“How is Sylvia doing?” Sherry asked.
“Like most twenty-year-old girls,” Señora Morales said. “All she thinks about is that boyfriend Ralph and getting married.”
Sherry doesn’t have The Little Red dessert shop anymore, but she still does a lot of baking for us and a lot of other people. She hires Señora Morales to help with the baking.
“That girl getting grown-up,” the old lady continued. “Time she gets married before she gets in trouble. Even if that Ralph is a drunk.”
Sherry said, “That’s the way people used to think, but now the belief is that you should only get married if you truly love someone.”
There was a knock on our front door, and Sylvia came in.
“Hey, Ma. Hey Ms. Sherry.”
“Hey Mr. Wolfe,” she called to me, where I sat on the couch.
“Ma, you’d never guess,” she said. “Ralphie asked me to marry him.”
“You don’t sound too excited,” Sherry said.
Sylvia said, “I am. I’m just worried. Ralphie does drink an awful lot. I don’t want to marry a drunk, plus I found out he’s an atheist. He doesn’t even believe in hell.”
“You go ahead and marry him,” her mom said. “Between the two of us, we can change his mind about that.”
That was three months ago. Sherry and I were at the supermarket yesterday when we ran into Sylvia.
“I like your engagement ring,” Sherry said to Sylvia. “When are you getting married?”
“Probably never,” Sylvia said. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Why do you feel that way?”
“It’s because I won’t marry Ralphie when he’s drinking and he won’t marry me when he’s sober.”
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