Left-Handed Engineers From MARZ
Marlone's wedding, part I
Zephyr and Reg were at Portia's house, getting dressed for the wedding.
At least a dozen people dashed madly around the house (the reception would
be there that afternoon) which didn't help ease Zephyr's stress levels.
His mother had already chewed him out three times that morning over the
night before, in addition to her usual subtle barbs. He thought she was
blowing the whole thing out of proportion...
Admittedly, he had done what he did maliciously... but still.
Marlone had taken him and Portia to the church for the rehearsal. It
was a nice church, well lit, not overly decorated. The pastor was a relatively
nice man, as well. While they were waiting for Jack to show up, Marlone
had introduced him to Zephyr.
Zephyr was still a little sore at her at the time... the whole way there,
Marlone had implored, demanded, and threatened him to act "normal" around
the pastor. The more he encouraged her to drop the subject, the harsher
she had gotten.
The pastor had initiated some small talk: "Your mother tells me you're
an engineer. What kind of engineering do you do?" "I co-own a company
that makes custom equipment for disabled people." "Oh, that's wonderful!
Truly blessed work." "Yeah, I especially love the kids." And so on.
"By the way," Zephyr had commented at one point, glancing at his mother
slyly, "I'm gay. I thought you should know, in case that's a problem."
Marlone had shot him such a baleful glare that he was sure it raised the
temperature in the church several degrees. He had grinned back at her casually;
the pastor had stammered something noncommittal and had waved them toward
the altar in a desperate attmpt to change the subject. As he turned his
back, Marlone had thwapped Zephyr furiously on the arm.
"Ow!"
The pastor had turned to look at them.
"My mother's beating on me," Zephyr had explained, his smile growing ever
wider as Marlone's ire grew as well.
The rest of rehearsal went smoothly, but ever since then, Marlone had
been reminding Zephyr every chance she got that she was distinctly not amused.
Portia, however, was highly amused. She could see the irony in the situation,
and every time she caught one of their mother's snide remarks, she cracked
up. Which probably didn't help matters any.
Now, between reception preparations and getting herself ready to be matron
of honor, Portia kept darting into the guest bedroom to help Zephyr and
Reg look their finest. Zephyr could honestly say this was the first time
he had ever worn a tux, and he was very close to vowing that it would be
the last. Instead of the tux making him look debonaire, he decided that
he made the tux look dumpy. The shoulders didn't fit right, and the bow
tie seemed intent on being lopsided. He at least got to wear his own shoes,
which unfortunately were brown, but feet were not worth sacrificing for
the sake of appearances.
Reg, however, was looking good. Portia finally got him to stay still long
enough to comb his hair...
"My God, he looks like he walked out of GQ!"
Portia was right, Zephyr thought. In the fitted suit, with his hair combed
down, Reg was a sight to behold. Now, if only his hair would stay in place
long enough for pictures. Zephyr's own hair was looking sadly plain. But
there wasn't much he could do with it besides put it in an especially neat
ponytail.
"Who's going to sit with him?" Zephyr asked Portia.
"I was thinking of asking Brian." Brian, Dan's 19-year-old cousin, was
a friendly, easygoing guy who got along with Zephyr very well. But Reg
didn't know who he was, and Zephyr wasn't so sure that was a good idea.
If Reg got confused, it would be better to have someone familiar by his
side. The problem was, Reg didn't recognize many people. He was getting
better at recognizing Portia, but Portia was going to be in the wedding.
"I want to," said Brit. "I wanna go with Uncle Reg." Portia's oldest
daughter had insisted that she didn't want to be in the wedding party; she
thought she was too old to be a flower girl, and hadn't wanted to wear a
dress.
Portia looked at Zephyr. "What do you think? Shall we entrust him to
Brit and Brian?"
"Pleeeeeze? I taught him to play catch, remember? He likes me!"
It was true, Zephyr thought; Reg was gradually bonding with the girls.
He had even developed a habit of making toys for them out of odds and ends
he found around the house. The last couple of times he and Reg had visited
the Muellers, Reg had worked diligently throughout the visit and had a toy
for each of them by the time they left. And Brit had a point about playing
catch... one minute Brit had been begging for someone to play with her, and
the next minute Zephyr had looked into the backyard to see Reg tossing the
baseball to Brit with Reglike precision. How she had convinced him to do
that - and to get the ball after missing a wild throw - Zephyr couldn't begin
to guess. But they did seem to be developing a connection.
"Sure," he said.
"Yay!" Brit shouted, and skipped over to where Reg sat on the bed repairing
one of the toys he had made. Zephyr noticed that his hair was already beginning
to stick up again on the right side. Oh well, Zephyr thought, maybe by the
time the photographer showed up, Reg's hair would be uniformly wild again.
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