Excogito Nuptiae
 

BYERS:

July 30, 2001

Juliet continues to improve. She's getting around a little better. Last week she spent a couple of days by the pool near the offices with Ally and the kids, and her only complaint was that she was still casted and not able to take a plunge. Juliet and I are both swimmers, and I look forward to having her back in the water with me.

Fortunately, not all the waters have had to be abandoned. Between Caroline's return to Ohio and her steadily improving condition, we've had some very...shall we say, creative lovemaking. Necessity is the mother of invention indeed-and sometimes, with very dramatic results.

The other night, we lie there in the moonlight, just listening to the air conditioning churn (I have a feeling that if this heat keeps up, all of the AC on the Eastern seaboard will stand up, scream, and drop dead in unison), and she leans over and touches my eyelashes-how was I to know how much I would love that?-and gives me this soft smile that I can resist about as
well as a slice of butter can keep its shape in a heated skillet.

"John," she says, nuzzling against my neck, "you have to promise me something."

"Which is?"

"That just because I'll soon have my casts off, we won't stop...experimenting."

Now that's a promise I shouldn't have any trouble keeping, if for no other reason than it's been so wonderfully entertaining. And intimate. Some of the things Juliet asks me to do, well, sometimes I was uncomfortable with them at first...but she is so relaxed, so at ease in her own body, that it helps me to ease down. It's her best gift. Intimacy is so difficult for me, but she gently, persistently, and lovingly chips away at my rigid interior, not changing what I am, but softening it. This gives me momentary flashes of something that are lasting longer and longer these days.

Peace.

At least peace within myself, with who I am. She accepts me, unconditionally, loves me so unreservedly and unabashedly.

I cannot believe I hesitated in asking this woman to marry me.

I am truly a warped man.

At least I will be if this heat keeps up, I will be. What can I say? I'm a redhead. I don't tolerate the heat well. Of course, this argument falls down with Ally, who is also a redhead and functions like a heat-seeking missile, but it holds for me. I can feel myself turning red the moment I step in the sun, either from sweat or burn.

I've had to change my wardrobe. I'm still trying to get comfortable with that.

I know it sounds odd, but when you spent your life in prep school, the idea that you would attend to any public matter wearing anything other than a suit is, well, disconcerting. I still feel naked stepping out in public without a tie.

On the other hand, the alternative is heatstroke right now, and that's not high on my list of things I wish to experience. It's probably not as bad as jail, though. My one night in the East Baltimore lockup was enough to convince me that I shouldn't get caught.

Notice I didn't say I should stop doing certain things-only that I should be careful not to be caught in flagrante delicto. There is a difference, and it's not lost on me.

I'm quite at ease these days with wandering into secret government databases, hacking into just about anyone's website-and leaving them a love note on how poor their security is, and I'm not quite as nervous as I used to be when we did our first 'funky poaching' job for Mulder in Allentown as far as breaking and entering is concerned.

However, that I should attend an appointment in jeans and a polo shirt-I simply can't relax with that one.

Particularly when the appointment in question is with our wedding planner.

Being casted, Juliet is committed to wearing skirts for the time being. While admitting this factoid to her would no doubt annoy her no end, I am enjoying it immensely. She has marvelous legs. And I've discovered that it is far less effort to remove a woman's skirt than it is to get her out of pants. In fact, if one is truly desperate, merely hiking up the skirt will suffice. I have done this-and enjoyed it. It felt so high-schoolish, but also lots of fun...trying to get her underwear off while I pushed her skirt
up, and pushed myself into her with all the finesse of a seventeen-year-old desperate to lose his virginity.
(Which, by the way, I once was).

We laughed for nearly an hour after that encounter. It was so utterly ridiculous-and hilarious-having our clothes half-on, half-off, trying to find our way around and not get stuck...but in the end I found her warm secret place, and I think the orgasm was somewhere on par with what I experienced at 17...only much more fun...

The only disturbing aspect of the experience, if you could call it that, is that I cannot remember for the life of me if we used a condom or not.

We've gotten fairly sloppy as of late...and one of these days, it will catch up with us. We really do try to remember...but sometimes, urgency and desire take over with a vengeance, and I find myself spilling seed inside her instead of the inside a piece of latex.

This could be dangerous...and sometimes, it just plain heightens the fun factor.

Sometimes it's me who doesn't want to deal with prophylaxis...other times it's her...and the ease with which we can persuade the other party to live dangerously is frightening.

And I hate to say it, but it makes the sex that much better...

I laugh at the irony of it. Me, John Fitzgerald Byers, disciplined academic, reserved WASP, department chairman, fastidious researcher...

Finally able to let go in the sack.

If Frohike and Langly knew, they'd never let me hear the end of it. From Frohike, the dire warnings...from Langly, endless teasing.

Which is why I don't say anything to them. This is like my secret life, that only Juliet and I know of, and I like keeping it that way.

And there's the issue of quantity. I could have sworn I had a lot more condoms...

Or maybe we've just had a lot of sex lately.

Whatever.

Time to visit with Nicole, our wedding planner.
 

I'm uneasy with the idea of using a planner, if only because I am a consummate control freak, but I recognize the necessity. It will soon be fall semester, I will be swamped with work, and the way Juliet and I are relating lately, we'd better get this show on the road.

Another reason for my unease is my image of wedding planners, which, admittedly, derives from Martin Short's interpretation of the planner in the remake of 'Father of the Bride' (nowhere nearly as good as the original, in my estimation). Martin Short in ANY movie is sufficient to entice me to discontinue viewing, and I found him to be especially obnoxious in this outing.

Plus, the idea of meeting with the wedding planner while I'm dressed in jeans, sneakers and a polo shirt is unsettling. Utterly. I feel much more protected in my suit.

The planner is located in DC, which is an attribute that doesn't recommend her. DC in the summer is miserable, there is no parking, and Juliet is still having difficulty maneuvering. I end up having to drop her at the curb and find myself a space for the Buick six blocks away.

Two-hour parking. This had better not last longer than two hours. While I consider attention to details to be of the utmost importance, I really cannot see agonizing over whether we should have blue napkins or mauve ones.

I am pleasantly surprised when I enter the office of Nicole, Wedding Planner Extraordinaire.

She is about as unlike Martin Short as a person could conceivably be. Tall, well-built, with straight black hair, dark skin, and a lovely mouth, she looks somewhat exotic. Her manner is warm and friendly without being overpowering.

Her only request is that we speak loudly and clearly, as she has lost much of her hearing in one ear. This surprises me; unlike Dana Scully, her consonants are still firm and clear, her vowels rounded. Dana Scully does make the effort to keep her diction intact, but the inevitable lack of auditory feedback has melted her speech into a somewhat amorphous mush. Her lisp has become intense, and the hard consonants such as t, k, d, and g are very indistinguishable.

I look around, scanning her office.

It's a mess. Piles of publications, photographs and samples clutter the place. Her computer is barely visible on her desk. The place reeks of cigarette smoke, and I can see at least three unfinished cups of coffee in residence.

I'm thinking, this was a bad idea...and I think Juliet agrees with me, judging by the look in her eyes...

Until she opens her mouth.

"Tell me about yourselves." She settles back in her chair, opens a file in her computer, and looks at us with sincere, curious intensity.

This is a surprise.

And also the most difficult thing anyone asks me to do. Ever.

"What do you want to know?" Juliet responds with a smile.

Nicole smiles back. "What you do. What you like. What kind of temperaments you have. What's important to you."

Oh, just that.

Aargh.

This is a much easier drill for Juliet. "Well...as you can see, right now I'm somewhat on the disabled list." And laughs about it.

God, that woman is tough.

Nicole smiles at her warmly. "I'm assuming this is a temporary condition...if you don't mind my asking, how did it happen?"

"Auto accident," Juliet says quickly. "It comes off in two weeks...I can't wait. I'm dying to go swimming."

Nicole laughs. "In this heat, I think it's the only thing anyone can stand to do. Except maybe sit around and drink. Speaking of drinks, might I get you something?"

"Do you have Diet Coke?" Juliet asks her.

Nicole opens a dormitory-style refrigerator...which is bursting with Diet Cokes. "As you can see, you can have anything you want...so long as it's Diet Coke." She hands us each a can, and I'm extremely grateful.

There are air-conditioning vents, and I sense the flow of some current, but in this heat, it's a lost cause. I press the cool aluminum can against my forehead. As I said before, I'm a redhead and I hate the heat.

"What do you do?" Nicole asks conversationally, toying with her cigarette pack. I sense she'd really like to smoke one, but out of courtesy to us, she refrains from asking. I suspect as soon as we're gone, she'll have one fired up before we reach the elevator.

"I'm a software engineer, former professor of computer science," Juliet answers. "Which I hope to get back to soon."

"And you?" Nicole nods in my direction.

"Professor of public policy, American University," I answer.

"Chairman of the department," Juliet adds, and I blush. I'm certainly not embarrassed regarding my position...but to speak of it so quickly seems...well, immodest.

"John tends to be rather shy," Juliet says, by way of information, and I find the blush deepening and working its way into my chest.

This is ridiculous...I'm blushing over a simple statement of fact.

Nicole nods. "Then I guess the wedding with the Elvis impersonators is out of the question."

Juliet and I look at each other...and immediately burst out laughing.

Nicole just shrugs, nonplussed. "Hey, I do get requests for that sort of thing."

Juliet puts up her hand. "No, no, we're laughing because we went to a wedding last year that had an entire battalion of Elvises-how many do you think they had, John?"

I have no idea. I didn't count, and I can't say I was particularly sober during Ally and Langly's wedding...but there were a lot of them.

"Anyone whose wedding I did?" Nicole asks, laughing.

"No...this particular wedding had a very...unusual planning staff...it was a...very unique occasion." I'm not sure how I could describe it any other way and still use what is considered to be clean language.

"Well, the important thing is that it's right for you. If that means unique, we can do that. If you're strictly traditional, well, we can pull that off, too. Most of my clients tend to be somewhere in the middle. Which leaves a lot of territory to play with." She takes a long slug of Diet Coke. I think this is a woman who is basically powered by caffeine and nicotine. She radiates that same chemical energy that Ally tends to be surrounded with, although her overall gestalt is very different. "So where do we start?"

Uh...well...

I think I was able to manage Susanne and me getting a marriage license and making it to City Hall...wasn't such a bad plan...got the task accomplished.

"It's a Catholic ceremony," Juliet says, which is probably not the point I would have started at, but then again, at least she started somewhere.

"With or without?" Nicole asks.

"With," Juliet says, and I give her what has to be a confused look. "Mass. You can do a Catholic ceremony without a Mass, but I think it's very important to my mother that we have one...I'd like to oblige her on this detail, John."

Fine with me.

Women have their own secret language, I've decided. One that, even were it the pursuit of an academic study by males, would still forever be beyond the purview of our understanding.

I feel totally useless here. Not to mention underdressed.

"Okay, so we have nuptial mass. What church?"

Okay, I'm not Catholic, so this is Juliet's domain-and she's caught unawares.

"Um, well, I don't go to one...I suppose I'll have to find one." Juliet doesn't frequently look embarrassed, but right now, she does.

"Hey, relax, this isn't the Spanish Inquisition, you know," Nicole laughs. "And the whole reason people come here is because they don't have all the answers, y'know? So don't worry. We'll find you a church. That's part of my job here."

We both breathe a sigh of relief. The idea of helping Juliet scope out a church was not going to be my idea of fun...and there would be no way of getting out of the task. At least not with my dignity or manhood intact.

"Do you have a date in mind?" is Nicole's next inquiry.

Once again, we are hopelessly unprepared.

I'm starting to have visions of doing my oral defense of my dissertation. I prepared for it, all right. I prepared the hell out of it. I even passed unqualified-no rewrites, no retakes. But some of the questions my committee tossed out at me threw me completely for a loop.

And I was able to make a better recovery on those than I am on this one.

I look at Juliet. "What do you think?"

She looks at me cautiously. "Springtime?"

I'm thinking about how we've been carrying on lately...she could be a hugely pregnant bride by then, if we keep this up.

"What about fall?" I suggest. Autumn is beautiful in northern Virginia. The colors are rich and earthy, the weather crisp and clear. I think autumn would suffice nicely.

Juliet seems momentarily taken aback. "Fall of next year? That's a long time off."

"No, autumn of this year."

Now she looks even more surprised. And worried. I should just keep my mouth shut sometimes...

"Do you think I'll be able to walk all right by then?"

I gaze hard at her. "If you can't, I'll carry you."

"Are you going to carry me out on the dance floor, too?"

"If I have to, I will."

Nicole grins at us. "Okay, okay. I think October's really nice myself. What if I can grab a church for a Saturday in October?"

Juliet smiles. "Works for me." She takes my hand gently and gives it a squeeze.

All of a sudden, the time does seem very short. "Can you pull this off in that amount of time?"

She laughs and tosses back her dark hair. "Honey, I've had to put major bashes together in a week...and done it. This should be a piece of cake."

That reminds me...

"Chocolate cake," I say, firmly.

She taps it into her computer. "Chocolate cake. Definitely."

Juliet smiles. "I can live with that. Rum cake is more or less traditional in my family, but I'll go with chocolate...besides, those rum cakes taste awful." She grins.

Nicole grins. "Okay, that gives me enough to start with."

Is she out of her mind? We've barely told her anything!

Apparently Juliet feels differently...she smiles, shakes Nicole's hand, and takes mine to help raise herself up.

How do women do this?

And why don't they let us in on it?
 

We're headed back to the bridge to get into Virginia. Now that we're not in the planner's office, of course we have plenty of ideas.

Juliet wants to wear white-she is, after all, a first-time bride-and she wants a full train, satin, and pearls. She wants to carry bright autumn flowers, she wants to wear the necklace her mother wore at her wedding, and she wants pumps, but with low heels so she can dance.

She is, however, currently undecided as to how to wear her hair.

"You know what I'd really like, John?" She's purring slightly...I can feel my face turning pink.

"Let me guess."

"Well, that, too...but what I'd really like is some new lingerie."

"Well, you can buy yourself some."

"No, John. I want some new lingerie right now. And I want you to help me pick it out."

WHAT?!

Can't you shop on-line for that sort of thing? In the privacy of your own home?

I mean, I appreciate good lingerie. Juliet has a fair amount of it-nothing terribly fancy, for the most part, but nothing she'd need to be ashamed of were she to get in an accident.

I gulp with embarrassment. She was in an accident.

I hope she wasn't wearing the red satin set. I'm rather partial to that.

"John," she says, coaxingly, gently, "I really need something to feel...like a girl again. To feel pretty in. And..." she gets this tigerish smile on her face..."Something you'd like to see me in."

I mean, there are things I appreciate...but going into an actual store, with her, with SALESPERSONS around???

She doesn't need me for this trip...

"John...I'm not maneuvering all that well yet...and yes, you're going."
 

I dislike shopping malls with a passion.

It's not that I particularly have anything against shopping. But why go to the trouble of driving to a mall, looking for a place to park, and trying to locate what it is you want by walking around with a crowd of strangers when you could go on-line, order what you want, and have it shipped to your front door?

I have this feeling that I am being led to my doom as we walk through the mall entrance.

I hate the atmosphere of these places-the artificial light, the airless ambience, the smell of truly dreadful fast food. There is a terrible sameness and synthetic feel to every mall I have ever been in.

Langly's complained that Ally makes him do certain things, but dragging him to the mall is not among the items he's listed.

If this is the case, he has no idea how lucky he is.

Macy's, Bloomingdales, JCPenney, Sears...I recognize all the generic department stores, all of which I manage to get lost in on the rare occasions I need to venture into one of them.

But Juliet's not entering any of the anchor stores. She's interested in the specialty stores, and directs me to...

Victoria's Secret.

Oh. My. God.

Please, somebody strike me dead.

Of all the horrible scenarios I've envisioned myself in, this is one that never crossed my brain.

Nothing I previously have dreamed up was ever this terrifying.

I can't do this. I'm not a millenium man. I'm not even a 90s kind of guy. I'm just your typical uptight WASP who can't say the word 'sex' in public without feeling at least a little uncomfortable.

My fate is sealed. I'm going to die in a lingerie store.

Right now would be good.

END OF PART 78