Kansas Summer

A Story That's Hardly Ever Told

The door to the Jackson house creaks open three minutes before midnight. I hold the door open for Jenna as she steps into her home. I'm not surprised to see the living room light on, like we were expected. I gently push Jenna into the living room, holding my breath for the conversation that I know is inevitable.

Mr. Jackson sits on the couch, nonchalantly thumbing through the day's newspaper, although I know he is looking straight at me. Mrs. Jackson sits in her favorite rocking chair, rocking quickly. It's not difficult to see that she's on edge. We all stare together awkwardly, Jenna's parents looking at us, and us looking at the floor. Jenna is squeezing my arm so hard that I can't feel my fingers anymore.

Mr. Jackson finally puts down his newspaper. “That's a nice piece of jewelry you got on that finger of yours, darling. How'd that get there?” He glances at me with a challenging look. Jenna hesitantly looks up at me, telling me to answer for her. My face pales and turns red at the same time. For the first time in my life, I don't know what to say.

“Colin, honey, is something the matter?” Mrs. Jackson asks, clueless. I steal a glance at Mr. Jackson who is trying to control himself too hard. He thinks this is a game. There is no way to sugar-coat this. I swallow.

“Mrs. Jackson, I proposed to marry your daughter.” I don't know what to expect from Jenna's mom. There's silence for about ten seconds.

Mrs. Jackson's face becomes enveloped in a smile that stretches across her face. “Oh, Colin! I knew it was only a matter of time, I just didn't expect it so soon! Honestly, I don't know what to say.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” I reply sarcastically, but honestly. “I hope that you aren't upset...”

“Heavens no!” she interjects, “I don't know a better man to give my daughter to! You are kind, wise, patient, loving, and you have morals and ambitions. That's more than can be said for some other children of your generation.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Jackson,” I tell her, smiling at Jenna, who leans against my side. The awkward feeling seems to have passed.

“Just think! One daughter pledged to be married, and—” Jenna's mom pauses, and stares at us with a shocked expression. “You aren't getting married out of high school, are you? Please tell me—”

“No, no!” I assure her, “There won't be a wedding for at least another four years. Jenna and I decided that we won't marry until I have a degree and a stable job. Which could be even longer, I mean, if you are in a hurry.”

“Nonsense, Jillian, give them credit for being mature teenagers,” grumbled Mr. Jackson, “They're smart enough to set priorities. I trusted them well enough to give Colin my consent when he asked to marry my daughter.”

“You knew?” she almost shrieks, not angry, but at least a little upset.

“They're mature, remember? Of course Colin came and asked for my blessing. What were you expecting? Romeo and Juliet?” He is surprisingly calm for how riled his wife is.

“I just wish that—I would have been informed.”

“Then it wouldn't have been a surprise. And you would have coordinated the proposal like a stage play. Let them be grown up; they're both eighteen. Technically, we don't have any say in the matter.” I don't know how many times he has read that newspaper, but Jenna's dad opens it again and skims it once more.

Jenna's mom turns her attention to us. “Besides the proposal, how was the dance?” Jenna and I only look at each other.

“We had fun,” we both respond in unison.