Monica's story
There was a knock on the door, and when I opened it, there was Jennifer's mother. "Hi, Mrs Matthews, Jennifer will be right back; she just went down to the bathroom is all." I'd never seen Jennifer's mom before, but I knew who she was the second I saw her; it was like looking at Jennifer at 45. She had the same long hair, the same honey blonde color, but with streaks of white in it, and the same blue eyes.
No, not the same: her eyes were even bluer than Jennifer's, more piercing. No wonder Jennifer couldn't hide anything from her mother: this woman must have Supergirl's X-Ray vision and Professor X's telepathic powers. Her hands were rough and calloused, the hands of a farmer. Her face was pretty, but severe, and she was definitely not smiling.
"You must be Monica. Tell me, before she gets back, how is my daughter doing?"
"Mrs Matthews, she
happy!
She's just gloriously happy. She has Mark, she loves Mark, and she has a whole floor full of friends here. She was so hard to get to know, but once we did, everybody just loved her."
"She told me that some girl named Rachel had told her to go get on birth control. Do you know if that has happened?" Mrs Matthews was right to the point.
"Yes, mom, it happened." Jennifer had just walked in the room. "We used condoms last night, and I can start birth control pills the Sunday after my period begins, and that should be this weekend." Jennifer wasn't smiling; she looked every bit as serious as her mother. I guess that Mrs Matthews saw that look, because she broke into a (forced?) smile, and went and hugged her daughter. "Oh, my sweet baby girl! Let me look at you!" She then stood back, at arms' length, and gave Jennifer the up-and-down. My gosh, you just look so different!"
And she did. Jennifer had on her old farm work Wranglers, and one of her old blouses, but she had polished her nails again, and had her hair back in a ponytail.
"You know, Jennifer, it was the nail polish on your toes that gave you away last Sunday, but I didn't need to spot that to realize that something was up."
Jennifer was trying to keep the serious look on, but couldn't, and threw herself at her mother, telling her that she loved her, and that she loved her father, and her brothers, and that she loved Mark. She had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes at the same time. It was as though she had kept so much bottled up so long that once the dam on her emotions broke, nothing could hold them back.
"Can I meet this Rachel?" Mrs Matthews asked.
"I'll go see if she's here," I said, and rushed down the hall. I don't know if it was a good thing or a bad one that Rachel was here, but I dragged her to our room; I think that Rache was dreading this.
"Are you the girl who got Jennifer on birth control?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am, I am. I'm the one who made the appointment for her, and I'm the one who took her to the clinic."
Mrs Matthews stunned me: she stepped over and gave Rachel a big hug, and said, "God bless you, Rachel." Now Jennifer wasn't the only one with tears in her eyes. Mine teared up, and Rachel just started bawling. "You're just so great, Mrs Matthews, and we all love Jennifer."
"I know that; I can tell. And what are these?" Oh, crap, Mrs Matthews had spotted the three Polaroids of Mark and Jennifer that Alice had taken last Thursday, and I had pinned up on the cork board. "Well, he certainly is a handsome young man. Even with the kiss, he looks respectful and kind. Where are we picking him up?"
"He's waiting for us at his apartment," Jennifer replied.
"Oh, well, grab your stuff, and let's head over to the Den of Iniquity!" Mrs Matthews was smiling at that, and I couldn't help myself, I had to start laughing. Jennifer broke into a huge smile; she knew things were going to be OK with her mother.
Mark's story
I knew that Mrs Matthews and Jennifer would be over soon, and I had packed a bag of clothes to take. I included church clothes, because the Matthews family was very religious, and I expected that they'd all go to church on Sunday. That certainly didn't bother me, though, as a Catholic, I couldn't take communion with them, if that's how things were done in their church; I hoped that they would understand. Actually, I thought that they would: if they saw that I was serious about my faith, they'd probably have more respect for me than otherwise. I was about to grab my tennis shoes, but changed my mind: they're a farm family, and my worn old work boots would look like I actually did manual labor when necessary.
Knock, knock, knock.
Oh, my Lord, they're here.
"Come in, come in." Gosh, I knew where Jennifer got her looks: her mother was Jennifer, aged up 25 years or so. "My gosh, Mrs Matthews, I'd have known who you were anywhere."
"So, this is the Den of Iniquity," she said, looking serious for just a second, and then a big smile spread across her face. I knew, once I saw that smile, that I was going to be OK with Jennifer's mother. Now, all that I had to worry about was her father.
"Well, . . . ." I couldn't help myself, I burst out laughing, and Jennifer rushed over and hugged and me. I kissed her, but very lightly, enough to let her mother know how much I loved her, without it being too much. Mrs Matthews glanced around the apartment, and I could tell that she was satisfied that it was clean. I had deliberately left the bedroom door open, since having it closed would make it look like I was trying to hide something - like I said, I have a tendency to overthink things! - but Mrs Matthews didn't take any effort to look into
that
room.
"OK, last things first," I said. "Jen told me that you wanted to take me down with you, so that you could talk to me on the way down, and that's fine, but I have a job up here, and I absolutely have to be back here by 4:30 on Sunday." If that's too soon, I can take my own car down, you can ride with me, and Jen can drive your car home." I had spent some time thinking this one out.
"'Jen,' huh?"
"Mom, he's the only who's ever called me that, and I love it."
"I have to respect a responsible young man, and don't you worry one bit: your trust in me makes your responsibility mine, and I will get you back here on time."
I grabbed my bags, and we headed down to the car. "You know, I'm going to want to talk to both of you on the way down, and with both of you in the car, it might seem a bit awkward sometimes, but you'll just have to handle that. Jennifer can tell you that I can be
very
direct."
We put my bags in the trunk of this old Plymouth Valiant, and Jen directed her mom how to get back to the streets that she knew.
"So, Jennifer, why do you 'love it' that he calls you 'Jen?'"
"It's simple, and sweet, like a special nickname that only Mark uses for me." Then she continued, "You know, my very first clue was the day that Mark rescued me from an overload of books. I was walking up these awkward steps and starting to lose the stuff I was carrying, and Mark swooped in and caught them, and carried them to my class,and he called me 'Jenny.' No one had ever called me that, either, and that made it special."