Dirty Harry's Three Women

"Good." She settled into a pivoting office chair and faced me. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I'm glad your father didn't hurt you."

"Me, too," she said. "I believed he would bash my head in until you shot him."

"Are you sorry he's dead?"

"When I was little, he molested me. The other day he wanted to kill me. I'm really glad he's dead. I hated him."

I figured him for a bastard, but a pervert? "What else did he do?"

"He beat Mom for interfering in his stuff. She called the police, showed the bruises, and pressed charges. A judge fined him a whole bunch, and said if he hit her again he'd go to prison. Dad screamed bloody murder but never struck Mom again except for slapping. He got good at intimidating her. He would cuss, yell, rant, and threaten. He terrified Lucy and me with the bat."

I had nothing to say. Harry was downright evil.

She swung the chair back and forth. "I won't miss Dad. He was real evil."

We were quiet for a bit.

She looked at her stomach. "Do you think I'm fat?"

Be careful. "Not really."

She fingered a bulge around her middle. "I think I am."

"If you think that, what should be done?"

"I guess, go on a diet and watch what I eat and how much."

"Sounds like a plan."

She looked straight at me. "Would you love me more if I didn't weigh as much?"

Sweet Mary, Mother of God. Talk about a no-win question. "What makes you ask that?"

"I don't know." She rubbed the base of her ring finger. "Well, I guess ... 'Cause I wanna marry you." She spoke the last part so fast her words came out as one.

There it was.

She fidgeted. "Mom told me to ask. I'm scared you'll laugh at me."

"I'm an invalid. Look at me. Can't walk, can't use my hand or arm, hard to breathe. I wouldn't make much of a husband."

"You'll get better."

"Do you really think so?"

"The doctor said you would."

I scratched my ear. "How long will it take to get me back to full health?"

"The hospital nurse said six months, maybe less."

"How long will it take for you to lose the extra pounds?"

She continued rotating the seat back and forth. "The magazine said thirty-six weeks if I exercised real hard and stayed on the diet."

Time to go for broke. I licked my lips. "Want to make a deal?"

She stopped pivoting the chair. "Like what?"

"Well, there are three things I want. First, I'd like to walk again, do normal stuff."

"You will with therapy and time."

"Could you be the drill-sergeant of all physical therapists, pushing me to stretch for more, and nag me to do it in five months, maybe four?"

She frowned. "You want me to do that?"

"I also want to graduate. With time on my hands, I tend to procrastinate. I need a slave driver to keep my nose in the books and assignments on time."

"Wow. That's a lot. What's the third thing?"

"I want you to lose the pounds." I didn't care about her size. My intent was to raise her self-esteem.

Her eyes opened wide. "Really?" She hesitated. "Wait. You said a deal. What do I get from you?"

"A marriage proposal."

She stood so quickly, the chair sped across the floor and tipped over. Her mouth was agape and her eyes huge. "You mean it? Really? Honest?"

"Yes. Every word."

She took my face in her hands and kissed me hard. When she pulled back, she asked, "Can I tell Mom?"

"What do you think?"

"Can I tell her now?"

I grinned. "Do you want to wake her over something this trivial?"

She stuck out her tongue before scurrying up the stairs, yelling, "Mom? Mom?"

She would be rousing Lucy, too. I started to laugh but stopped and held my side. Miriam was a crazy, wonderful woman, a woman without a speck of guile.

My mother said, "Love is a decision, not a basket full of feelings. Romance produces all the fuzzys."

I needed Miriam's help to walk again and to graduate. She required a goal to feel helpful, needed, and loved, loved because she'd earned it. It's my opinion that when a man and woman marry, they trust each other completely. Yes, I would marry Miriam without reservation, a woman with a beautiful and transparent heart.