ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: The Writer, His Wife, and their Afterlife
Book One, Part One, Chapter 16: Wedding Day Quiet
“It’s about time we got married,” Ernie says.
“It is?”
We’ve been living together for a week.
“How about Saturday? We’ll get the bloodwork done tomorrow. We’ll go to Dr. Krupp. My father’s gone to him for years.”
“Okay. What’ll I wear?”
“Whatever you want. No jeans, though.”
I think: It’s the beginning of September. Saturday will be warm. I’ll wear the flowery dress and glossy pink Mary Janes Ernie first saw me in.
“Where will we marry?” I ask him.
“At the courthouse.”
“Will we need witnesses?”
“I’ll ask Tom. He and I were in AA together.”
“And I’ll ask Pam. She’s a good sport.”
The first Saturday in September comes, and I put on the sleeveless, ribbed cotton dress and slip into the glossy pink Mary Janes that usually make me feel like skipping. We get into Ernie’s white convertible and head downtown. I go quiet as a stone. I feel like skipping out. I’m scared — and scared to tell Ernie I’m scared. I’m not used to talking about my feelings or even recognizing them. What are feelings, anyway? I’m not scared of Ernie, am I? Just marriage in general. The until-death-do-us-part part. Can Ernie and I really make good on a promise to stay together for as long as either of us lives? Is Ernie scared? If he is, he’s not confessing it, either.
Alongside tall, blond Tom, resplendent in white shirt, white jacket, white trousers, and white shoes, and Pam, looking totally unlike herself in a dress and heels, Ernie and I marry each other. He gives me a pewter band, and I give him its wider mate. I’m already wearing a diamond, the stone plucked from a ring belonging to Ernie’s mother that Ernie had re-set in white gold.
After the ceremony, Ernie shakes the hand of the white-haired justice of the peace. “Will you mail me a copy of our vows?” Ernie asks him.
Justice Clem Block chuckles. “You want to make sure your bride remembers what she’s just promised you, don’t you? Sure, I’ll type a copy for you myself.”
We meet Tom and Pam back at the stucco cottage. I fix scrambled eggs and toast for us, serving it in the living room. After the breakfast, Ernie and I carry the dirty dishes back to the kitchen, and I draw soapy water. We hear Tom and Pam laughing in the living room — and it’s not even high noon yet. Who can laugh so heartily so early in the morning?
“They’re certainly hitting it off,” Ernie says. Behind me, he parts my hair and kisses what he calls his sweet spot, on the nape of my neck. “Maybe we’re matchmakers.”
“I can’t imagine a more unlikely match,” I say. “The Dandy and the Tomboy.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Ernie says.
The following month, Pam moves in with Tom. They both want what they think Ernie and I have.
