“If it isn’t legal,” Loretta murmured, “it’s worthless, it doesn’t mean anything.”
The Greek twitched his lips and looked up at the ceiling. Then he glared at Loretta and said loudly, “This is genuine marriage license. I tell you it goes into the files.”
Loretta got up from the chair and walked to the small table where the Greek had placed the pen and the ink. She picked up the pen, dipped it in the ink bottle, and then for a long moment she stared at Kerrigan. His head was lowered and he was gazing at the carpet. Loretta took a deep breath and signed her name to the license and then she handed the pen to Kerrigan.
He moved slowly toward the table. The pen vibrated in his trembling hand. He knew she was watching him and he tried to keep his hand from trembling. The trembling became worse and he couldn’t move the pen toward the paper.
He heard her saying, “What are you waiting for?”
There was no way to answer that.
“Just sign your name,” she said. “That’s all you have to do. Put your name on the dotted line.”
He stood there gaping at the paper that had her name written on it, with the dotted line waiting for his name.
Then he heard the Greek saying, “Maybe this man cannot write. Many men they come here and they cannot write their name.”
“I can write,” Kerrigan mumbled. As he spoke, he could feel the perspiration dripping from his forehead.