Read Online Rules for Life by Darlene Ryan - Free Book Online Page A

was pretty “wow” himself in a gray suit and black turtleneck with his salt-and-pepper hair and beard.
    Peter pulled Dad into a bear hug and then shook hands with Jason. Dad’s hands were going again.
    â€œWell, old man,” Peter said, “this is your last chance to cut and run.”
    â€œToo late,” Jason said, grinning and swinging the car keys in the air.
    I didn’t know anything about getting married, but it seemed to me that Dad should have looked happier. He should have looked happy period, not like a raccoon squatting on the center line, trying to decide which way to run while the traffic whipped by in both directions.
    Peter reached into his pocket. “I thought you might need this,” he said. He pulled out a brown necktie, shiny, wide and ugly.
    â€œOh lord, Peter, that’s not … ” Dad began.
    Peter nodded and draped the tie around his neck.
    â€œYou kept that damn thing all this time?”
    â€œTruth, I forgot I had it. Laura found it in a box in the basement.”
    â€œExcuse me,” Jason said, “but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be old, new, borrowed, blue, not old, ugly, borrowed and brown. And it only applies to the bride.”
    â€œYou mean you haven’t told them the story?” Peter asked, with an ask-me-why-I’m-grinning grin.
    â€œWhat story?” I said.
    â€œWhen your father married your mother,” he held up one finger, “the first time, he was … well, he couldn’t sleep the night before and he … let’s say he over-medicated.”
    Jason shot a look at Dad, and a smirk started across Jason’s face.
    â€œThe two of us were waiting in this little room in the basement of the church before the ceremony. It just had this one small window, high up in the wall. And Marc was feeling—”
    â€œâ€”hungover?” Jason supplied.
    â€œThere’s no bathroom. There’s not even a garbage can or a paper bag in the room. So he grabs a chair, climbs up, flings up the window, shoves his head out and … you know. The only problem was, when he stuck his head out, his tie sort of flew out too.”
    Jason’s eyes were closed and he was shaking with silent laughter. I could even feel it in myself.
    â€œThe minister’s wife came in, thank God. She took the tie and washed it in the kitchen sink. Of course there was no way to dry it. So she decided I should give him my tie, because I was only the best man and no one was going to be looking at me.
    â€œAnd great guy that I was and still am, I did. I stood there, while he got married, with that cold, wet tie around my neck, sticking to my chest through my shirt.”
    â€œWhy didn’t anyone ever tell me this?” Jason asked.
    I looked over at Dad. His mouth stretched up in what passed for a smile, but his lips had almost disappeared. And he kept looking away from Peter. He doesn’t like this, I realized.
    Peter raised both hands. “Wait. That’s not the end of the story.” He held up two fingers. “Marc and Susan, take two. Four and a half years later. Same church, same tie. Someone brings you down.” He pointed at Jason. “Marc lifts you up in the air and you do this precision, projectile puke right on the tie.”
    â€œHey, it’s a God-given talent,” Jason said with a shrug.
    â€œSo there I am, another wedding of your father’s, wearing a cold, wet necktie.” He turned, smiling, to Dad. “Marc, you will notice this time,” he pointed to his sweater, “no tie.” He pulled the loose tie off his neck. “But I am prepared.”
    Dad took the tie and put it in his left pocket. “Thanks, Peter,” he said. “I think.” He looked around the parking lot. “Is Anne here yet?”
    â€œYou’re not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony, remember?” Peter said.
    â€œThat’s an old