[One evening. 1986. Denver. Colorado. An evening that changed everything, just as I intended it would. This is not a stroke story. There is no explicit sex in the story. In real life there was lots of sex, I just don't tell you about it here.]
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When I knocked on the front door of Donna's parent's home her Dad opened the door so quickly I assumed he was standing just inside, holding onto the knob. He smiled and said, "Right on time. I like that about you."
The door opened wide and I was motioned inside. I'd been in their home ten or fifteen times over the last year that I'd dated their daughter. I liked how warm and welcoming the home felt. Mr. Wells was dressed in his I'm-not-at-work uniform: a polo shirt, khaki pants and loafers.
We headed for the dining room and could smell the smells from the kitchen. If I would have guessed at that moment I would have guessed lasagna.
Mrs. Wells and Donna came into the dining room carrying a big lasagna and a salad. Mrs. Wells always reminded me of June Cleaver. Whenever I was invited over she was in a dress and heels, no matter what the weather was like. Every dress was the same kind, a shirtwaist of a gentle print. No loud colors or wild prints for Mrs. Wells. And, all the dresses were modest, very modest. No hint of even a bra showing through. I was almost convinced Mrs. Wells didn't have nipples.
Donna, on the other hand, seldom wore dresses. She often wore white pants; white Capri's or white shorts. She loved bright colors and her blouses were usually solid bright colors. That evening was no exception. White Levis and a royal blue scoop necked t-shirt. It fit just perfectly, in my biased opinion. It drew my eyes to the stretched material between her ample but not overabundant breasts.
We sat and the salad was passed around. It was my favorite kind of garden salad, filled with chunks of iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, a few radishes, a few black beans, tiny pieces of green onion and a good strong Italian dressing. Mr. Wells took a bite and then added more dressing. I thought the amount was just right.
As we ate Mr. Wells began the table discussion. I knew what it would be when I was invited. I had invited Donna to live with me. On top of that I had invited her to move away from Denver with me.
"So, Donna tells us you've asked her a pretty serious question."
"Just might be the most serious question I've ever asked anyone."
"Her Mother and I have some questions, if you don't mind."
"I hope I have some good answers."
"You want her to live with you, but you didn't ask her to marry you. Why not?"
"I thought a lot about that. Our friends John and Kathy got married a couple months ago. I helped John with all the stuff he needed to do before the ceremony. I watched closely and listened carefully during the wedding. I don't want all that, not for me and not for Donna."
Mrs. Wells asked, "You just want to live together, with none of the responsibilities of being married?"
"And, all the privileges?" Mr. Wells added.
"Not at all. Why would I need or want a contract with Colorado or the federal government to love Donna? Why do I need their contract or consent to care for her, love her, and protect her for the rest of her life?"
"That's the way the system works."
"A hundred and twenty years ago the way things were done was that two families got together and married their children. It wasn't about love, or even knowing each other. Someone changed the system. You didn't call some other parents when your daughter was six and make a contract to marry her off to a boy who was ten. Less than a hundred years ago women couldn't vote, in some places they couldn't even own property. Someone changed the system. Someone said there's a better way. I'm glad we don't still do things the way they were done in the past. I'm not willing to go along with something just because people have done it for many years."
"The church teaches that we should marry." Mrs. Wells injected.
"If Donna and I write the vows I am more than willing to hold a special joining ceremony, a wedding, and have three hundred people witness our statement of wedding ourselves together. What I won't do is make a contract with Colorado or a church."
"There are tax benefits to being married."
"Probably. Would you ask someone to go against their moral beliefs for money?"
"No! I wouldn't." Mrs. Wells answered.
Mr. Wells thought a few seconds and said, "I might. I don't like paying taxes that go for things I don't want or use. I still pay them."
"Mr. Wells, I have two thousand dollars in my wallet. If you will stand here beside the table and undress I will give you the money. Will you do it?"
"Certainly not! That's rude even to ask!"
"It goes directly to what I said before. I won't do the things that are against my moral beliefs. I won't ask you to either. I withdraw the offer and apologize if the offer offended you."
Mr. Wells looked at me for a few seconds and said, "If you won't marry her, how do we know you won't run off and leave her?"
"If I do marry her, what guarantee do you have?"
Donna had not said anything. Her head had turned from looking at her Dad, to her Mom and to me. It was almost like she was watching a tennis match. Finally, she spoke.
"I don't want a guarantee. God, what a disgusting idea."
She reached across the table and took my hand, looked me in the eyes and said, "Nick, I want a guarantee that you'll live with me, pay for my life, even if I'm a bitch, even if I refuse to have sex with you, even if I steal from you. I want a guarantee you won't leave."
I pulled my hand back slowly and said, "No."
She continued, "Mom, you have no guarantee that when Dad goes to Casper to the convention next month that he won't meet up with some hottie and spend the three nights in her bed. And Dad, you have no guarantee that while you're gone Mom won't invite someone over to give her something new. There are no guarantees!"
"You want something like a guarantee? Donna and I have talked about it. She deserves to know that I back my statement of commitment with something besides words. We can write a contract between us that I will pay her to live with me, with a bonus for being with me for ten years and another bonus for having children with me, if we decide to have children. At the end of ten years she can decide if she wants another contract, or she can pack up and go."
"Or, I can stay without a contract. I think I'll know at the end of ten years exactly who Nick is and what is predictable in our future."
"This conversation isn't what I envisioned when Donna told us what you had asked her. I need to think." Mrs. Wells said.
"Nick, you haven't said anything about loving her."
I looked into Donna's eyes.
"Love isn't enough. I love her. More than loving her, I am committed to her life being extraordinary. I want to spend my life clearing the way for her to achieve every goal she has, now and in the future. I have decided that whenever she laughs from yesterday on into the future, it's because I'm doing something right. Every time she is touched, inspired or moved it is because of my commitment and my actions to have her life work. My life has always been about me, my life, my goals, my everything. I willingly and without duress give that up. My life is about having her life work."
"God! No wonder Donna loves you. I believe you mean everything you just said." Mrs. Wells said. A tear slid down her cheek. Donna shed a few tears but never broke eye contact while I spoke. It was quiet around the table. No one had eaten any of the lasagna, yet.
Mr. Wells used the hot pads and lifted the lasagna. He took a good sized piece and put it on his plate. He held the lasagna for Donna and she took half as much as her dad. He turned to me and extended the dish to me. As I spooned a good sized portion to my plate he said, "Ok. Where are you moving? When and how can we help?" Mr. Wells was all business and he was in.
