A Little Change Of Plans

“What is it?” Pam demanded of her son. When he didn’t answer, she scanned the room for a hint, and saw the open suitcase, half filled with T-shirts and boxer shorts. She addressed her daughter. “What is going on?”

Janine shrugged, eyeballing her brother.

Adam threw up his hands in defeat, and walked over to the suitcase. He had plenty to do, and he really couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

“I’m moving out for a little while,” he said. “And I fully intended to tell you. Janine, I was going to ask you if you want to stay here with the boys and keep an eye on the place. For free. I’ll keep up the rent.”

Janine appeared suddenly ecstatic. Adam knew she’d hated to impose on their mother by having to stay with her since her recent divorce. Although Adam suspected Pam didn’t mind in the least.

“For how long?” Janine asked.

“Oh,” Adam said, trying to sound nonchalant, “about a year.”

“A year?” Janine yelled.

“Did you get some kind of transfer?” his mother asked, and Adam noticed she was trying to stay calm. He hastened his explanation.

“No, I’m going to stay with Molly for a while.”

Both women stared at him. “Is Molly okay?” Pam asked. “She’s not sick, is she?”

“No, not exactly. She’s kind of—well, pregnant.”

Silence.

Adam began folding clothes faster. “So I’m going to marry her for a little while. It’s not a big deal.”

The silence continued, and when he ventured a glance up, both women had their mouths wide open.

“She’s pregnant?” Janine finally asked. “She—you and she—”

“No,” Adam interrupted. “Not me. I’m not the father.”

“But you’re marrying her?” Pam asked. “So you’re in love with her?”

“No,” Adam said quickly. “Absolutely not in love. Just helping out. Best-friend duty.”

“Why?” Janine asked. “Molly seems too sensible for weirdness like this. And you, Mr. Serial Dater, making any commitment for longer than twelve hours stuns me.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Look,” Adam said, raking his hands through his hair and looking at his family, “I can’t tell you any more than that. I promised her. She’s in a situation, she needs help, and no one is supposed to know this marriage isn’t a real one.”

“But it will be a real one,” Pam pointed out.

“I mean, a marriage based on—on…”

“On love?” Janine asked.

Adam said nothing.

“Because,” his sister went on, “after all, you are not in love with her.”

“I’m not in love with her,” Adam repeated through gritted teeth. “How many times will I have to say that?”

“Probably about once a day,” Pam said, “if you’re going to be married and living under the same roof.”

Adam wished his mother weren’t so smart, because then he could just ignore her, instead of experiencing an uneasy internal foreshadowing.

“So, when can we move in here?” Janine asked.

“I’m going over to Molly’s tonight. But I’ll have to keep coming back for my stuff every now and then.”

“Sure.”

“When are you and Molly actually getting married?” Pam inquired, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up a pair of already folded khakis. She unfolded them, shook them out and folded them in a much neater, expert way.

“I’m not absolutely sure. Some time next week?”

“Well, as long as the mother of the groom gets a little advance notice.”

“Mom,” he said. “This isn’t that kind of wedding.”

“Every wedding is that kind of wedding,” Pam informed her son. “I intend to be there.”

“Me, too,” Janine said. “Did you get rings?”

“I haven’t even gotten breakfast,” Adam said. “This was all decided less than fifteen hours ago.”

“You need rings,” Janine said.

“And flowers,” Pam said.

“Molly’s going to kill me that you guys even know about this,” Adam said.

His mother looked surprised. “Surely Molly didn’t think you weren’t going to tell your family you got married?”

“Well, she didn’t want anyone to know it’s not really for real.”

“But you haven’t told us practically anything,” Janine said reasonably. “Besides, we won’t breathe a word. Because what if you guys actually do fall in love?”

Adam dropped his travel alarm clock on the floor and it buzzed shrilly. He picked it up and fumbled with it. “We won’t,” he said over the din. How did something this small make so much noise? Where was the damn button? He found it and the clock quieted in his hands. He almost said, We won’t, because not only did I decide long ago, when Dad died, that I wouldn’t live like him, but I also decided I wouldn’t love anyone who lived like him. And Molly is so, so like him. Instead, he just cut the reply down to, “We won’t.”

His mother and his sister met each other’s eyes.

“Do not do that,” he said.