Work Text:
Scene One: Decisions
Lydia and Beetlejuice came tumbling through the mirror and onto her bedroom floor, clutching each other and screeching with laughter.
“That was way too close,” gasped Lydia. “If anyone had seen us, if they knew I’d done it . . .” She giggled weakly, trying to sit up without losing her grip on her accomplice.
Beetlejuice had a hand over his eyes, still cackling. “Babes, you were magnificent! And the best part – they’ll never suspect it was you! I’m so proud of you,” he grinned at her affectionately. “You’re a gal after my own heart.”
She grabbed him around the neck. “I thought I had your heart, mister. And you better give me the right answer or . . .”
“Yeah, what?” He nuzzled her neck.
“I’ll kiss you to death!” She tightened her arms and tried to scowl.
The ghost sighed. “What a way to go. But you’re too late, Lyds. I’m too late.” He started cackling again.
“I’m so glad you thought of Mr. Monitor,” she loosened her hold a bit. “Pranking the mayor and Monitor in one afternoon – that has to be a Neitherworld record!”
“Monitor’s needed a gila monster in his shorts for a long time now. And he and the mayor finally have something in common! You really did great, Lyds.” He hugged her gleefully.
She hugged him back. “Using your juice felt really weird the second time, kind of like an electrical charge or a huge static shock.”
“Hey, it didn’t hurt you, did it? It went okay when we practiced.” He picked up her right hand and examined the fingers with an expression of deep concern on his face. “You’re not burned or anything. You really okay?”
She pulled his face closer. “Of course, I’m okay, you big worry-wart. It went fine! It was probably just channeling your juice twice in one day. And it was genius for your alibi to be a security guard!”
“Well, you know what a problem is it for me to fold up a map, Lyds. And since I was blocking the door, he had to help me.” Beetlejuice’s grin could not have been any wider. He looked over her shoulder at her desk. “Hey, you’ve got mail,” he said. “Something big, too.”
Reluctantly, she rolled away from her more-than-best-friend and stood to pick up a large manila envelope with an intricate design on the front. “Oh!” she said eagerly. “This is what I’ve been waiting for!” She opened it and pulled out a letter and a colorful folder. “Give me a minute, Beej. This is something important, something that just might . . .”
Beetlejuice floated up and over to hover next to her shoulder while she scanned the letter quickly. Idly, he picked up a strand of her hair and ran his fingers over it. He really liked it when she wore her hair down; more of it was accessible.
“Yes! This is just what I need! Classes in textile manufacturing and marketing and pattern making and construction . . . and more! I hope you don’t have any plans for next summer.” Lydia turned to him with a big smile.
At once, he pulled an enormous datebook out of his jacket pocket and checked it carefully. “Annual Burrowing Bugfest in April. May’s the Poison Plant Jubilee. June . . . oh, look, there’s a graduation in June!”
“Only nine more months, and I can’t wait!” She reached up and ruffled his hair, being glad yet again that he’d rid it of wildlife since she’d been afraid of hurting or disturbing something. “But this would be in July and August, for six weeks.”
He pushed his head against her hand, wanting more ruffling. “What would?”
“Boot camp!” she said excitedly. “I talked to the school guidance counselor last week and she gave me the address of a well-known fashion academy. This is their reply and it sounds perfect! They run a six-week ‘boot camp’ every summer. It’s really intensive, but it would be just what I need. I was thinking . . .” She handed Beetlejuice the folder, then put her hand on his forearm. “You’ll go, too, right? You could help me with the work like you always have. And . . . just be there with me.”
“Hmm. You know I’ll go wherever you go.” He was flipping through the pages of the folder; when he came to the list of courses in the summer, he stopped and read through it. “It does sound like what you were talking about, Lyds. You know, I bet they need models for all those fashions. What do you think?” He struck a pose, something similar to a scarecrow.
Lydia chuckled. “Mostly, we’ll be concentrating on women’s fashions, Beej.” She bit her lip, smiling, then added, “Designers have to understand anatomy, you know. Maybe we should use some nude models to understand how to fit clothes better. You still volunteering?”
Beetlejuice widened his eyes in mock shock, then grinned at her. “For women’s clothes? I don’t think you want Betty Juice to model for anyone.” He snorted. “So you going to apply?”
“I should tell Mother and Father what I’ve decided before I do. And if they won’t pay for it, then I’ll have to figure out how to pay for it myself.” At that her mood plummeted from anticipation to depressed. “But how do I get them to believe I’m serious about this? Every single time I try to explain college is not what I want, they just ignore me. They don’t take me seriously. They don’t listen to me. They’ve never listened to me!”
“C’mon, babes, you’ll get through to them; you never just give up. And you’re going to be great at whatever you do. You know I’ll be right there with you as long as . . . you want me to be.” Beetlejuice was still thumbing through the folder, trying to sound casual and not needy.
“You are the most insecure person I have ever known!” Lydia wore a look of feigned astonishment.
“Okay, just how many insecure people have you known? Give me the Top Ten Insecure People Lydia Deetz Has Known!”
She laughed, caught his shirt to pull him to her, and proceeded to kiss his face, neck, and ears.
Beetlejuice floated down to stand next to her and did some kissing of his own, running his hands over her back, then along her ribs to her stomach, and then somewhat higher.
Lydia moaned softly into his mouth and pushed one hand into his hair while she ran the other down his side to his belt. She slid that hand gently inside his waistband and then protested in disappointment and frustration when he abruptly pulled away from her. “Beej!” she complained. But he had made one rule and stuck to it. Their relationship was not going any further until Lydia had at least turned eighteen, and that was almost two months away, at the end of October. She’d rebelled, but he wouldn’t budge on that, not when he had decided it and not now.
“You think this is easy for me, Lyds? It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” He tried to control his breathing. “C’mon, babes. You ought to understand this better than I do. It’s because of the way . . . I feel about you. You know, trying to -” he waved his hands around a bit, “. . . protect you so if you change your mind or . . . meet somebody or . . .you know . . .” he trailed off miserably.
Lydia objected. “That is not going to happen! I wish you could trust what I feel for you. And I should get some say in what we do; it should be a joint decision!”
“Babes, just look at me.”
“I am, and you are so cute.”
“Cute? Me?” He was astounded. Then pleased. Then shy. “You really think so?”
“As a button,” was the answer, along with another kiss.
“A button? I am so much cuter than any . . . wait a minute.” Beetlejuice took a breath. “Lyds, look at me. I’m insecure and clingy and repressed and immature and . . . dead – that’s a big one – and . . . boorish and . . . smelly – ”
“You are not smelly,” she said indignantly. “You just have your own unique aroma.”
He gave her a look of adoration. “You are so besotted.”
“Yes, I am. And no one could ever compare to you. No one else could possibly love me as much as you do, or always put me first, or consider me over his own lust.” She batted her eyes at him.
“Lust, huh? I prefer to call it ardor.” He took her hand and kissed it. “But seriously, babes, you know you could do so much better than me. You’re beautiful and smart and talented and beautiful and strong and brave and kind and – ”
“Beautiful?” she suggested.
“That’s the word I was looking for!” He hugged her close and whispered into her ear, “You know, your folks could walk in any minute.”
“How romantic,” she cooed. Then she sighed and leaned her forehead against his neck. “I know we’ve talked about this, and I know we should tell them we’re . . . serious about each other, but it’s going to be really hard and I just want to get this whole not-going-to-college thing over first.”
Beetlejuice shrugged and patted her back. “It’s your call, babes. I’ve always said it’s up to you how and when.” He got an wicked look on his face. “But I am looking forward to seeing their faces.”
Scene Two: Nightmare and Aftermath
“What?!” Beetlejuice bolted upright out of a sound sleep, looked around wildly, and threw himself through the mirror. He produced a light above his head and scanned the dark bedroom, searching for Lydia, starting to panic when he couldn’t see her.
A strangled noise came from her bed and he turned as she tumbled out, sheets and blanket wrapped around one ankle, and ran to him, whimpering, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”
He clutched her to him and gasped, “Are you okay? Lydia, are you all right?”
“Yes,” she mumbled into his pajama top. “I’m okay, and I’m so sorry. It was just a bad dream . . . a stupid bad dream, and I kept trying to Call you in the dream and I guess I woke up saying your name.”
“Screaming it more like.” He rubbed her back and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Just breathe, okay? I’ve got you.”
She rested against him, her heart rate gradually slowing. “It was my parents. I’ve been thinking so much about getting through to them that I guess my subconscious took over,” she said unhappily. “I dreamed that somehow they were being chased by a sandworm and I had to save them, but . . . I needed your help so I tried to Call you.”
Beetlejuice juiced her covers back onto the bed, then picked her up and carried her to it. He perched on the side of the bed, with Lydia on his lap, nestling her head in the junction of his shoulder and neck. “You’ve got to go ahead and settle this, babes. Sit them down tomorrow and have it out with them. I need my beauty sleep, you know.”
She sighed. “I know. Would it help if I apologized for half an hour?”
“C’mon, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you agonizing over this any more.” He snuggled her a little closer. “Just tell them flat out what you’re going to do and let them deal with it. You’ve only got a year left, babes. Once you graduate and take those summer courses, you’ll be living your life on your own terms.
“I really do know. I’m just letting it all get to me.” She yawned. “I’m such a dope.”
He yawned in response. “You’re not a dope. But you have to do what’s right for you, Lyds.”
“You’re right for me.” She hugged him tightly.
He nuzzled the back of her neck and muttered into her hair, “You know I feel the same way about you.”
“I do. And I’m so sorry I woke you up.”
“Hey, I wasn’t really asleep,” he yawned again. “Just resting my eyes.” He turned and gently lowered her onto the bed and pulled the covers over her. “You want me stay until you fall asleep?”
She pulled him down for a quick kiss, then said, “No, I’m okay now. You go on back.”
He shook his head. “I’ll stay a few minutes.” He climbed onto the bed and lay next to her, propping his head on his hand. “Just want to make sure you’re asleep before I go.”
Scene Three: Heart of the Matter
Lydia slept peacefully, one hand folded against Beetlejuice’s chest, clasping his pajama top; her other arm was draped over his ribs. His left arm curled around her head, which was nestled against his neck, and his right wrapped her shoulders. They lay in perfect and innocent sleep.
Delia, on the way downstairs to start breakfast, opened Lydia’s bedroom door a crack, thinking to let her sleep if she hadn’t woken yet. It was the weekend, after all. Though the shades were drawn, Delia could just make out a rather larger lump on the bed than she was used to seeing. Puzzled, she walked two steps into the room and her brain finally translated the sight into two bodies, lying close together, one with a familiar blond mane.
Alarmed, appalled, and aghast, Delia drew back, a hand to her throat. As she filled her lungs to scream for her husband, she suddenly noticed “Mr. Beetleman” was wearing pajamas. Pink, beetle-patterned pajamas. And was not under the covers with Lydia. Fuzzy pink pajamas didn’t really make sense for a seduction. She frowned, puzzled, then took a closer look and it occurred to her that the two cuddled together were actually sort of . . . cute. In fact, almost adorable. Maybe it was the pajamas. Behind her, hungry for his breakfast, Charles peered in to see what was taking so long.
His reaction was quite different from his wife’s. He froze for an instant, then marched into Lydia’s bedroom and yanked the curtains open. When that had no effect, he cleared his throat, loudly and threateningly. That also failed to wake the twosome. He finally resorted to shouting. “Beetleman! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
With Charles Deetz’s first word, Beetlejuice started awake. He looked over his shoulder at an enraged parent and then turned back to the young woman lying in his arms. Lydia was also now awake, but still blinking in confusion.
“Hey, babes,” the ghost murmured, “good morning.” He gave her a quick hug. “I think I messed up. Big time.”
Charles snorted angrily. “Yes, you certainly did. There can be no possible excuse -”
Lydia rested a hand on Beetlejuice’s cheek. “Did you fall asleep here? And then my parents came in and found us.”
“Yeah. My fault, completely,” he admitted. “Remember asking if you should apologize for half an hour? Maybe I should do that for about three days.”
Charles had trailed off when he realized neither his daughter nor ‘the intruder’ was listening to him. They somehow had shut out everything but themselves.
“How do you want to handle this, Lyds?” Beetlejuice sat up and helped Lydia to a sitting position, too.
“How does she want to handle this?” fumed Lydia’s father. “I want an explanation, right now!”
“Yes, indeed. And make it a good one!” was Delia’s contribution.
“Mother, Father,” Lydia began, “I, uh . . . had a bad dream and called . . . ‘Mr. Beetleman’ and he came over and . . .”
“Lyds, really?” the ghost interrupted her. “You called ‘Mr. Beetleman’ because of a bad dream? You can do better than that.”
“And just how did he get up here – into your bedroom, Lydia?” Charles was stern, implacable, and ignored.
Lydia shrugged. “I am trying to stick to the truth,” she said to Beetlejuice. “Although maybe not quite all of it,” she added quietly and nodded with significance at her mirror. “And I did call you because I had a bad dream. It’s hardly my fault you were in your pajamas.” She gave him an tiny impish smile.
“Oh yeah, you wanted to wait until I changed and maybe had something to eat and read the paper. Lyds, come on.”
Charles Deetz, the Invisible Man, seethed at the way they managed to tune everything out so completely. They were the ones in trouble, yet he was on the outside looking in while they discussed it.
“If you two could possibly get out of that bed!” he said fiercely, through gritted teeth.
Beetlejuice quickly rolled off the bed, then helped Lydia clamber out. They looked at each other then stood before her parents, holding hands.
Delia noticed with pleasure how nicely the pink pajamas complemented Lydia’s purple bat-themed nightgown.
“Look,” said Beetlejuice, ‘let me try. Chuc . . . uh, Mr. Deetz, I really did come here because your daughter had a nightmare and called me. I didn’t know how serious it was, so I didn’t take time to get dressed and once she was okay I made her go back to bed to get some sleep. The rest of it is all my fault. I just wanted to make sure she was asleep before I left and I . . . guess I dropped off myself.” He paused, then added, “That’s it. And nothing happened between us.”
Delia nodded reassuringly in response to this and even essayed a small smile at him.
Charles, irate, clenched his hands and turned to his daughter. “Lydia. Is that really what happened? Tell me the truth. If this man is threatening you or has hurt you in any way -”
“What! I would never hurt her.” Beetlejuice was incredulous and annoyed.
Lydia stepped between the two and assured her father, “He would never hurt me and everything he said was the truth. And I think it’s time we told you that we, BJ and I, have been best friends for more than five years now.” She ignored her father’s look of astonished anger and continued. “We also realized earlier this year that we’re in love but -” she conveniently ignored the caresses and gentle gropings they’d both indulged in, “- all we’ve ever done is kiss. We’ve never . . .” She gestured vaguely at the bed. “Maybe we should have told you about us, but if we had . . . if we’d been open with you, you would have tried to keep us apart. Wouldn’t you? And I couldn’t possibly accept that.”
Delia gasped, “But Lydia! How can you be in love with Mr. Beetleman? He’s so . . . grungy.” She considered for a moment, then added, “Although the pajamas are really cute. Where did you get them?”
Charles ignored his wife and swept an arm toward Beetlejuice. “That’s your best friend?! That’s what you fell in love with?! That . . . that handyman? That older . . . grimy . . . you called that pervert to come to your bedroom in the middle of the night?!”
“Hey!” Beetlejuice had finally had enough of this. “Why don’t you try asking yourself why she didn’t call you, Chuckie? Or Deels? You were both right down the hall here! But maybe she’s used to you not listening to her, not even hearing her. Maybe she’s used to you not wanting to take care of your own flesh and blood! Who did she have when you first moved here? I don’t remember seeing either of you around when she was crying her eyes out with loneliness! You just left her alone to figure things out by herself. You ignored her! You -” he stabbed a finger at Charles, “were off in your den with mood music and breathing exercises trying to relax.” He turned to Delia. “And you were in your studio pretending to be all artistic! Neither one of you even checked on her once in a while to see how she was doing. Neither one of you cared!” He suddenly lowered his head and his voice. “But I did.”
Charles was stunned into silence.
Delia tentatively extended a hand toward the young woman she’d never understood. “Did we really, Lydia? Did we . . .”
Lydia stepped back to stand beside Beetlejuice, but turned to face her parents. “He’s right. You did. And he’s not a pervert, or a handyman!” She visibly strove to be calm. “And maybe each of you thought the other was taking care of me all those weeks, or maybe you were trying to teach me to be independent. I don’t know and it doesn’t matter now.”
Beetlejuice muttered at her. “You’re just making excuses for them, Lyds.”
“But even if you didn’t mean to do it, I have learned to be independent, thanks to BJ. I’ve learned to make my own decisions and my own choices. I am not going to college; I am going to study fashion design; and BJ is my best friend and my one true love.”
Her one true love’s mouth fell open and he stared at her in gratified devotion.
Lydia studied her parents’ faces and found disbelief, anger, confusion. “BJ has always been there for me, whether I needed someone or not. He’s always been right beside me, accepting me for what and who I am, even liking me because of it. You always wanted me to change, to be something I’m not, but he helped me to be me and to be happy with it.” She turned back to Beetlejuice and once again they excluded everyone else. “You gave me everything. Confidence, self-respect, help and support in whatever I wanted to do, unconditional friendship and love. You’ve given me my life, Beej.”
He stared down at his bare feet then held out a hand to her without looking up. “You know I’d give you anything, babes. Do anything for you.” Holding Lydia’s hand in his, Beetlejuice sighed, then turned to Charles and said in his very best ‘upper-class’ voice, “Sir, since you feel I have impugned your daughter’s reputation, I solicit the honor of her hand in marriage.”
Lydia, though impressed with BJ’s dignity and aplomb, was still shocked by his offer. She said, “No!” emphatically. “It’s not going to be like this! I won’t have you feeling forced into proposing!”
At the same instant that Lydia spoke, her father said, “That’s ridiculous!” But he knew at once that he’d been pushed aside again. It occurred to him that he might as well be a ghost and he gave up any further attempt to intervene or even comment. For once, he moved closer to his wife, unthinkingly seeking comfort.
For once, Delia gave it, extending her hand to him and pulling him to her side, without taking her eyes from the couple in front of her.
“Babes,” Beetlejuice said tenderly, “it wouldn’t exactly be a shotgun wedding. I was thinking about asking you . . . sometime, maybe after you graduated or turned twenty-one or something. Besides, Chuckie wouldn’t know which end of the shotgun to point at me, much less how to load the thing.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand and smiled at her. “So, it’s not like I’m really being forced. It’s just I didn’t think it might happen until . . . years from now, maybe, when you were ready.”
“I’m ready right now,” she said softly. “But I refuse to have you feeling like you have to do this. If I said yes now, I’d always be afraid that you only asked because you felt forced to.” She gently squeezed the hand she was holding. “But I have another idea. One that would make me sure that you’re not feeling obliged to do something you don’t want. If you’re not ready for this, then say no . . . but Beej, you know how much I love you. Will you marry me?”
Beetlejuice was utterly taken aback. “Lyds . . . I only made the offer to make things okay with your folks. I wanted to make things right for you and I figured you could just back out later. I mean, you don’t know yet . . . you can’t . . . tie yourself forever to someone like me -”
“Beej, don’t -”
He laid two long fingers over her mouth. “To someone like me at this point in your life, when you don’t know what, or who, there is in your future. This is way too early for you, babes. You could have anything, and anyone, and I won’t let you sacrifice yourself -”
“Sacrifice!” She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned toward him. “This is not a sacrifice! If you want to talk about sacrifice, then let’s talk about all of your time and energy and thought being spent on me for the last five years. If you want to talk about sacrifice, let’s consider the sacrifice I would be making if I let you go! Sacrifice! You’re talking about sacrificing us both, Beej!” She paused and took a breath before linking her hands around his neck. “You don’t want me to sacrifice myself, but that’s what you’re forcing me to do. To sacrifice my heart, my love for you, and for what . . . your conscience? Your honor? Your finer feelings?”
He smiled weakly at that. “You really think I have any?”
“None that you’d admit to, but yes.” She took a breath and made a determined attempt to get through to him, speaking slowly and seriously. “BJ, something brought us together; maybe it was fate, maybe it was chance, I don’t know. But I realized years ago that we belong together and I will not let anything separate us. Ever. Not even you. We belong together and you are the only one I will ever love.” With that, she kissed him.
Delia sighed. Charles was dazed.
Beetlejuice returned her kiss, then put his arms around her, his head next to hers, his eyes closed. Finally, he turned his face toward her and she felt his breath on her ear as he asked, hesitantly, “Am I really your . . . what you said?”
Lydia thought back and realized what he was asking about. She answered quietly, “Of course you’re my one true love.”
He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter and held her closer before whispering, “You . . . you’re . . . mine, too.” He held his breath for a long moment, then, almost inaudibly, sighed, “Yes.”
She wrinkled her brow. “Yes?”
“Yes, I will.” He was stone-still now, and his voice so hushed, a mere breath of sound only she could hear. “My dearest one. My only one.” Then he shuddered and blushed violently, upset and embarrassed to the core by what he’d finally told her.
Lydia kissed his cheek and loved him with all her heart and her embrace and they stood in each other’s arms for a small eternity.
Conceding defeat, Charles sighed and sat down on Lydia’s vanity bench. “I don’t even know what’s going on,” he said sadly. “And no one even knows I’m here.”
Delia smiled affectionately at him and came over to pat him on the head. “Dear Charles,” she told him, “I know you’re here. But I think what just happened is that Lydia got engaged to Mr. Beetleman.”
Her husband looked at her in disbelief.
She nudged him to move over and allow her to sit beside him. “Maybe it’s not what we had in mind for her, but they certainly do seem to be right for each other. And they are adorable together. I’m getting you some pajamas like that.”
Epilogue:
Lydia had gotten dressed, and Beetlejuice had pretended to go home to change. Then they all met again in the kitchen to “talk things over”. Delia offered to make breakfast, but Charles was no longer hungry and BJ had heard enough about Delia’s cooking to claim he’d grabbed something quick at his place. (His place had been the Deetz garage, and he had grabbed a handful of beetles and a few pill bugs.)
They had all had some coffee and Delia had begun nattering about planning the church decorations and the flower arrangements and who should be bridesmaids and the calligraphy on the invitations and the height of the wedding cake and much, much more. Lydia let her talk and quietly planned things in her own mind.
“I’ve always dreamed of completely designing a wedding! This is going to be the artistic event of the social calendar!” Delia was euphoric. “I already have such wonderful ideas for your color theme, Lydia. Naturally, I’ll let you collaborate on your gown. I’m thinking a pale cream or ivory with tiny rosebuds along a sweetheart neckline -”
Behind her, Beetlejuice caught the eye of his betrothed and stuck a finger down his throat and gagged.
“Before we talk about my wedding dress,” Lydia finally interrupted, “I just want to repeat that I’m going to apply for that set of design courses next week.” She got up from the table and poured herself more coffee. “I’ll pay the fee myself. I should be able to afford it if I save up carefully until then.”
“Oh, but it’s so much less than we would spend on a single year of an Ivy League college! Why, it’s a mere pittance!” Delia looked around for her husband to verify that they would be happy to pay for Lydia’s final schooling, but Charles was conspicuously quiet and withdrawn.
Delia then set aside her wedding notes to look at BJ seriously. “It’s not too soon to decide where to go on your honeymoon, you know. I’ve been thinking perhaps Tahiti or the south of France. Or Venice! That’s a lovely, romantic city! Have the two of you made a short list of possibilities? You should make sure there are some activities available for when you’re not . . . you know, spending time alone with each other.” She positively twinkled at them.
Lydia walked to the fridge, opened it, and looked inside, signifying that it was up to Beetlejuice to deal with his prospective mother-in-law for a while.
Beetlejuice was still disturbed and ill-at-ease from his emotional trauma earlier, but he tried his best. “Um, actually, Mrs. Deetz, we haven’t thought about it at all. I wasn’t figuring on even asking her for maybe a couple of years yet. We, uh . . . haven’t got any sort of a list. For anything.” He pulled his collar away from his neck and gulped, terribly flustered to be talking about his honeymoon, but he struggled on for Lydia’s sake. “Maybe we could get back to you on that in a couple of weeks?”
“You’ll find it’s always a good idea to make a plan and then stick to it. And the best places will be booked before the end of the year.” Delia pulled a thick bundle of pamphlets from one of the kitchen drawers and handed them to him. “Here are several interesting choices – cruises, resorts, hiking tours, ski vacations. You two go through them and narrow down the list to your top twenty favorites and we’ll all discuss them over dinner tomorrow night.”
Beetlejuice now wore a look of desperation on his face and Lydia took pity on him. He wasn’t used to Delia; she, unfortunately, was.
“Have you thought about the caterer, Mother? And you know we haven’t set a hard and fast date yet. How much notice will the guests need?”
“Excellent points, Lydia! I know just who we’ll get to cater the whole thing, from the rehearsal dinner straight through to refreshments after the photo sessions, and the table linens will have to match the bridesmaids’ dresses and -” At that point, she lost her entire audience but never realized it and never even slowed down.
Lydia sent a smiling shrug to her affianced husband and went back to mentally designing her own gown and making her own plans.
Beetlejuice and Charles Deetz each wore the same expression now – stupefied horror. BJ twitched suddenly then turned his back on Delia and her menu plans and stared out of the kitchen window.
Charles stood up from the table and went to stand beside Beetlejuice. He also stared out of the window. “Beetleman,” he said tiredly. “Will you really make my pumpkin happy?”
Beetlejuice looked over his shoulder at Lydia and then at the man beside him. “I’ll tell you, Chuck, that calls for a serious answer and I don’t do a lot of those. Fact is, I’ve gone way over my limit for this year just in the last hour.” He heard Lydia sigh over a guest list that Delia had presented to her. “But that’s the whole reason I exist, to try to make her happy. And call me BJ, okay?” Hands in pockets, he rocked back and forth a little on the heels of his beetle boots. “You knooow, we could just let Deels make all these arrangements and enjoy herself and be busy for a few months. Then, after graduation, Lyds and I can elope.” He glanced again at Lydia’s father, who was still looking weary and unhappy. “We’d take you along, if you want. Lyds would want you there for the ceremony.”
“I might just take you up on that,” said Charles.