One day, Scott decided to join the Navy, in part for money and health benefits, especially for Terra, whose insurance blows and is a walking example of why we need things like the Affordable Care Act. I believe that in the past four years, she’s been dropped without warning or for no reason twice. They’ve refused to pay for numerous medications and procedures because they say she doesn’t need them, despite her doctors saying otherwise. Because that makes a lot of sense. Lets not listen to the doctors seeing her and treating her–lets allow people trying to make a profit off of illness overrule them. These things they said she didn’t need? An EpiPen, which could basically save her life in case of a terrible allergic reaction; an MRI needed to diagnose a potentially serious medical problem; and most recently, medication to clear up a sinus infection gone terribly awry. So the benefits–once she works out how to actually use them–will actually be quite beneficial to her.
But she still wasn’t totally okay with–and I don’t blame her at all–was him enlisting at all. She didn’t want him to go, even though the Navy is one of the safer and nicer branches (“He’ll eat like a king,” my dad says). She begged, she pleaded, she even cried in front of him–and Terra and I both hate crying in front of people, even our “boy toys,” as she calls them, to the point that you should be honored to witness either of us doing so–but he was persistent and she gave in.
Now, at one point in college, Scott called off their original engagement, dumped her, had some fun with a few other ladies (for the record, we’re able to laugh about this–hard), Terra dated Shawn, then Scott admitted he really just got scared, messed up, and wanted her back. Of course she was all for that. She didn’t just give in to him immediately and easily, but she technically dumped Shawn to get back with him. Naturally, being her roommate and one of her best friends, this meant I got to do lots of consoling for Shawn, which culminated in an interesting night in which he didn’t actually know for sure Terra and Scott were back together and said, “She’s probably talking to him right now” while he was in the damn dorm a few feet away from me. I told Terra she had to tell him ASAP. Awkward. Thanks, guys.
So, at some point after they’d been getting back into things and had given it some time, Scott proposed again. Obviously, shipping off to boot camp puts a damper on big wedding plans, so they went ahead and made it legal in a shotgun wedding with their families.
Apparently, if you’re legally married and your priest is an asshole, he can remove you from teaching Sunday school until you get married in the church. Down to just a few months before Scott had to go for his training, they were scrambling to get married in the church, too. And when the priest found out Scott wasn’t actually Catholic, he stopped communicating with Terra about marriage prep and the wedding. He didn’t say he wouldn’t or couldn’t do it–he outright stopped responding to her numerous e-mails. Cue Fr. Bob, the Punk Priest, who’s awesome and accessible and a good guy to turn to in times of crisis (in fact, I nearly approached him for some guidance of my own, but I’m shy and he was busy and so I just let Mr. Mac’s sweet e-mail make me cry instead). He met with them, told them what needed to be done, and helped them do it.
They squeezed their second shotgun church wedding in just days before Scott left–the wedding was Saturday, he left the following Wednesday. It was small, just like the first shotgun legal wedding, but I could actually go to this one, so Paul and I went. Her friend Gemma, her boyfriend, old high-school friend Rachael, Terra’s mom, and a friend of Scott’s were all there, too. It was so quick and so small that extended family knew but wasn’t really expected to show up or formally invited, but they apparently all forgot that and were pretty terrible to Terra in the days after the wedding, saying things like, “Thanks for inviting us. Have a nice life” and some other comment about “those people” in her pictures. We’re just her best friends who were able to go, guys. Thanks. Way to treat a newlywed, by the way. Not even her own brother went because he couldn’t get off work. She’s hoping to have a big, fun wedding when Scott’s home, or as she puts it, “When the Navy says I can.”
It was a nice, short ceremony that got right to the point. I like those. If I had my way, my wedding ceremony would be like 15 minutes with a party lasting as long as everyone can physically party, but if I marry Paul, ain’t no way that’s happening. Basically, the priest did some prayers, they exchanged some vows, we took some pretty pictures and enjoyed the unusually warm weather, and then we went to Bud’s for pizza and drinks. That’s how low-key a wedding this was–we celebrated by squeezing into a booth at a sports bar.
Afterward, Paul and I took advantage of the aforementioned unusually warm weather by going up to the mountains–except the mountain was not at all unusually warm and was actually still mostly snow-covered. But we walked around anyway, I in a light, flowered dress and canvas ballet flats and he dressed up but not quite as cold. A photographer spotted us and took our picture, noting my terribly inappropriate attire. We explained we’d just come from a wedding off the mountain, where it’s warm, and didn’t even think it might still look blizzard-like up there. I still need to track her and those pictures down. I have got to look especially ridiculous.