Page 24 of Meant to Be

Gary shook her head and said, “There’s no but—I just want you to think about the big picture.”

“Meaning what? Do you want me to be a public defender instead?”

“I’m not saying that, exactly.”

“Okay. Whatareyou saying?”

Gary took a deep breath and said, “Well. Didn’t you say that it was all about the laws?”

I nodded.

“Well, then…maybe the laws—and the sentencing guidelines—need to be reformed.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe so.”

“So…we need really good men—and women—as lawmakers, too….”

I smiled. “Gary, youdog. I see where you’re going here—”

My grandmother raised her eyebrows, smiled, and said, “Just something to think about, Joey.”

—

Meanwhile, as Icareened into my thirties, my mother returned her focus to my personal life. She would often ask about Margaret, pretending to be casual, making easy-breezy conversation. But the intent was clear: she wanted to know when (not if) I was going to propose. Proposing to Margaret actually felt like something of a given to me, too—we’d even adopted a dog together, a black-and-white Canaan terrier I named Thursday. But it was more of a “far into the future” given than an “any day now” given.

I said as much to my mother one day at brunch, and she looked appalled, insisting that girls like Margaret shouldn’t have to wait until theirthirtiesto marry.

“Mom, thirty isnotold. Maybe it used to be, but these days people are waiting to get married.”

“Waiting forwhat?”

“Waiting until they’reready,Mom.”

“Ready forwhat?”

“I don’t know, Mom. Financially ready—”

“You’re set financially.”

I knew it was true, but I still winced inside. “Emotionallyready, I meant.”

“Please, Joseph. You’rethirty. And Margaret is even older.”

“Only by four months, Mom.”

“Still…it’s not fair to her.”

“Margaret isfine,” I said, thinking that I couldn’t remember a single instance in which she’d pressured me, questioned me, or even so much as dropped a hint. In fact, at the last wedding we went to together, she didn’t even get up from the table to participate in the bridal bouquet toss shenanigans—which I thought was pretty darn cool.

“She’spretendingto be fine, Joseph,” my mother said. “And just because she’s not giving you an ultimatum doesn’t mean there isn’t a deadline in her mind.”

“Okay, Mom,” I said, eager to change the subject.

“I just don’t want you to lose her, Joseph.”

“I’m not going to lose her, Mom,” I said. “Everything is great. We’re great. In fact, we’re thinking about moving in together.”

I braced myself for her reaction.

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