there was no turning back

what is your intention with my
daughter

her father asked me.
he was Italian, old school, muscled
and
hard with
whiskey and cigars.

a tattoo of a ship was blue
on one arm.

I sat on the edge of the couch,
twenty two.
nervous,
ready to run out and call the whole
thing off.

I want to marry your daughter
I said softly.

what? he said. I didn't hear you.
I said it again, but louder this time.

I thought so, he said.
do you have any money? a job, a car?
a place to live?

yes, I said, thinking about the eight
hundred dollars
I had in the bank,

and my beat up car that hardly ran.
I had a one bedroom apartment
across the tracks

and a job waiting on tables.

I wanted him to say no. no you
cant marry her, she can do much better
than that,

but he didn't, he like everyone else
didn't stop us.

two children. deer in the headlights
of oncoming life.

and then the cake
was ordered
the invitations put in the mail.

there was no turning back.