ethan after a while. We all jumped up simultaneously and started making stacks of serving dishes, wine and water glasses, plates—