Husbands and Other Sharp Objects

by Marilyn Simon Rothstein

  I took the basket from her and removed the red cellophane.

  I bit into a red Honeycrisp apple. I told her to come into my office so Dana could finish talking to Cheyenne. Once inside, she moved some cups on my desk to the side to make room for the basket. They all had coffee stains inside.

  “How long were those mugs sitting there?” she asked.

  “See that one?” I pointed to one with lipstick on the rim. “Marilyn Monroe.”

  “Did you ever hear of Kid Met?”

  “Of course, the children’s museum in Chicago.”

  “They’re mounting a show of children’s illustrations next spring. They asked me for one!”

  She deserved some happiness. I thought about what she had been through in the past year alone. She was a human soap opera.

  “There’s more. Ask who else is in the show.”

  “Who else is in the show?”

  “Dr. Seuss. Of course, he has an entire gallery, and I have one illustration.”

  “Oh my, you’re in a show with the Cat in the Hat.” I recited a few lines from the book.

  “Yes, the Cat in the Hat and Walter the Walrus. Ask who else,” she said.

  “Who else?”

  “Elephant and Piggie—you know, in the books by Mo Willems. Of course, he will have a room full of his work.”

  “So what? You have an illustration. You’re insanely famous!”

  “It’s months away, but promise you will go with me to Chicago.”

  “I’m there. I’m so there. Your dad would have been proud,” I said.

  She glanced at the ceiling. “He’s up there. He knows.”

  “For sure,” I said. “He definitely knows.”

  After work, I went to Carnivore’s Hell for therapy. There was a banner in the window: “We are happy to deliver orders over $100.” I thought, A hundred-dollar order from an “organic” market? What was that? One box of frozen riced cauliflower, a Hass avocado, and a coconut water?

  My phone rang. It was Amanda. She was packing up her apartment in Seattle for her move to Connecticut. She had a wedding question.

  I didn’t mind being interrupted at home or even at work, but when the wedding began cutting into my restorative grocery time, I was troubled. I had just learned how to shop for one person, and it took a lot of concentration. And it was annoying because it was clear to me that the smaller the package, the more the product cost.

  “Mom, what’s with Uncle Max?” Amanda said as I turned into the frozen foods aisle.

  “Where do I begin?”

  “He still hasn’t returned the RSVP card.”

  “You knew that would happen.”

  “But I’m trying to get a count.”

  “Did you invite him with a date?”

  “Yes. After speaking to you, I decided to invite most single people with a plus one.”

  Plus one bimbo, I thought, knowing my brother’s choice of women.

  “So call him,” I said.

  “I don’t want to call him. You have to call him.”

  “We went through this once already. It’s your wedding.”

  “He’s your relative.”

  “What’s that, a new rule? If someone doesn’t return an RSVP card, the closest relative has to suffer?”

  “Mom, you’re the one who said we had to invite him because of Grandma.”

  “So she should call him,” I said.

  I could hear my mother from heaven: “He’s your brother. Be the bigger one.”

  My entire life I had heard that line from my mother: “So he trashed your favorite doll, pushed you down the stairs. He’s your brother. Be the bigger one.” Then she would spout her version of an eye for an eye: “Sometimes you have to look away.” I had looked so far away I needed binoculars.

  “Uncle Max is the least of my problems, though. There’s a lot on my mind. I’m in a tricky situation with meat.”

  “What about meat?”

  “Jake’s mom insists on meat for a main dish, not just seafood. She says that unless there is a meat selection, it’s not a proper celebration. She keeps e-mailing pictures of roast beef, lamb chops, and New York strip.”

  “So have a choice for the main dish.”

  “First of all, a lot of my friends are vegetarians. Plus, the wedding is in Florida, where the fish is fresh and delicious. I’m standing firm,” she said.

  “Make Mug feel better. Tell her you denied your father his pigs in a blanket.”

  “Wow. You’re worried about Dad. I like that.”

  “He’s paying for the wedding. The man is entitled to one pig in a blanket.”

  Chapter 22

  When I rang to tell him I had progress to report, Jon put the issue of my marital status on the back burner. I asked him to call a truce and come over to my house. He agreed.

  I prepared chopped salad, cheese manicotti, and fresh asparagus in Béarnaise sauce. I had a large fruit tart, courtesy of Sweet Heaven Bakery, ready for dessert.

  When I opened the door, he grinned sheepishly and handed me a bottle of wine. I grabbed his hand and pulled him through the door.

  Jon uncorked the wine. We went into my new living room and relaxed on the futon I had bought online. I thought I could use the futon in the living room until I found my dream couch, and then I would move it into one of the bedrooms. We put our wineglasses on the temporary plastic cocktail table I had purchased the same day. The white walls were bare because I was waiting to paint—and waiting for Jon to cool down completely before I asked him about warm colors.

  “Jon, I want to tell you something.”

  He wrinkled his brow.

  “I called a divorce lawyer.”

  “What did you call her?”

  “No, really. I called Grace Greene again. She is the one I told you I had contacted when everything first happened. I thought she was too tough, that I would wind up at war with Harvey, which I do not want to be. After all, I have to consider the kids. I don’t want to be invited to one birthday party while he gets invited to the next.”

  “I can see that,” Jon said.

  “But I called my accountant. And even he recommended her. It seems that because Harvey has such a large business and so many accounts, I need someone who has a lot of experience. I guess it’s easier anyway since I already met with her. Believe me, that was no fun.”

  “Okay,” he said. “When are you planning to file?”

  “I meet with her after the wedding,” I said.

  He laughed. “Of course, after the wedding. It seems we have BW and AW. Before the wedding, after the wedding.”

  Yes, I thought, you are right.

  “Well, I have news myself.” He seemed happy.

  My eyes widened as I wondered what it could be.

  “I have a very tempting offer.”

  “From who?”

  “From Price College.”

  I was excited for him. It’s the best when something really good happens to someone you care about. Just the best. “You’ve been promoted to head of your department?”

  “Better.”

  “Really?”

  “They’re creating a new campus, and Dean Prybutok wants me to set up a department of English. Guess where?”

  I shrugged because I had no idea.

  “In Japan.”

  “What?”

  “Japan,” he repeated.

  I had no clue why he thought I would be happy about a job in Japan. If he was moving to Japan, he might as well move to, I don’t know, Japan.

  “I would be there for a little less than a year,” he said.

  “What year?”

  “Starting in late December.”

  “Jon, Japan is literally on the other side of the world.”

  “You’re not happy for me. I don’t believe it,” he said.

  “I am happy for you. I’m not happy for me.”

  “Then come to Japan.”

  “It takes, like, days to fly there.”

  “Part of
the deal is two round-trip tickets.”

  “So you would come home once?” I said as my voice went soprano.

  I’d been trying to keep our relationship light, but not this light. Not light enough for him to take off for a year without me. Besides, when I had run into Jerry in Carnivore’s Hell, I had realized I had no interest in seeing anyone but Jon.

  “No. I thought you could use one of the tickets.”

  “So you want me to visit once?” Now that’s what I call not going steady.

  “I want you to come with me.” A warm smile sat on his face, emphasizing the lines around his chin.

  “To the other side of the world . . . for a year?” Surely he had lost his mind. But it was nice he had lost it, because he was inviting me to live with him. No matter how ridiculous the concept was.

  “Wow, Marcy. I didn’t think you would say yes immediately, but I never thought you would think the idea was ridiculous.” To create a break in the conversation, he stood and faced me as I sat on the futon.

  All I could think was that he would meet a sex kitten in a kimono. He would reside in a high-rise that was full of geishas. The geishas would treat him like a samurai warrior. In no time, he would forget about me.

  “Come with me.”

  I was nothing short of dazzled.

  “Come with me,” he repeated.

  “Where in Japan?”

  “Tokyo.”

  Marcy Takes Tokyo, I thought. I had wanted to change. Committing to Jon. Moving to the other side of the world. Now that was breaking out. But then I heard the old Marcy, the real Marcy, the Marcy I was born as, speak, and I wondered why it was so difficult to change.

  “I can’t. I have a wedding to plan, a wedding to go to. And what about my job? I was just promoted. I think I can go national. The Guild for Good could unite artists throughout the country. And what about the little things? I have to go to Chicago in the spring with Candy to see her show. I promised.”

  Suddenly, as I said all of this, I realized that I had, in fact, made a life for myself. I had struggled off the ground on shaky legs and stood up and could reach for anything. I thought back to when I had forfeited a career for Harvey. But that wasn’t just for Harvey. That was for my children. And the truth was, I wouldn’t take a moment of the time I had spent with them back.

  “And, and, and,” he said in disappointment.

  I had been so busy congratulating myself, I hadn’t thought about what a wonderful offer he had made and how much I had hurt him by saying a flat-out no. He sat back down on the futon. His disappointment filled the empty living room.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you think I could drop everything in my life? I did that for Harvey, and look at the way things wound up.”

  “I’m not Harvey. And if I were, I would strangle you with your own brassiere right now.”

  “Kiss and make up,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Not on your life. I was so excited to invite you. I thought you would be thrilled. I should have known. First is your family and the wedding, the damn wedding.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look, Jon, it would have been better if my daughter wasn’t getting married in the middle of my divorce. But she is. And she’s happy. And I am not doing anything to stand in the way of it.”

  “If only it was that simple.”

  “How do you know what ‘it’ is anyway? I can’t just pack up and leave. There are so many things I want to do.”

  “You can leave the day after the wedding and meet me there. I could leave then as well, but as I recall, I am not invited. Unless, of course, that has all changed.”

  I shook my head.

  He rubbed his chin the way people do when thinking. “Marcy, I am not in any way suggesting you should miss one minute of Amanda’s wedding.”

  “It won’t work,” I said. “What about my job?”

  “Oh, Marcy, you’ll take a leave of absence. Call the boss. Call Christopher Kingston, and ask him if he knows someone who can fill in for you. He loves you. He knows me. He will make this work. Or just come for three months. People take leave for three months all the time.”

  My head was reeling. “You sound just like Harvey. Put your petty career on ice and move to Connecticut, where you can be subservient for a few decades. Then, when it’s time for you to live a life, you will be underqualified for everything.”

  “Harvey, Harvey, Harvey,” he said.

  “That’s what his parrot used to say.”

  “What parrot?”

  “Harvey had a parrot. And all it could say was his name.”

  “If I had a parrot, it would say your name.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “So come to Japan.”

  “It’s impossible.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I don’t know what I am saying. I am saying I can’t go live in Japan.”

  “No. What are you saying about us?” he pressed on.

  I shrugged, defeated.

  “First, you don’t want me to meet your kids. Then I am not invited to the blessed wedding from hell.”

  “Don’t call it that,” I stammered.

  “Marcy, you are just not ready for a relationship with me. I am done paddling this canoe alone.”

  I was thunderstruck. How could he say that? “Are you nuts? Paddling? You’re not paddling.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” He stood up and walked across the room to the fireplace. He looked downright self-righteous. I got up and went over to him.

  “For months, you accused me of locking you out, of pushing you away, of putting my kids first. What did you say? ‘I want to meet your kids. I want to be part of your family.’ Or some such nonsense. Then, voilà! You do this. You, without a word about it to me, take a job on the complete other side of the world. Not for a month, not for a semester, but for almost an entire year. And, as though that isn’t enough to throw our relationship into water so deep there is no getting back to shore, you just assume that I will go along, because what the hell else have I got to do?”

  His face became sullen, pale. He scratched his neck, like he had poison ivy.

  I stepped back. “Jon, I understand this is an amazing opportunity, but how could you accept this position without saying a word to me about it? How could you assume that I had so little going on that I would just pick up and be thrilled about an endless supply of Kobe beef?”

  He stood still.

  “Kobe beef is delicious,” he said.

  “Joking is my way out. Not yours.”

  He looked out the window for a moment. He turned back to me. “Marcy, I should have never made this decision without talking to you.”

  He was agreeing with me?

  “You’re right,” he continued. “I was wrong.”

  Had I just heard a man say he was wrong?

  “I should have talked to you when the dean made the offer.”

  “Yes, you should have.”

  “I should have told the dean, ‘I have to discuss this with Marcy.’ He would have said, ‘Who’s Marcy?’”

  I laughed.

  “And I would have said, ‘The woman I love.’”

  Chapter 23

  It was late on a clear and cold Sunday afternoon in November. I took a walk on the road near my new house. Mostly, I thought about Jon. I wanted things to work out with him. But I knew from the breakup of my marriage that there was no way to predict or govern what another person would do. I was heartsick that Jon was leaving for Japan, but we would visit each other, and the older I got, the quicker time went by. Soon a year would feel like half an hour. I could rationalize anything.

  When I returned from my walk, I saw a vision, my dream come true. All three of my children were on my porch, chatting in the white slat chairs, rocking back and forth.

  I stood on the road for a moment and watched. I glowed inside and out.

  “What a wonderful surprise,” I shout
ed, running up to hug each one of them.

  “You see, you don’t know everything that’s going on,” Elisabeth said. She was wearing a new toggle coat. I liked it. I would’ve liked her in a burlap sack at that moment.

  “All three of you at once. Am I dying, and I don’t know it?” I said. “Is this farewell, Mom?”

  “We’re allowed to drop by without an occasion,” Ben put in.

  “I love your porch,” Amanda said. “Why didn’t we ever build a porch at our house?”

  I was about to give a one-word answer, but instead there was a chorus: “Dad.”

  “It’s amazing he didn’t want a porch,” Ben said, “considering how much he likes to sit.”

  “Too easy a shot,” Amanda said.

  “He moved back into the house last week,” Elisabeth said, looking at my face for a reaction. I tried my hardest to act as though she had just mentioned that snow was usually white and tended to fall from the sky. I doubt I was successful.

  “He hired a guy to help him find the washing machine,” Ben said, trying to lighten things up, concerned about my reaction to the news. And it was news. Harvey hadn’t said a word to me about it.

  I held steady. I had my new house, and my three children were on the porch. I was happy.

  We went inside. The paintings Jon had brought over weren’t hung yet; they were leaning against a wall in the hall. I hoped that someone would say how impressive Jon’s work was or just that it was impressive that someone had done so much work. Any crumb would do.

  In the kitchen, Amanda turned the conversation to the wedding. “Dad asked me to invite Hungry Hannah.” Hannah had worked at Bountiful since women wrapped their bosoms in rags.

  “That’s nice,” I said, taking pretzels out of the cabinet and pouring them into a bowl.

  “She fitted me for my first bra. Remember, Mom?”

  “No mother ever forgets taking a daughter to buy her first bra.”

  I placed the snack on the kitchen table.

  “Okay,” Amanda said, “tell me when you took me.”

  I thought for a moment. I couldn’t remember. Uh-oh.

  “That’s why it’s best to be born first,” Elisabeth said. “No mother ever remembers anything about the one born second.”