You've seen those pictures in the glossy magazines of the young woman dressed in boots and tweeds who stops beside the stone wall of the country estate, her cheeks slightly flushed from the briskness of her walk, her arm reaching down to pet the handsome setters at her feet, her smile so full of wholesome radiance that you can't help but turn back later to take another look. I sat in front of a girl with that kind of radiance in English class my junior year of college. Her name was Mary Ellen.
We both tended to arrive to class a few minutes early, and over the course of the semester we'd fallen into a sort of easy ongoing conversation about this and that. She never put on airs, but you could tell she was a cut above. Not only because of her clothes and the way she carried herself, but also because she sometimes jetted off on weekend trips and didn't get back in time for class on Monday. On those occasions she would ask to borrow my notes. I don't think she had any idea how closely I paid attention on the days she wasn't there, or even how straight I sat up in my desk the days she was.
I rarely saw her outside of class. I had no illusions that anything could ever happen between the two of us. She was way out of my league---rich, sophisticated, a life waiting for her after college that I couldn't even imagine. She was one of three or four girls I had platonic crushes on that semester.
-----
One day toward the end of the term, Mary Ellen caught up with me after class.
"Hector, I wonder if I could ask you a favor?"
"Sure," I replied, "Do you want to borrow my notes again?"
"Not this time. It's something else. Kind of a big favor. A close friend of mine is getting married. I'm going to be one of the bridesmaids. But now, at the very last minute, the boy who was supposed to be my escort has dropped out of the picture." She paused to gauge my reaction. "And I wondered if I could ask you to escort me?"
I was flabbergasted. "Me? I mean, sure, I guess. But don't you have anyone else you'd rather ask instead?"
She replied rather shyly. "There are other boys I could ask. But I thought it might be fun to go with you."
I didn't know what to say.
"The wedding is this weekend," she continued. "I'm sorry that it's such terribly short notice."
So that was it, I thought. The society boys were all booked up. What about good old Hector in English class? Surely he won't have anything better to do. But the way she looked at me---hopeful, yet afraid I might turn her down. So what if I was only a last minute consideration. She was asking me a favor. How could I say no?
"Sure, Mary Ellen. Sure. Of course. I'd be happy to go with you."
Her face lit up like the Midwestern sun. "Oh, that's splendid, Hector."
"Um, what does an escort have to do, exactly?" I didn't know a tuxedo from a cummerbund. I didn't want to be an embarrassment to her.
"You'll just be my date, that's all. It's a small wedding, very informal. Jacket and tie. Nothing fancy."
A date with the most beautiful girl on campus! And in her mind I was doing her a favor.
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We drove off on a glorious Spring afternoon, with new green life burgeoning from every field and every little patch along the roadside. The wedding was halfway across the state, and Mary Ellen guided me from the freeway onto the state highway, then onto a county road. Finally she began counting mail boxes. We turned into a gravel lane that dipped across a little ditch and turned toward an old farmhouse. I parked beside the other cars on the grass.
People came down from the porch and met us halfway across the yard. Abby, the bride, tall and blonde, hugged Mary Ellen as if they were long separated sisters. Tom, the groom, shy but happy, hugged Mary Ellen and shook my hand. There were cousins, friends, a whole happy company full of cheer and optimism.
Tom took us upstairs to a small bedroom with flowery wallpaper and a brass double bed. It took Mary Ellen and me a while to realize that the room was intended for the two of us.
"Thanks, Tom," she said. "It's great." But she was clearly embarrassed. When Tom left, she said, "Let me go talk to Abby."
I hung up my jacket and trousers in the closet, just for something to do. In a few minutes, she came back with a concerned look on her face.
"Hector," she said, "Please believe me that I had no idea that this was going to happen. It was supposed to be dormitory style, two rooms for boys and two for girls. But apparently everyone else is either married or boyfriend and girlfriend, and when they started arriving today, Abby let them stay together as couples instead of keeping to the original plan. Now this is the only room left. I explained our situation. She's going to see what she can do."
I felt bad that she felt so bad. "Don't worry," I said. "I'm sure things will straighten themselves out."
-----
We drove into town for the rehearsal. The church was a picturesque, white clapboard, small-town church. The minister wore jeans and had an understated, friendly sincerity that I found very compelling. I didn't have any formal part in the ceremony, so I just watched the others from my pew.
Back at the farmhouse I helped Abby's uncle Vernon set some chairs in a big circle on the lawn. The house belonged to him and his wife Lynn, Abby's aunt. They were staying in town over the weekend to let us use the house, but they'd come out for the rehearsal supper. I helped Lynn set up the serving table. Everybody was friendly and nice. I wondered if some of the people were from Mary Ellen's jet set crowd, but if they were, I couldn't really tell.
Mary Ellen sat beside me during supper, and although she often had to buzz off on official or unofficial business, she always buzzed back again. She introduced me to her friends and laughed at my jokes and considered my opinions and sometimes put her hand on my arm in an affectionate way. She acted as if this were a real date and she was glad to be with me.
Later on I sat beside Lynn for a while. She was in her fifties, probably, her hair starting to turn gray. She'd lived in the farm house all her adult life, raised her children there, raised Abby too, to a large extent, most of every summer. She listened kindly to my platitudes and peach-fuzz aspirations.
"I'm glad that Mary Ellen has found such a fine young man," she said, patting my hand. I didn't have the heart to explain.
-----
Abby found an opportunity to take Mary Ellen and me aside.
"Mary Ellen explained that you're . . . not really a couple," she said. "I truly apologize for putting you in the same room. I had told Mary Ellen that there would be separate rooms, but when people started showing up, it didn't work out that way. I'm really sorry. I wish there was another room you could have, but we're just completely full up. I can ask someone to switch with you, but everybody is already kind of settled in now, and I'd hate to do it unless we really have to.
"So, I guess what I'm asking is, do you think you could manage to share the room for just this one night? Things will be a lot easier tomorrow. Tom and I will be leaving, and one of you can have our room then. But just for tonight, do you think you could share the room?"
The last thing in the world I wanted to do was to create problems for Abby on the night before her wedding. As far as I was concerned, there was no problem at all. But I didn't know how Mary Ellen might feel. Wouldn't she be concerned about what people might think? I tried to decipher her expression, but I couldn't make it out.
"It's all right with me if it's all right with Mary Ellen," I said finally. "But I could just as easily stay in the barn or someplace like that if that would be better."
