Truth. Justice. Minesweeper.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Ron and Linnet were sitting around the apartment today with a notebook, making wedding plans. I was there too, reading, and trying to pretend that I had no trouble believing my ears. Linnet was talking about flower arrangements instead of pummeling corrupt cops or the evils of globalization; no problem. Ron was talking about a Catholic service instead of strippers or pretzels; that's fine. Wait - a Catholic service?

"Since when are either of you guys Catholic?" I asked. They looked up.

Linnet held up her hands helplessly. "My parents are having enough trouble with me marrying a white guy," she said. "I figured the least I could do is have the big church wedding."

"And my family's Catholic on my mom's side," Ron said. "No big thing."

"So you've got, like, marriage classes and stuff?" I said.

"The whole thing," Linnet said. "It's fine, though. My parents are great; I don't mind doing this for them."

"But they don't like Ron?"

"They like me," Ron said. "I'm just not what they originally had in mind."

"I think that's what your parents said about you," I told him.

"Yeah, well. No, I get along great with Linnet's parents. You don't like the big wedding?"

"Um. I don't know," I said. "It's fine. It's just... Seeing you two in this situation is weird. You're using aspects of your personalities that I've never seen before. Everything seems out of context."

"Well, Dennis," Linnet said, pinning me back against the couch with eye contact, "people's identities are complicated."

Can't argue with that.
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