Gentleman Nine

“Have fun. I love you.”

“Love you, too.

It became clear pretty quickly after moving to Chicago that the place I was needed most was with Christine. It was hard finding a reliable person to take care of her during the day. So, since I arrived jobless, rather than pay someone, it just made sense that I would be the one to take care of her—at least until it became too difficult.

You couldn’t put a price on the peace of mind that granted Channing, knowing I was looking after his mother while he worked. I knew how hard it had been for him as he juggled everything while trying to find the right situation for her. To be able to alleviate the brunt of that stress was a rewarding feeling. Not to mention, I genuinely loved Christine—not just because she was Channing and Lainey’s mother, but because she was a kind soul. There were lots of terrifying moments, where she wouldn’t acknowledge me or couldn’t remember where we were earlier in the day, but there were still so many moments of clarity and humor. As her condition worsened, she seemed to get more and more loving and affectionate—that was typical from what I heard in talking to other caregivers of people with dementia.***The thing about always having Christine around was that Channing and I weren’t as free to express ourselves sexually around the house. We’d take advantage of the moments she was in her bedroom to steal kisses or feel up on each other. Sneaking around was kind of fun and made our alone time behind closed doors all the more special. Everything leading up to that was foreplay. Not to mention, we now inhabited Channing’s old room, so it always felt a little naughty to be having sex in his old bed.

Even though Channing worked a long day, he always insisted on cooking his mother and me dinner when he got home. He was the better cook—even when he made weird things—so no one complained about that arrangement. Channing claimed that cooking helped him unwind after a long day. He’d pour a glass of wine, play music on his iPod, shake his ass around, and sing while at the stove. Kitty would be weaving in and out of his legs. You could take the cat out of Boston, but nothing had changed when it came to that relationship.

No matter what, each day ended with the three of us sitting down to dinner together. You never knew what you were going to get with Christine. Some nights she was fine, others more confused.

Tonight after we were wrapping up our meal, she threw out a whopper of a question.

“Can you take me to buy a dress, Amber?”

Washing the dishes, I looked over at her. “Sure. What’s the occasion?”

“For the wedding.”

“What wedding?” Channing asked.

Bracing myself, I hoped to God she didn’t momentarily think she was still with Channing’s father. How devastating.

“Your wedding.”

I momentarily stopped washing the dishes.

Channing placed his hand on her shoulder. “My wedding to Amber?”

“Yes—to that beautiful woman right there. You’re getting married, right?”

Channing and I were not engaged. We knew we wanted to spend the rest of our lives with each other, but it was understood that things were a little crazy right now. Although, the truth was, I would have married him in a heartbeat if he asked.

It surprised me when he said without hesitation, “Yes, we are getting married.”

My eyes narrowed. “We are?”

“I need a pretty dress, then,” Christine insisted.

“We can get you one,” he said.

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure. Maybe Amber can take you.”

My mouth was ajar. What was he getting at here?

Christine suddenly got up and headed toward her room. “I keep forgetting there’s something I have to give you, Channing. It can’t wait any longer.”

When she returned, she opened a small, red box that had a gorgeous diamond sandwiched inside an antique-looking setting.

“This was your Grandmother Faye’s wedding ring. She had given me this diamond for Lainey. But I want you to have it...for Amber.”

He took it from her and examined it. “It’s beautiful, Mom.”

Channing looked like he was deep in thought as he held the ring in his hand.

He put it back in the box, and his eyes flashed up at me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

I wiped my hands on a dishtowel. “Sure.”

He took me aside in the living room.

“If I asked you to marry me tonight with my mother watching, would you say yes?”

Suddenly, my pulse was racing. “Of course, I would.”

“Fuck, I know that this is coming across as really unromantic. But I didn’t want to do it in front of her unless you felt you were ready to accept. I’d never want to put you in that position. I know we said we were gonna wait a while. But I want her to see me ask you, to be there—even if she can’t remember later. I want her to experience that…if it’s okay with you.”