chapter 1

taking the vow

the child bride (and groom)

julianna baggott

Q

THE BEGINNING

I was only twenty-three years old when I got married Dave was twenty- six. By today’s standards of arrested adult development, regression, and ever-rising life expectancy rates, I was a child, and maybe Dave was, too. In any case, that’s what it felt like and, with each anniversary we celebrate, we seem to have been younger and younger way back when we got married.

I met my husband, Dave, in grad school at the very first party of the year. A month later, we were on a road trip together. We pulled off I-95 to have sex in a Red Roof Inn, midday. This is astonishing only in that we were so damn poor. Sex at a Red Roof Inn was a huge luxury. There, perhaps inspired by the grandeur, lounging under the orange comforter, he told me that he wanted to spill his guts.

I said, “Okay.”

He said, “I really like you.”

Now this didn’t strike me as spilled guts. We’d been inseparable since we first met. He’d just taken me to a family reunion and, on the way, he’d met my parents. We’d pretty much covered the liking, even the really liking. I said, “I don’t think that constitutes having spilled your guts.”

“How about this?” He paused and then said, “I’m in love with you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Now this, this was spilled guts. It was completely courageous and elegant—even amid the Red Roof Inn decor with its paintings bolted to the walls. I took it as a proposal. I said, “Yes,” as in I accept, as in I do. “I l...