Page 49 of Pity Present
Ellen is uncharacteristically quiet. For once, she appears to be waiting for me.
I ask, “How are things going with Henry?” She doesn’t speak right away. Instead, I hear what sounds like soft sobs. “Ellie?” I only use her childhood nickname for her when I’m worried, which I currently am.
“I’m here.” She inhales deeply before saying, “Henry and I broke up tonight.”
“What? I thought he was going to propose soon.”
“He did.”
“Start at the beginning,” I tell my sister.
“Henry picked me up for supper tonight. He said he had something important to ask me.”
“And?”
“He asked me to marry him.”
“I’m so confused right now, Ellen. If Henry asked you to marry him, why did you break up?”
“He didn’t like the way I answered.”
“You said no?” I exclaim so loudly an old lady across the room stares at me like she’s trying to decide if she needs to call 911.
“No. I said, ‘Why not?’”
“Henry asked you to marry him and you answered, ‘Why not?’”
“Yes.”
“Oh Ellen, why didn’t you shout out yes? Why didn’t you tell him that you’d love to marry him?”
“Because I’m not sure I want to be married.” She says this so quietly it takes a minute for it to soak in.
“I thought that was always the plan,” I tell her. “I know Don did a number on you, but you’ve always seemed like the marrying type.”
“What’s the marrying type?” she wants to know.
“Conservative. Steady. Normal,” I tell her.
“It’s perfectly normal not to tie yourself to another human being, Molly.”
“Who is this and what have you done with my sister?”
“Ha, ha. I’m just saying that I’m a full person in my own right without needing a man to define me.”
“Ellen, did you have a stroke? You are constantly on me to meet a nice guy so I can get married and live the American dream.”
“I don’t want to be the only person taking care of you. I want to know that someone else has your back.”
“Why do I need taking care of? I think I’m doing a pretty good job of that for myself,” I insist.
“I want you to have everything, Molly. That’s all.”
Shifting in my seat, I ask, “Don’t you deserve everything, too?”
“It’s too late for me,” she says dejectedly.
“How do you figure?”
