by Debby Mayne
She obviously won’t let up. I shouldn’t be surprised. But still, I’m holding onto the fact that Sally and Sara’s living arrangements are no one’s business but their own. “I’m not sure.” It looks like, no matter what I say, we’ll keep going back to what Mama called about. “She misses Sara quite a bit, even when I’m here.”
“I can imagine. Those twins have always been attached at the hip. I can’t imagine either of them without the other.”
She continues on and on about how they’ve always been together, so much so that even the family can’t tell them apart. I half listen and half try to think of something to end this conversation.
“It’ll take time, but everything will work out.”
Mama sighs. “Yeah, and maybe this will be a good thing for Sally. She might get out more and find her own guy.”
“It’s way more important that she find herself first.” I hear the annoyance in my own voice, but I can’t help it.
“Oh, sweetie, I know. And I’m sure you’ll find someone, too . . . eventually.”
All it takes for a prideful man to fly into a fit of rage is his wife asking him to go get his hearing checked. I’m fully aware of what I’m getting myself into when I do it, so I brace myself. The timing has to be perfect, so I wait until evening when all the kids are in their rooms.
“Foster, when was the last time you had a physical?” He doesn’t respond, so I ask again in a louder voice.
He makes a face. “You don’t have to yell.”
“You didn’t answer me the first time I asked.”
“You only asked once.” His chin juts out enough to remind me that I’m dealing with more than hearing issues. “Why do you want to know?”
I shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but I’ve never been good at hiding my feelings. “It’s just that we’re not getting any younger, so we should probably get checkups more often.”
“When did you have your last one?”
I think for a few seconds. “I think it’s been a couple years. Why don’t we go together?”
He flaps his hand from the wrist. “Nah, you can go without me. I’m healthy as a horse.”
A deaf horse. “Maybe so, but wouldn’t you feel better if you knew for sure?”
“Look, Missy, I know how I feel, and I feel just fine. Why would I want to go to a doctor who pokes until something hurts and then gives me a pill for it? Nope. I’ll pass, but if you want to go, then have at it.”
“I thought it would be nice if we—”
“Nope. I’m not doing it.” He lowers the footrest on his recliner, stands, and stretches. “I’m going to bed now. I’m plum tuckered out from all this nagging.” He leaves me sitting in my chair, staring after him.
I want to pick up something and throw it at him, then toss back a shot of the strongest thing I have hidden in the back of the pantry, but that’s the old me. The new me has been through counseling, so I know there are other ways to cope. I pick up the phone and call my cousin Shay.
“What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?” I ask.
“I was planning to pick out paint for my new living room, but if you have a better idea, I might change my mind.”
I smile. Shay has always been one of those family members I’m proud to be kin to. She has her act together, and nothing rattles her. And she never turns her back on a family member, which is precisely why I called her. “Want to meet for salads at the Lettuce Leaf?”
“Sure, that’ll be good.”
After we hang up, I plop back down in my chair. Just knowing that I’ll soon be able to talk to an adult who actually listens makes me feel better. The only problem with Shay is that she’s never been married, so she’s not able to relate to dumb husband antics. She has even been known to tell me I shouldn’t complain since I chose to marry Foster.
Now that I think about it, I wonder if I should have called someone else. Someone who gets the predicament I’m in. Someone like Puddin’. But the big problem with Puddin’ is that she’s married to my cousin, and she is too sweet to gripe about him to me, and I’m pretty sure she’s a whole lot happier than I am. So it’ll be all me, sounding like a terrible, disloyal wife.
And maybe that’s exactly what I am—a disloyal wife who doesn’t appreciate the good things about my husband. I rummage around the junk drawer and pull out a pad of paper and a pencil that looks like a beaver got hold of it from all the gnaw marks on the wood. I sit down at the kitchen table and jot numbers one through ten so I can list Foster’s good points.
First, he makes a decent living, so I’ve never had to worry about not having a roof over my head. That’s a big deal. The money I make at my job goes to paying off bills and enabling us to take vacations, even though we haven’t taken one in a while.
Second, he’s been a good daddy to our daughter Wendy. In fact, when Wendy’s school prom came up, she didn’t have a boyfriend, so he offered to go with her. A wild-eyed look came over her, and she didn’t waste any time finding another boy to crush on. Of course, it doesn’t take much searching when you look like my daughter. To top it off, she has mastered the smoky eye with makeup, so when she gives the guys one of her smoldering looks, there’s no hope of escaping.
Third, I know what it feels like to be madly in love with Foster. In fact, I want it back, which is why I’ve hung in there so long.
Coming up with ten things might be tough. Everything past number three seems lame, so I put down the pencil, get up, and start pacing until I feel my eyelids grow heavy and I know it’s time to go to bed.
When the alarm clock goes off the next morning, I glance over and see Foster still sleeping with a dreamy smile on his face. He obviously doesn’t hear the alarm.
I reach over and give him a gentle nudge. The instant I make contact with his shoulder, he scowls.
“What’d you go and do that for?” He props up on one elbow for a second, then flops back on the bed after I get up.
“It’s time to get up.” I pick up the clock from his nightstand and point to the face. “It’s six thirty.”
“Give me ten more minutes.”
We don’t have the kind of clock with a snooze button. Foster insists that our old, windup clock is perfectly fine. And it is, if you can hear it. He obviously can’t.
I pull on my bathrobe and go to the kitchen to start the coffee. When he doesn’t join me ten minutes later, I go back into our bedroom and nudge him again. He groans and gets up without even looking at me.
Foster has his routine down pat once he gets up in the morning, so I know that he’ll shower and shave before coming for his coffee. While he pours it and fixes it the way he likes it—one spoon of sugar and two spoons of the powdered, vanilla-flavored coffee creamer he insists I buy—I’ll get his Cheerios ready. He’ll sit at the table and ask me if I have any bananas, and within a couple of seconds, I’ll hand one to him. I’ve tried breaking the routine by having his banana on the table or fixing his coffee for him, but it totally throws off his day. In fact, he has even blamed me for ruining his morning by changing things up.
After Foster leaves for work, I get ready for my lunch with Shay. I remember the fact that she’s always very punctual, so I do everything in my power to be there on time. However, my phone rings off the hook, and I smear my mascara when I put it on my bottom eyelashes, so I’m five minutes late.
“Sorry I’m late, but—”
She holds up both hands. “Don’t worry about it. Life happens. So how’s everything going?”
“There’s so much, I don’t know where to start.”
Shay tilts her head and smiles. “Why don’t you start at the beginning? That’s always a good place.”
I begin with my chili cook-off win. “I was so excited to take home the big prize . . . until I looked around and saw that I didn’t have anyone there to support me.”
Her lips twist. “Welcome to my world.”
“I’m sorry, Shay. I didn’t mean—”
“I know. So tell me what
happened next.” She leans forward and gives me an encouraging look.
I can’t even begin to express my appreciation for Shay. She is such a good listener, and I never feel like she’s judging me. “We really should get together more often,” I say.
She nods. “I’d like that. So what happened after you won the chili competition?”
I tell her about the way Foster didn’t seem to care and how he seemed so wrapped up in his fishing trip. “I was really getting miffed at him for being so thoughtless, until I realized something I should have seen a long time ago.” I pause to take a breath.
“And what should you have seen?”
“He can’t hear.”
“Can’t hear or won’t listen?”
I hold my hands out to my sides. “He can’t hear half of what I say. My husband is almost deaf.”
“I’ve heard a lot of wives say that about their husbands, but it’s usually selective hearing.”
“No, it’s not like that with Foster. He really and truly can’t hear. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with him for quite a while, and then we went to Stephen’s.”
Shay’s eyebrows shoot up. “Y’all went to Stephen’s? Wow!”
“I know, right? Anyway, after it seemed like he was ignoring people there, I finally realized he simply can’t hear.”
“As in, you really do think he’s deaf?”
I nod. “I’ve been bubblin’ and fumin’ inside for years, thinking he’s been ignoring me and thinking about what he’s about to say next, but all this time—”
“Most people do that, you know.” Shay rubs her finger along the edge of the fork as she ponders the situation. “But if he’s really hard of hearing, he needs to see someone. Hearing aids keep getting better all the time.”
“That’s the problem. He doesn’t want to see someone. He says he feels just fine.”
“I’m sure he does.” Shay shakes her head. “But how do you feel?”
“That’s just it. I’m angry all the time because I’m the only one who’s listening.”
“Being married isn’t easy, is it?” She grimaces and gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry. I know those are words a single woman should never say to one who’s married.”
“But it’s true.” I watch Shay’s expression become more pensive and worry that I’m scaring her away from ever getting married. “Marriage isn’t all bad, though.”
She makes a funny face. “Nothing is all bad.”
Okay, time to change the subject before I have her committing herself to forever-after singledom. “So are you going to the reunion?”
“Yeah, I’m going.” She leans back and sighs. “I can’t figure out why we keep having so many. Seems like one a year would be plenty.”
“I reckon the older folks are starting to think about their mortality, and they’re worried they won’t live until next year.”
Shay laughs. “But they always do.”
When I hear about other folks’ marital problems, it should make me happy I’m single. But it doesn’t. In fact, it generally does the opposite. I’m just as miserable as they are, and I have no one but myself to blame.
I’ve had coffee with Elliot a couple of times, and each time, he brings up his ex more than I’m comfortable with. I understand that she’s still fresh in his mind, but he is adamant about the fact that he’s completely over her.
Maybe I’m being too cautious, but I don’t want to date him until I’m sure he’s ready to focus on our relationship without constantly being reminded of anything, good or bad, from his marriage. Deep down, I think that time will come.
Something I really like about him is the fact that he’s not so money focused that it rules his life. He gave up a six-figure income to come back to Pinewood to teach high school business and help coach the football team. That says a lot about his character.
While it breaks my heart that he has to spend so much of his paycheck paying off the bills from his marriage and divorce, it shows his commitment to doing the right thing. But it also reminds me that his ex will be on his mind for a while, as he plows through the mountain of bills.
Life isn’t bad, but it’s not exactly how I would have ordered it. The twins have come to some realizations that mirror mine, and I’m amazed by how quickly they’ve learned about all the kinks in the road of life. Sometimes we all feel sorry for ourselves, even when we know we should be counting our many blessings.
Actually, I’m not always miserable, and I suspect the twins aren’t either. But I do have a lot of days when I’m down. Fortunately, I’ll be busy for the next couple of months getting my new condo just like I want it, so I won’t have time to think about the fact that Elliot isn’t ready to be in a relationship yet. If I’d been younger when he returned, I might have given in to the temptation to get involved with him anyway. But years of experience and watching other people have made me more cautious. Maybe too cautious.
I look around at the bare walls of my condo and try to get a feel for what I should do. Fortunately, everything is in decent shape—even the carpet and linoleum that I plan to eventually rip out. I like hardwood floors in the living room and tile in the kitchen and bathrooms. I’ve seen enough HGTV home-makeover shows with the twins to know what I want, and it’s not cheap.
The kitchen is rather tired looking, but unlike the twins, I don’t mind the bisque appliances as long as they work. I’ll save my money and replace them in a year or so, after I decide whether to go for the super-deluxe fridge with the French-door top, bottom freezer, and pullout snack drawer or the more traditional side-by-side model, which is really all I need.
I despise the fluorescent lighting that’s still in the bathrooms, and there aren’t enough lights in the kitchen, so I make a note to call my electrician to come out and add more canned fixtures and pendant lights in both rooms. While he’s there, I’ll have more outlets put on the back porch, since I’ll be doing quite a bit of entertaining out there. I’m not that great at grilling, but since my place comes with a built-in grill, I’ll get better.
I’ve been staring at walls, measuring, and planning for almost an hour when my phone rings. It’s Mama.
“What have you decided to bring to the reunion besides the eggs?”
“Nothing yet.”
“Well . . .” Mama’s voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve heard that there’ll be at least three lasagnas and a couple of creamy chicken casseroles with peas.”
“Sounds good.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“No,” I reply. “I’m serious. I like lasagna and chicken casseroles.”
“I’m sure we’ll have a lot of elaborately decorated cakes, too. You’d think some of the people in our family have nothing better to do with their time than spend hours making sure their fondant rosettes are perfect.”
“Okay.” A smile tweaks my lips, but I try not to let her know I’m amused. “What are you bringing?”
“One of the lasagnas. You know I make the best.”
“What else?” I ask. Mama does make the best lasagna, but she also likes to be the one who brings the most dishes to the reunions. “Any dessert?”
“Maybe some ’nana puddin’.”
“Sounds good. What else?” I know that once Mama’s pump gets primed, there’s no stopping her.
“At least one salad, probably with broccoli and nuts. And maybe a vegetable dish or two.”
“Then I don’t have to bring anything since you’ll have it all covered.”
“Shay! You’re a grown woman. You have to bring something.”
“I was just pulling your leg, Mama. In addition to the deviled eggs, I’ll bring a three-bean salad, and maybe some of those spoon rolls like I used to make when I lived at home.” I pause. “If I have time, I might even make some meatballs.”
“I don’t know, Shay. All of that is pretty basic, and you know how the women in our family can be.”
Yes, I do know, but it doesn’t matter whether they thi
nk my contributions are basic or elaborate. One of the main reasons I’m bringing so much stuff to the reunion is to keep Mama from being ashamed of her daughter’s manners.
“Hey, Shay!”
I turn around and see Sally grinning at me. And right behind her is Sara with a sullen, very thin, somewhat shaggy guy. “Mama, I gotta run. My decorators are here.”
“Tell Sally and Sara I said hi.”
I press the Off button on my phone and drop it into my pocket. “Well, what do y’all think?”
Sally spins around with her arms open wide. “I think this is wonderful, but you sure do have a lot of work to do.”
“That’s not very nice,” Sara says as she steps forward. She crinkles her nose. “You’re not keeping those hideous appliances, are you?”
I go over my plans with them, even though it’s really none of their business and probably nothing they’re interested in hearing. “I need to get the Jacuzzi professionally cleaned, and then I’ll have y’all over to hang out on my patio.”
“We’ll bring the steaks.”
I glance at the boy who just spoke as he remains standing in the girls’ shadows. “You must be Justin.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.
“Well, congratulations and welcome to the family.”
His deer-in-headlights look endears him to me. I want to give him a hug and let him know everything will be all right, but I’m not totally sure that’s accurate. With the family reunion coming up soon, there’s no telling what he’s in for. I’ve seen the way the older women in my family grill newlyweds, and it’s not pretty. And I’m sure he’ll get an extra dose of it since they eloped. If there’s one thing the women in my family like more than reunions, it’s weddings, with funerals being not too far behind.
Sara frowns as she nudges her new husband. “Say something, Justin.”
He gives her a confused look, glances at me, and shifts his feet. “What do you want me to say?”
She rolls her eyes and lets out a soft groan. “Never mind.” I smile at her, but she doesn’t meet my gaze.
It’s not a good sign when newlyweds act this way. I decide to try to fix things between them. “There really isn’t much he can say. I’m sure it’s still pretty overwhelming.”