“I don’t know what to write,” she said. “I’ve never christened a typewriter before.”
The man hung a plaque on a nail over the desk. “Just do what he
says.”
The sign—black text on white tin—simply read, All you have to do is write one true sentence. —Ernest Hemingway. That had been her idea, too, putting a few inspirational quotes in the cabin from artists and writers. Chris had listened to her ideas and implemented them in forty-eight hours. That said love to her more than his postsex declaration he’d made right over there by the wall. He’d listened to her, he valued her ideas, he made them come to life. And here was proof of it right at her fingertips. A manual typewriter. He’d picked out the one she would have picked out because it looked like the sort of typewriter one would use in a dream.
One true sentence, Hemingway said. Joey knew just what to write.
She put her fingers onto the keys, took a breath and slowly, carefully, typed out six words without a single typo.
I love you, too, Chris Steffensen.
14
CHRIS PULLED ON his pink Oxford, tied his red rain jacket around his waist and triple-checked that he did indeed have Joey’s polka-dot bikini panties in his pocket. He did. Dillon and Oscar were holding their wedding at a waterfront reception venue on the Willamette River. They weren’t bothering with a church wedding as neither of them went to church. No groomsmen or grooms-women, either. All guests were the wedding party. All the wedding party were guests. No dais. No altar. The wedding and the reception were one in the same. Dillon had told him he could even be late as the ceremony itself wouldn’t start until about half an hour after the party started.
But Chris arrived a few minutes early in the hopes of finding Joey waiting for him. No such luck. No Joey. Not even a Jolene, although there was one very impressive-looking Dolly Parton walking around in a sequin dress and high heels, passing out glasses of champagne. Dillon and Oscar had gone all out on the ’80s thing. Tears for Fears currently played in the background and a sign over the door read Enchantment Under the Sea. Back to the Future reference, right? Long time since he’d seen that movie. A Boy George look-alike handed him a wedding program. It was neon green and on the front it read, Dillon and Oscar—Two of the ’80s Greatest Hits. According to the wedding program, Oscar had been born in 1980 and Dillon had been born in 1986 ergo they wanted their wedding celebration to also celebrate the decade of their births. Also they’d take any excuse to play the Purple Rain soundtrack and force their friends to feather their hair.
It was by far the most Portland wedding Chris had ever seen in his life. It could only be more Portland if the wedding were held in Voodoo Doughnuts with Elvis officiating.
But where the hell was Joey? He looked all over for her. She wasn’t in the time machine telephone booth with Bill and Ted. He didn’t find her in or by the mini Rocky boxing ring. She wasn’t hanging out with The Outsiders who were, in fact, inside. She might have been standing behind the Poison cover band but he couldn’t see past their hair.
He turned around ready to make another circuit of the room when Dillon came up to him.
“Happy wedding day, dude,” Chris said, giving Dillon a hug.
“Looking good, man,” Dillon said when he let Chris go. “Farmer Ted, right?”
“Joey’s playing Sam but she’s not here yet. Maybe she had trouble finding an ugly bridesmaid’s dress.” Chris looked Dillon up and down. Then he looked Oscar up and down across the room. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Come on, you know they were secretly in love with each other,” Dillon said.
Dillon wore gray pants, a white T-shirt, a leopard print vest and a leather jacket. Oscar wore a number nine Gordie Howe Detroit Red Wings jersey. Chris recognized the costumes immediately.
“Ferris Bueller and Cameron?”
“Ferris offered to take the blame for wrecking Cameron’s dad’s car, man. That’s love. That’s true love.”
“What about the girlfriend? Sloan Whatever?”
“My theory is that Ferris was probably bi,” Dillon said. “I’m not, but I think he was. Or she was his beard. Possible, right?”
“You’ve given this a little too much thought.”
“No, I have given it way too much thought. Anyway, better go get my future husband away from my future mother-in-law so we can get this wedding thing started.”
“Don’t start yet. Joey’s not here.”
“She’s not? She didn’t come with you?”
“She wanted to meet me here.”
Dillon narrowed his eyes at him. “Trouble in paradise?”
“I told her I was in love with her. It didn’t go over well.” Chris winced.
“You told her you loved her like a week after her breakup with that Ben guy? That Ben guy she was with for two years?”