Evan Hunter - Me and Mr. Stenner

“Oh,” Julia said, and hesitated for a long time. Then she said, “What does ‘appropriate’ mean?”

“Suitable,” I said.

“Yeah,” Julia said.

“Do you see that redhead over there?” I said.

“Which one?”

“In the low-cut dress.”

“Yeah.”

“She almost bit Mr. Stenner’s finger off.”

“Why?”

“Because he was pointing.”

“Oh,” Julia said. “Well, you shouldn’t point. Here come two more people. Do they get flowers?”

“Yeah,” I said. “They’re my stepbrothers.”

It was Luke and Jeff. They were supposed to get red flowers. This is the way it worked. Mom and Mr. Stenner had asked the florist to make up little nosegays for all the women guests who were members of the family or close friends. For the menfolk, there were red carnations and pink carnations. The red carnations went to family and the pink carnations went to close friends. Not everybody had a carnation or a nosegay. But nobody felt bad if they didn’t get one, because they understood about family and close friends and all that. In fact, the only close friends who got carnations were Mr. Knowles, whose house the wedding was taking place in, and Mr. Flanders, who was Mr. Stenner’s best man. Mom’s maid of honor — or matron of honor, I guess — was Mrs. Alice Jackson, who’d gone to college with Mom, and who’d been her good friend ever since.

Luke and Jeff came in looking sort of stunned.

Jeff, the oldest son, the one who looked like Mrs. Stenner and had a beard, was wearing a rumpled corduroy suit and a shirt open at the throat. I remember thinking he shouldn’t have looked so sloppy for his own father’s wedding. Luke was wearing a plaid jacket, and gray flannel slacks, and a shirt and tie.

I said, “Hi,” and they said, “Hi,” and I handed them both red carnations, and Jeff said, “What’s this for?” and I said, “You’re supposed to put it in your lapel,” and Luke said, “Here, let me help you, Jeff,” and as they pinned on the flowers, they looked around the room. There were people there they knew, friends of their father from the old marriage, and people they’d met in the house we were renting, and of course Mr. Stenner’s agent who they knew from when they were just this high.

I watched them as they walked deeper into the room. Mr. Knowles had put on some classical music, I heard it only as something in the background. They were shaking hands with people, these two boys who within the next half hour would become my legitimate stepbrothers. I could say to people, “These are my stepbrothers.” I had always wanted a brother. When I was looking up all those names in the baby-name book, it was mostly boys’ names I had looked up. I didn’t know how I felt about having a pair of step brothers, though. They looked embarrassed. I suddenly understood what they were feeling. They were feeling, even though they were much older than I, even though they were almost grown up, they were feeling just what I was feeling. That the wrong two people were getting married today. It shouldn’t have been Mom and Mr. Stenner. It should have been either Mom and Dad, or else Mr. Stenner and Joan Stenner, but it should not have been these two, it should not have been my mother and their father who were about to get married here today.

“Come on, Julia,” I said. “Let’s go outside.”

We went outside to where Mr. Knowles had a swing hanging from a branch of an old oak tree, not a worn-out tire, but a real wooden swing that seemed to fit exactly the mood of the house. From the outside, the house itself looked like pictures I’d seen of houses in England. It didn’t have a thatched roof or anything like that, but there were gables and leaded windows and huge chimneys. A rolling lawn ran from the back of the house to a stream below, and as Julia pushed me on the swing and I soared up into the sky, I could see a lonely horseman riding past far down on the other side of the stream. I thought back to that day when Mr. Stenner and I were walking around the hill, and he’d commented about the horse and rider, and then the swing came down again, and Julia pushed me up into the air, and I heard laughter, and then I heard Mr. Knowles’s voice saying, “Of course I hired the horseman, got him from Central Casting,” and there was more laughter, though I didn’t get the joke.

I heard piano music coming from somewhere in the house, so I got off the swing, and Julia and I went to see if we could find out who was playing. In the music room we found the redheaded model who had almost bitten off Mr. Stenner’s finger, and she was playing the bass hand to something while a man sitting alongside her on the bench was playing the melody. It was nice music, though not as good as rock. The wedding invitation had specified three p.m., and all of the guests were assembled by a quarter past — with the exception of one fashion editor who Mr. Stenner said was always late for everything. She arrived at three-thirty, and by three thirty-five the minister was ready to begin the ceremony. Mom came into the music room to tell everyone they were about to begin, and then she came to me and said, “Abby, darling?” and I said, “Just a second, Mom,” and she said, “Everybody? Please come,” and smiled, and gestured toward the living room, and went out.

You’ve got to visualize this next scene.

Standing under the old oaken beams in the living room, the bay window streaming bright afternoon sunlight, Mom and Mr. Stenner heard the words and responded to them for the second time in each of their lives.

“Peter Stenner, will thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will thou love her, comfort her, honor and cherish her, in sickness and in health, prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” he said.

“Lillith O’Neill, will thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together in the holy estate of matrimony? Will thou love him, comfort him, honor and cherish him, in sickness and in health, prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” she said.

“The wedding ring is the outward and visible sign of an inward bond,” the minister said, “which unites two loyal hearts in endless love.”

“In token of the vow made between us,” Mr. Stenner said, “with this ring I thee wed.”

“In token of the vow made between us,” Mom said, “with this ring I thee wed.”

“Forasmuch as Peter Stenner and Lillith O’Neill have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, I pronounce that they are husband and wife together.” The minister looked at them, and smiled, and said, “May God bless your union and grant to you the wisdom, strength, and love to nurture and sustain it forever. Amen.”

Behind her, my mother heard Grandmother Lu’s voice repeating the word “Amen,” and then Mr. Stenner kissed Mom, and the minister leaned toward her and said in his gentle voice, “May I have the honor, Mrs. Stenner?” and kissed her on the cheek. Mom later told me she was thinking only Mrs. Stenner, I am now Mrs. Stenner , when suddenly she heard a shriek, and thought I’d hurt myself somehow, fallen from a chair, perhaps — had I been standing on a chair while watching the ceremony? And then it occurred to Mom that she hadn’t seen me since several minutes before the ceremony, when she’d gone into the music room to tell me they were ready to start. She saw me pushing my way through the crowd now, clutching the nosegay Mr. Stenner had ordered specially for me, tiny pink roses and baby’s breath. My face was contorted in agony, and tears were streaming down my cheeks.