money, but if I stand in the way of it they’ll dislike me even more. If that’s possible. All I want is to marry you and leave Lincoln.”
During the weeks before the wedding, Janet was unusually quiet in the presence of Mark’s mother. She wanted to avoid any scenes or unpleasantness. They had already had a confrontation about the rings. Janet stood firm on few issues because all she really wanted was Mark. The whole process was simply a means to an end.
But Janet stood firm about the rings.
“I want eighteen-carat gold bands. Plain and simple,” she explained to her future mother-in-law.
“Eighteen carat is so soft! It loses its shine.”
“I know, Mrs. Collinsworth. That’s why I like it. It ages, matures, with the marriage.”
Janet’s parents wore eighteen-carat gold bands. Their bands were scuffed and battered, but still golden like their marriage that had weathered the trials and joys of their twenty-five years together. Janet hoped her marriage to Mark would be as durable, as wonderful despite the hardships, as her parents’. Janet wanted bands like theirs. For luck.
Janet won that battle and secured her victory by quickly ordering the rings. They were engraved with their initials, the date and a single word: Always.
Mrs. Collinsworth persisted. An eighteen-carat gold band could be overlooked if the diamond was set properly.
“Have you and Mark chosen a diamond? You should probably get one of at least a carat.”
“Diamonds are so expensive!” So frivolous, Janet thought, at a time when they knew they would be going into debt. Even if money wasn’t an issue, Janet wouldn’t have wanted one.
“We’ll buy it for you. Or lend Mark the money to be repaid on your twentieth anniversary. Or”—Janet watched Mrs. Collinsworth almost choke on the next words—“you could have my mother’s diamond. I’m sure she would have wanted Mark’s wife to have it. It’s almost two carats, emerald cut, flawless.”
“No, thank you. No diamond. Really, I’m just not the type.”
Not the type is right, Mrs. Collinsworth thought. Not Mark’s type. Not our type. And she won’t let us make her better.
“With just the two plain gold bands,” Mark’s mother persevered, “it looks like a shotgun wedding. You know, dear, like you have to get married.”
“We do have to get married, Mrs. Collinsworth,” Janet said as she leveled her eyes, steel gray and serious, at her future mother-in-law’s startled, blinking ones. Janet added, softly, carefully, “We have to get married because we love each other.”
Chapter Five
During Mark’s first two years of medical school, Janet worked as a secretary-receptionist in a neurosurgeon’s office all day and had dinner ready for Mark when he got home from his afternoon classes. Mark spent most evenings at the library or in the anatomy lab, and Janet spent her evenings performing in community theater productions. She and Mark arrived home about midnight, made love and fell asleep.
During Mark’s third and fourth years when he was on the wards, doing clerkships, being on call with his team, his schedule was erratic and unpredictable. If Janet was gone in the evenings, she might go for days without really seeing him. Janet decided to stop performing. It was an easy decision. She wanted to be with Mark whenever she could. Still, she missed it.
On March fifteenth of his fourth year, Mark learned that he matched for an internal medicine internship at the University of California in San Francisco. It was his first choice. Two months later, he learned that he would graduate from medical school with highest honors.
Two weeks before graduation, Mark’s moodiness, the moodiness that would ultimately drive them apart, first surfaced.
Janet had seen glimpses of it in high school, when the pressure got too great, and his father talked about Mark hanging out his shingle below his, and when Mark told her how much he enjoyed his English classes.
But in high school and
During the weeks before the wedding, Janet was unusually quiet in the presence of Mark’s mother. She wanted to avoid any scenes or unpleasantness. They had already had a confrontation about the rings. Janet stood firm on few issues because all she really wanted was Mark. The whole process was simply a means to an end.
But Janet stood firm about the rings.
“I want eighteen-carat gold bands. Plain and simple,” she explained to her future mother-in-law.
“Eighteen carat is so soft! It loses its shine.”
“I know, Mrs. Collinsworth. That’s why I like it. It ages, matures, with the marriage.”
Janet’s parents wore eighteen-carat gold bands. Their bands were scuffed and battered, but still golden like their marriage that had weathered the trials and joys of their twenty-five years together. Janet hoped her marriage to Mark would be as durable, as wonderful despite the hardships, as her parents’. Janet wanted bands like theirs. For luck.
Janet won that battle and secured her victory by quickly ordering the rings. They were engraved with their initials, the date and a single word: Always.
Mrs. Collinsworth persisted. An eighteen-carat gold band could be overlooked if the diamond was set properly.
“Have you and Mark chosen a diamond? You should probably get one of at least a carat.”
“Diamonds are so expensive!” So frivolous, Janet thought, at a time when they knew they would be going into debt. Even if money wasn’t an issue, Janet wouldn’t have wanted one.
“We’ll buy it for you. Or lend Mark the money to be repaid on your twentieth anniversary. Or”—Janet watched Mrs. Collinsworth almost choke on the next words—“you could have my mother’s diamond. I’m sure she would have wanted Mark’s wife to have it. It’s almost two carats, emerald cut, flawless.”
“No, thank you. No diamond. Really, I’m just not the type.”
Not the type is right, Mrs. Collinsworth thought. Not Mark’s type. Not our type. And she won’t let us make her better.
“With just the two plain gold bands,” Mark’s mother persevered, “it looks like a shotgun wedding. You know, dear, like you have to get married.”
“We do have to get married, Mrs. Collinsworth,” Janet said as she leveled her eyes, steel gray and serious, at her future mother-in-law’s startled, blinking ones. Janet added, softly, carefully, “We have to get married because we love each other.”
Chapter Five
During Mark’s first two years of medical school, Janet worked as a secretary-receptionist in a neurosurgeon’s office all day and had dinner ready for Mark when he got home from his afternoon classes. Mark spent most evenings at the library or in the anatomy lab, and Janet spent her evenings performing in community theater productions. She and Mark arrived home about midnight, made love and fell asleep.
During Mark’s third and fourth years when he was on the wards, doing clerkships, being on call with his team, his schedule was erratic and unpredictable. If Janet was gone in the evenings, she might go for days without really seeing him. Janet decided to stop performing. It was an easy decision. She wanted to be with Mark whenever she could. Still, she missed it.
On March fifteenth of his fourth year, Mark learned that he matched for an internal medicine internship at the University of California in San Francisco. It was his first choice. Two months later, he learned that he would graduate from medical school with highest honors.
Two weeks before graduation, Mark’s moodiness, the moodiness that would ultimately drive them apart, first surfaced.
Janet had seen glimpses of it in high school, when the pressure got too great, and his father talked about Mark hanging out his shingle below his, and when Mark told her how much he enjoyed his English classes.
But in high school and
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