doesn’t work out.”
“Why are you so worried, Mother?”
“Oh, Caroline, I don’t know. It’s just that you’re so different from each other! It’s going to make everything more difficult.”
I looked deep into her fading blue eyes and said, “Mother?
Richard and I are cut from the same bolt of cloth. Two peas in a pod—don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Millie said, “my turn. Take off that shoe, missy bride!”
“What?”
P l a n t a t i o n
4 3
“You heard me! Gimme your shoe!”
“Which one?” I sat on the side of the bed.
“Get up or you’ll wrinkle the dress!” Mother said, a little too loud for my already rankled nerves.
“Mother!” I said. Nonetheless, I popped up like toast.
“The right one!” Millie snapped.
I balanced on one foot and slipped off my ivory suede pump. She reached down in her pocket and produced a small greeting card for me to open. Inside was a penny, covered in lace. Love that man hard, she had written, but don’t forget to love yourself! Millie Smoak. I knew instantly the penny was for my shoe. Tradition. As much as I shunned it, at that moment I loved every traditional thing in the world.
“I made that lace, girl,” Millie said. “Don’t lose it tonight or you have bad juju. And that penny is from nineteen sixty-one, the year of your birth.”
“Millie! Thanks so much!” I threw my arms around her and she hugged me back. “Isn’t it just like you to be so thoughtful?”
God, I loved Millie so much. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thanks for coming and bringing Mother.”
“What? Me miss all this? All right then, we gone have us a wedding today? Or we gone stand around yanh yapping? I gone directly to your brother to see if it’s time.”
“Get Frances Mae too, okay?”
“Iffin you say so!” She gave me a wink and closed the door.
“Guess we have to.” This made Mother and me snicker. Everyone had kindly tried to spare me the torturous company of my sister-in-law again until the absolute last moment, and for good reason.
As you already know, Frances Mae was pregnant, but she wasn’t pregnant like a normal female of our species.
Last night at dinner she gave us enough material to keep us howling for a week. When she excused herself to go to the ladies’
room, she extended her stomach for attention, lumbering across the restaurant like an extra large-size model on a catwalk, holding her lower back.
4 4
D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k For some unknown—but surely to be discussed at another time—reason her maternity clothes had revealing necklines to entice all the men with her “ready to lactate with champagne at any moment” mammaries.
Mother said that one night she begged my brother to rub her swollen feet after dinner in the dining room and it had hallmarked the end of Mother’s patience and composure with her forever.
Maybe Frances Mae thought she was a Trojan Horse whose belly held the Second Coming. Why Trip actually married her and how he could tolerate her was a mystery of karma. Maybe she had washed his leprosy sores in another lifetime. In any case, Frances Mae wasn’t pregnant, she was so so so pregnant! Jeesch.
By now the apartment was filled. I could feel the vibration of the voices. Some of my friends from the bank were here and a few of Richard’s colleagues. Outside in the hall and the living room, their voices were strong and melded together in a dull sound over the music of the chamber ensemble we had hired to play.
I turned to face Mother. Her face was a combination of resignation and melancholy. I felt my spirits sink a little. “Thinking about Daddy?”
“Yes, how can I not? Our only daughter getting married in an apartment instead of a church? Him not able to be with me and with you?” she said, telling me her sorrows.
“Mother? You’re practically an agnostic.”
“So what? A church wedding would’ve been beautiful.”
“Small problem. I’m not a member of any organized
“Why are you so worried, Mother?”
“Oh, Caroline, I don’t know. It’s just that you’re so different from each other! It’s going to make everything more difficult.”
I looked deep into her fading blue eyes and said, “Mother?
Richard and I are cut from the same bolt of cloth. Two peas in a pod—don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Millie said, “my turn. Take off that shoe, missy bride!”
“What?”
P l a n t a t i o n
4 3
“You heard me! Gimme your shoe!”
“Which one?” I sat on the side of the bed.
“Get up or you’ll wrinkle the dress!” Mother said, a little too loud for my already rankled nerves.
“Mother!” I said. Nonetheless, I popped up like toast.
“The right one!” Millie snapped.
I balanced on one foot and slipped off my ivory suede pump. She reached down in her pocket and produced a small greeting card for me to open. Inside was a penny, covered in lace. Love that man hard, she had written, but don’t forget to love yourself! Millie Smoak. I knew instantly the penny was for my shoe. Tradition. As much as I shunned it, at that moment I loved every traditional thing in the world.
“I made that lace, girl,” Millie said. “Don’t lose it tonight or you have bad juju. And that penny is from nineteen sixty-one, the year of your birth.”
“Millie! Thanks so much!” I threw my arms around her and she hugged me back. “Isn’t it just like you to be so thoughtful?”
God, I loved Millie so much. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thanks for coming and bringing Mother.”
“What? Me miss all this? All right then, we gone have us a wedding today? Or we gone stand around yanh yapping? I gone directly to your brother to see if it’s time.”
“Get Frances Mae too, okay?”
“Iffin you say so!” She gave me a wink and closed the door.
“Guess we have to.” This made Mother and me snicker. Everyone had kindly tried to spare me the torturous company of my sister-in-law again until the absolute last moment, and for good reason.
As you already know, Frances Mae was pregnant, but she wasn’t pregnant like a normal female of our species.
Last night at dinner she gave us enough material to keep us howling for a week. When she excused herself to go to the ladies’
room, she extended her stomach for attention, lumbering across the restaurant like an extra large-size model on a catwalk, holding her lower back.
4 4
D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k For some unknown—but surely to be discussed at another time—reason her maternity clothes had revealing necklines to entice all the men with her “ready to lactate with champagne at any moment” mammaries.
Mother said that one night she begged my brother to rub her swollen feet after dinner in the dining room and it had hallmarked the end of Mother’s patience and composure with her forever.
Maybe Frances Mae thought she was a Trojan Horse whose belly held the Second Coming. Why Trip actually married her and how he could tolerate her was a mystery of karma. Maybe she had washed his leprosy sores in another lifetime. In any case, Frances Mae wasn’t pregnant, she was so so so pregnant! Jeesch.
By now the apartment was filled. I could feel the vibration of the voices. Some of my friends from the bank were here and a few of Richard’s colleagues. Outside in the hall and the living room, their voices were strong and melded together in a dull sound over the music of the chamber ensemble we had hired to play.
I turned to face Mother. Her face was a combination of resignation and melancholy. I felt my spirits sink a little. “Thinking about Daddy?”
“Yes, how can I not? Our only daughter getting married in an apartment instead of a church? Him not able to be with me and with you?” she said, telling me her sorrows.
“Mother? You’re practically an agnostic.”
“So what? A church wedding would’ve been beautiful.”
“Small problem. I’m not a member of any organized
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