Hello Beautiful

All of that was blurred, though, by Julia’s luminescence. Her white dress was covered with tiny white beads that swished when she walked. Her hourglass figure was hugged by the fabric; her hair was pinned up on top of her head; her eyes were bright. She looked like she had been plugged in to a power source the rest of them didn’t have access to. William was grateful all over again every time she took his arm or kissed his cheek. “My wife,” he whispered.

Rose came to find them when the limousine arrived. “It’s time for you to leave. You two have a wonderful time, and I’m going to sleep for three days.”

Julia hugged her mother, and the two women gripped hard and hung on for a long moment. When Rose pulled away, she said, “William?”

William took in the entire scene: the stone church; the crowd of tipsy, smiling people; his basketball teammates, taller than everyone else, their long legs wavering with drink. The white streamers connecting the tree branches overhead. His new sisters-in-law working the edges of the party, kissing the older guests goodbye.

“Thank you for everything, Mom,” he said. Mom hurt his throat on the way out; he’d rarely used the term — his own mother had seemed to prefer he call her nothing at all, so he’d done that. The word had long been dormant, covered with rust, inside him.

Rose nodded, satisfied, and turned to clear a path for them to the waiting car, to whatever happened after wedding, knee, and the rest of their lives.

Julia

June 1982–October 1982

Julia found herself strangely unprepared for their honeymoon, which took place at a resort on the shore of Lake Michigan. She’d spent so much time and energy planning the wedding that she hadn’t given much thought to her and William’s trip. In moments of daydream, she’d pictured them lying side by side on sun loungers, holding hands. In reality, there were heavy winds for the five days they were at the lakeside hotel, which choked the beach with whipping sand, and it was difficult for William to walk on uneven terrain with his crutches. In fact, it was difficult for him to walk anywhere. After he traveled about a hundred feet, his forehead creased and he grew pale. The steps he did take were so slow, Julia had a hard time restraining herself to his pace. She developed a habit of walking ahead and then circling back. They were both exhausted from the end of the school year and the wedding, so once Julia stopped feeling like they had to do something — explore the town, go out to lunch, look at antiques because the area was known for antiques — they were able to enjoy the last day and a half, when they barely left their bedroom.

Back in Chicago, they went straight to their new apartment in the married-housing building on Northwestern’s campus. They qualified for the housing because William would start graduate school there in the fall, and he’d gotten a summer job on campus in the admissions office, helping to reorganize their filing system. Julia immediately loved the place. It was a one-bedroom with a living room window that looked out over a quad. Sunlight poured in. She’d never lived anywhere other than the small house on 18th Place, with her parents and sisters. This apartment was almost impossibly peaceful, with just her and William. They had their own kitchen, bathroom, and small round yellow table to eat meals together.

She went with William for his checkup with the surgeon. The man examined the lacework of scars around and across his kneecap and declared his healing excellent. “Time to ditch the crutches, young man. You need to increase your walking too,” the doctor said. “These muscles need to move or they won’t strengthen. You’re a ball player, so I recommend you go for a long walk every day while dribbling a ball.”

“I was a ball player,” William said.

“Dribbling the ball is for the distraction and to get your balance back,” the doctor said. “Your wife is paying attention, in any case.”

“I’m paying attention.” William sounded offended.

The doctor looked at Julia. “Make sure your husband walks. If he’s sedentary, the knee will always be a problem. Don’t let him disrespect my work.”

The following Monday, William reported to Northwestern’s admissions office, and Julia went grocery shopping. This was delightful too. She could buy bananas, even though Rose hated the smell of bananas and refused to have them in the house. Emeline was allergic to peanuts, so they never bought peanut butter, but Julia could put a jar in her basket now. She bought cold cuts, bread, and a fancy mustard for William’s packed lunches. She took more time than was necessary, trailing up and down the aisles of the market. When she got back to the apartment, she found her three sisters standing in front of her door. Her heart leapt at the sight of them.

“I missed you!” she said. “But what are you doing here? We’re coming over to the house for dinner tonight.”

“We wanted to see your place,” Sylvie said.