Age Old Questions

Marilee sat on a lounge chair, staring blankly at the ocean. The coolness of the drink she sipped periodically interrupting her deep thoughts.

She looked at the chair beside her and smiled at her companion. A honeymoon is such a special time. She knew she made the right choice.

She closed her eyes, recalling when she first met Geoff. She could still feel the booming base from the loud club music and the discomfort she felt being there.

It wasn't her idea to go to the Hole-In-The-Wall Bar and Lounge. She was more the type to find a good time at the library, not a country and western bar. She didn't like noise. She didn't like crowds. She didn't even like country music. And just 8 months out of a bad relationship, particularly didn't like the idea of meeting anyone new.

Jenn, her friend, saw things differently.

"Come on," she urged, almost pleading, "you're 29, not 69. Come out with me, have fun, dance, meet some people. You don't have to marry any of them for Christ's sake!"

Marilee reluctantly acquiesced. She put on her best jeans, the ones that hugged her curves just right. She made sure her auburn curls fell in that perfectly styled, natural way that framed her porcelain face perfectly.

And she met people. In fact, they lined up to meet her. Men. So many men. Big ones. Small ones. Short ones. Tall ones. Men in suits. Men in jogging pants. So. Many. Men. It was intoxicating and terrifying at the same time.

Marilee wasn't used to being noticed, let alone desired. She was awkward, thin, with massively thick hair and oddly sharp almond eyes. She'd become accustomed to feeling out of place, on the sidelines. Being the main attraction didn't suit her.

"I'm going home," she announced, shouting at Jenn over whatever it was Tim McGraw was bleating out. She stood up, downed the last bit of her Diet Coke, and turned to walk away.

She began navigating her way through the crowded bar, trying her best to politely say "Excuse me," as she squeezed herself between sweaty, intoxicated revelers. And then bam, there he was!

She ran right into him. Literally. She had just wedged herself past a group of girls, one of whom was drunkenly sobbing to what she thought was a clear path to the door. It wasn't.

"Leaving so soon?" he smiled widely.

Marilee nodded.

"Can I walk you out?"

Marilee shook her head.

He was short and wiry. His jeans didn't seem to fit him right. He put her in mind of a little boy wearing his brother's hand-me-downs. And he was older, much older than her. His face was heavily lined and he had a weariness about him that she couldn't quite explain. An older energy, an aura of life's struggles.

She didn't give him a second thought after that night. But he kept popping up. After the club, he was at her job, ordering coffee every morning. He greeted her with a warm smile and left a generous tip.

He asked her out. She declined.

"I don't mean to be rude," she told him as gently as she could, "but I think the age difference is too much..."

His blue eyes widened, "I'm only 32!" He seemed insulted

Marilee's mind raced. Maybe she'd give him a chance. She'd thought he was at least 45. To be honest, she was stunned. That was a hard-looking 32! She was never very good at guessing ages.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, "I thought...well...I thought..."

He smiled warmly. "I know, you thought I was older. I get it. I look older." He pressed on, "And you're what...24?

Marilee giggled, shifting herself from the growing line at her counter, "No, 29." She was flattered and agreed to go out with him.

Geoff was nice enough. A bit quirky and not as bright as Marilee would normally like, but he had a good job and seemed to have his act together.

But there was something. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it made her uneasy. She liked him. She even grew to love him, but something always felt off.

Little things, like his having a 16-year-old son. Sure, that could have been true. The son was real enough. He was there every weekend. But, did Geoff really have him at 16?

He tried too hard. It didn't make sense. There was a desperation in him, a need to appear and be unreasonably youthful. He bought all his clothes at Ricky River, the local hotspot for teenage boys. He listened to music even she wouldn't bother with. He slathered his face in cream every night and suggested she do the same.

Yet, none of her suspicions ever panned out. She talked to his mother. She talked to his best friend Tom. Nothing strange there. They backed up exactly what he said, he'd married and had a child very young, and it didn't work out.

She asked him about school. When did he graduate? He didn't.

She put it to rest and allowed her doubts to fall away. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. She agreed.

Thirteen months to the day they met, she and Geoff sat in the registry office, side by side, across from a government clerk.

After taking Marilee's information and recording it on the Application For Marriage Licence, the employee turned to Geoff and efficiently asked, "Name and date of birth please?"

"Geoffrey James Wilson," he shifted his weight from side to side.

"Date of birth...," the clerk's tone showing the slightest hint of impatience.

"November 4th..." Geoff's voice was barely a whisper.

"Year?"

Silence. Geoff turned to Marilee, his face set hard, his eyes blazing with confused panic.

"Ummm, 19...19...," he stammered, unable to get the year out.

Marilee patted his thigh. "1990," she offered." Poor thing, he was terrible at dealing with anything or anyone in an official capacity. The slightest whiff of authority always set him on his heels. He'd warned her this might happen.

The official turned to Geoff, who nodded, relieved, and exhaled deeply allowing his shoulders to fall.

"Marital status?"

"Divorced," he answered easily.

"Great, thank you," the clerk lifted his head from the application and smiled slightly. "All done, all I need is identification and your divorce certificate, Mr. Wilson."

Beads of sweat formed on Geoff's brow, just below the quickly receding hairline. He handed over a manilla envelope.

The young man behind the desk dumped the contents. He picked up the large piece of paper, looked it over, and nodded.

He picked up the smaller, laminated document. His face immediately changed from relaxed and genial to perplexed and frustrated.

"Sir..." he began, "there seems to be a small issue..." His eyes, wide and brown, like a deer caught in a headlight, darted back and forth between Marilee and her intended.

"What seems to be the problem?" Marilee asked. She turned to Geoff, "Has your license expired or something?"

He didn't respond, he sat, head hanging, staring at the floor.

"Hello?" she nudged him, "It's not that big a deal, just go renew the damn thing and then we can do this. Or, just give them your birth certificate instead."

Still nothing.

She turned to the clerk who sat rod-straight, lips pursed in that "Oh, oh, drama" kind of way.

"Well?" she spat, her voice a little more shrill than intended.

He stood up, pushed the laminated document toward her and leaned over. In a hushed voice, he spoke directly to Marilee, "I'm just gonna give you all a few minutes..." and strode off.

She reached for the paper at the same time as Geoff. She got to it first.

"Give it here!" he demanded, "I can explain."

She stared hard at him. She didn't like his tone, not one bit. He'd never been harsh with her before. She looked down at the document, a birth certificate for none other than Geoffrey James Wilson, born at Summervale Ohio...

On November 4, 1976. Not 1990. 1976.

Mrilee's heart fell into her gut. She felt her face burn with anger and confusion as she did the mental calculation in her head.

"What the hell is this?" she shoved his birth certificate in his face, "Seriously, what the actual hell is this!"

Geoff scrambled, stammering, "Baby, please," he began, "I can explain." The tears flowed freely from his eyes. "I didn't mean to lie. I hate liars, you know that..."

"You've been lying to me for over a year!" she shot back. She could hear the whispers around her. She could feel the eyes on her , watching the spectacle unfloding, a real-life soap opera and she was the star.

Marilee inhaled deeply, attemtping to calm herself. She leaned toward her intended, "You're not 32," she snarled, "you're 46. Forty. Fucking. Six!"

Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing. Geoff was honest to a fault. Scrupulously so. She'd seen him more than once let a cashier know when he'd been undercharged. She watched him sell his old Honda and actually tell the buyer all the problems it had. Her mind raced.

"You gotta understand," he grabbed her hand, "I love you. I love you so much..."

"You don't lie to people you love," she challenged fighting back her own tears.

"I haven't lied about anything else." He pleaded with her, "just let's do this, okay, sign the licence and we'll figure it out from there. No committment, just let's get this part done and then see..."

She saw the hope in his eyes. She shook her head.

"Baby," he fell to his knees before her, his voice both loud and desperate. "You don't understand. I saw you and fell in love right away, that second. I knew you were mine. But you'd never have looked at me if you knew how old I was, would you?"

Marilee sat silently, unsure of her answer.

He pressed on. "You wouldn't. That's society these days. So judgmental, so ageist. It's not fair. It's really not fair. I'm exactly the same as I was 5 minutes ago, the EXACT same person, only you know I'm a little bit older."

"I know you lied to me," she whispered.

"And you're that superficial, aren't you?" he grumbled. "You don't care about anything else. How I've been there for you. How I've treated you like a queen. None of that matters now, right?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Geoff spoke furiously, words flying from his mouth. "I can see it in your face, in your eyes. You're like everyone else, judgmental, afraid to think for themselves, obsessed with youth. You're going to dump me now just because I'm 46 and not 32. What does that say about you? Huh? What?"

"I didn't say that," Marilee started to doubt herself.

She agreed to get the marriage license and see where things went.

Geoff was incredibly apoligetic. She remembered the weeks before the wedding. He was nothing short of a prince. A prince with an open book. He swore never to lie to again. Ever. And she had to admit, she believed him.

And on that February afternoon, the weeding went exactly as she'd planned. Two hundred guests. Her in a stunning white dress with a form fitting bodice and flowing train. Even the sun came out from hiding in honour of the event.

Geoff looked handsome, waiting there, at the altar, in a tux that fit him perfectly. His tan skin glowing, eyes sparkling as he watched her walk toward him on her uncle's arm.

The minister went through his introductory remarks and into the vows. "Marilee Jeanette Baxter, do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?"

She lifted her veil. "This man?" she asked.

He nodded.

She looked at Geoff's face, beaming expectantly.

"I do NOT," she began, turning to the audience, "I do NOT take this man, this liar to be anything to me!"

The crowed gasped.

She continued, waving Geoff's desperate arms away, "THIS man is a liar! He lied about his age. Who does that? And his mother and best friend went along with it!" She pointed directly at Geoff's mother, sitting in the front row, then wanting to shrink into the pink taffeta dress she wore.

She smiled to herself, thinking about it. The food was already paid for. So was the DJ and the hall. She invited everyone to stay for not a wedding, but a bullet-dodging party. Everybody but Geoff.

She turned her face from the tropical sun, "Whadda ya think of our tropical honeymoon, Jenn?" she asked sarcastically.

"All good, you okay?" she asked.

"Yup," Marilee rasied her glass in a toast. "I'm great."

And she was. She knew she'd made the right choice, hard as it was. Because if they'll lie about the simple things, there's no way you can ever trust them with the big stuff.

Oh, and revenge really is best served cold.