by Cronk, LN
She laughed and gave me a long kiss.
“Thank you,” she said. “What else did you get me?”
“What else?”
“You went to the store the other day,” she reminded me. “To get me a Valentine’s present. You didn’t get this from the store.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“Oh,” I said, reaching over to the nightstand again. “I guess that must be what this is.”
I could tell she wasn’t sure if I was playing with her or not.
“What is it?” she asked as she took the package from me.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Open it and find out.”
She opened it and glanced at me uncertainly, obviously worried that letting me drive the other day had not been a good idea.
“What is it?” I asked her innocently.
“It’s . . . it’s Play-doh.”
“Play-doh?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you like it?” I asked her.
“Sure . . .” she said, slowly nodding.
“Why did I get you Play-doh?” I asked, trying not to smile.
“Because,” she answered carefully. “Everybody likes Play-doh.”
“Everybody likes Play-doh?” I burst out laughing and she looked at me, relieved.
“So,” she smiled, “you’re aware that this is perhaps not the most romantic gift you’ve ever gotten me?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “I’m completely aware, but it’s nice to see how sweet you’re planning on being to me when I’m not.”
She smiled back at me.
“But you’re wrong about one thing,” I told her. “This happens to be a very romantic gift.”
“It is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“Because,” I said, brushing her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. “When we were in preschool together we used to hide under the stairs together and taste Play-doh.”
“We did?”
“Uh-huh. You don’t remember doing that?”
“No,” she said. “I mean, I believe you, but I don’t remember it.”
“Well, I do.”
“But why did you buy this for me?” she asked, still confused.
“Because no matter what happens,” I told her, “I’m never going to forget that.”
She looked at me and smiled.
“And I wanted to let you know,” I went on, “that I’m never going to forget you either.”
Dorito called later that day with more big plans. In addition to the fishing trip we were planning for the summer, he thought that all three of us should all go elk hunting in Montana in the fall. (This was another big idea that he and Tanner had often talked about over the years, only occasionally remembering to include me in their plans as an afterthought.)
Since this was another opportunity for Laci to go to Mexico and visit the orphanage (and since I really wanted to go elk hunting in Montana), I readily agreed.
“I’ll take care of everything!” he promised once I’d told him that I’d love to go.
“Don’t forget though,” I advised, “Tanner’s gonna want to do something where we hike in or ride four-wheelers . . . nothing with horses.”
“I know Dad,” Dorito said, sounding quite annoyed that I felt it necessary to remind him of something so obvious. “Don’t worry – I’ve got it handled.”
That night, we went out to dinner. We had just started eating our salads, when I heard someone say my name.
“David?”
I looked up.
It was my old high school girlfriend, Samantha.
“Sam!” I said, standing up and giving her a hug. “How are you doing?”
“I’m good,” she replied, then she looked at Laci and smiled. “Hi, Laci.”
“Hey, Sam,” Laci smiled back.
“Are you still living near Memphis?” I asked her.
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Mom just had a heart catheterization done so I flew up to spend the week with her.”
“Everything go okay?”
“Yeah, pretty good.”
“Lovely way to spend Valentine’s Day,” I said.
“Tell me about it.”
“How’s your dad?” I asked.
“He’s good,” she said, nodding toward an older gentleman who was seated alone at a table across the room. “We just came out to grab some dinner. How’s your dad doing?”
“Well,” I said, tipping my hand back and forth. “So-so . . . you know how it goes.”
“Yeah. It’s hard to watch them get old, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“You and Mark still both with the same company?”
She and her husband Mark were both computer engineers.
“Nu-unh,” she shook her head. “Mark and I got divorced last year.”
“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. I really was.
“Yeah . . . as soon as Zack went off to college . . .” she said, shaking her head. “I guess he was ready for something else.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Thanks,” she smiled. “It’s all right though. At least I found out while I’m young. I’ve still got my whole life ahead of me, right?”
“Absolutely,” I nodded.
“So how have you two been?” she asked, looking at Laci.
“Great,” Laci answered.
Sam looked back to me. “Everybody healthy and happy?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “We’ve got nothing to complain about.”
“She looks fantastic,” Laci said after Sam had gone back to her table.
“Does she?” I said. “I didn’t notice.”
“Liar.”
“What can I say, Laci? I’ve always had great taste in women.”
“Well,” Laci said. “Apparently she’s free . . . here’s your big chance!”
“Really?!” I asked, starting to get out of my chair. “You don’t mind? Thanks!”
“You go right ahead!”
“You think I won’t do it!”
She laughed.
“Ahhh,” I said, sitting back down. “I guess I’ll just stick with what I’ve got.”
“Gee, thanks,” she smirked.
“I am sorry to hear about them getting divorced, though,” I said seriously. “That’s too bad.”
“She seems to have a pretty good attitude about it,” Laci said.
“Well,” I smiled, “you know what they say. Attitude is everything.”
That night, lying in bed with Laci, I found myself thinking about my conversation with Sam.
“Laci?” I said in the darkness.
“What?”
“I want you to know something.”
“What?” She was lying like she always did, with her head nestled on my shoulder and her arm across my chest.
“I want you to know that I’ve always been faithful to you. I don’t want you to ever wonder about that one day.”
She actually started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching up to wipe her eye. “That was very sweet.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
“Well,” she said. “I’ve just never really worried about it, that’s all.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Well, you should, Laci! You should worry about that a lot!”
She laughed again.
“Is it THAT funny?” I asked her. “Are you so sure I never had an affair?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”
“Why?” I asked her. “You think no one else would want me?”
“No,” she said, patting her hand against my chest. “I’m sure many, many women have wanted you over the years.”
“That’s right!” I told her. “You have no idea how many women I’ve had to fight off since I’ve been married to you.”
&
nbsp; “Uh-huh,” she said, hugging me.
“I really could’ve had an affair, you know,” I said, hugging her back.
“With who?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Inez maybe? I could’ve found somebody.”
She laughed one more time.
“Don’t you want to know if I’ve been faithful?” she asked after we’d laid there quietly for a minute.
“Nope,” I said. “I know you have been.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I trust you,” I said, running my finger down the side of her face. “I trust you with my life.”
~ ~ ~
DURING THE NEXT two weeks we visited each of the girls who lived nearby and at the end of February we flew to California to see Grace. I was bored out of my skull while Grace and Laci talked about plans for the wedding, but Laci seemed really excited about it so I pretended to care whether or not the dinner menu included a vegan option or if the color of the ribbons in the bridesmaid’s hair complemented the groomsmen’s boutonnières.
After spending a week with Grace, we flew directly from California to Florida to spend a few – a very few – days with Laci’s dad.
Our relationship with Laci’s dad had gone downhill after Laci’s mom had died, due in no small part to his new wife. Within three months of the death of Laci’s mom, he had remarried and moved to Florida. Even Laci (who always tried very hard to find the good in every person she’d ever met) had a hard time finding anything good about her new stepmom, Linda.
Linda was, quite frankly, a narcissistic gossip who, whenever we visited, worried constantly that having “strangers” in the house was upsetting to her Yorkshire terrier (an annoying little animal that – on more than one occasion – I’d had the desire to drop kick). We usually got ourselves a hotel room, but just being around her for the shortest periods of time managed to leave me with the strongest desire to lie down in a dark, quiet room with a cool cloth on my eyes.
Fortunately, however, Linda was also a hypochondriac which meant that she frequently “wasn’t feeling well enough” to accompany Laci’s dad whenever he took us out to eat, offered to take us to the beach, or invited us to go golfing.
When we arrived on this particular visit, Linda was in a rampage because she claimed that a neighbor had installed blinds that were “against code” (in other words, she didn’t like the color). She spent most of our first day there on the phone with members of the Homeowners Association, dissecting the definition of “window treatment” with anyone who would listen. Finally the president of the Homeowners Association determined that “window treatment” only referred to drapes and curtains and that the offending blinds could stay. Linda got herself in such a huff about this that for the next two days, (when she wasn’t threatening to move) she sequestered herself and her stupid little dog in the bedroom, saying that the incident had been too upsetting for her to visit.
Darn.
Personally, I made a point of going for a walk when I noticed that the renegade neighbor was out front, pulling weeds from around her mailbox.
“Hello,” I said brightly as I walked by.
“Hi,” she smiled, looking up at me.
“Beautiful day,” I said.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed.
“Hey! Are those new blinds?” I asked, motioning to her house.
“Yes,” she said. “We just got them last week.”
“Oh,” I nodded. “I really like them. That’s a great color.”
~ ~ ~
DORITO CALLED THE week after we got home from Florida.
“I can’t go to Montana with you,” were the first words out of his mouth.
“What?!” I exclaimed. “Why not?!”
“Maria’s pregnant.”
“Again?” (This would be their fifth.)
“Yes,” he answered. “Again.”
“I don’t understand how this happened,” I said, exasperated.
“Well, you see, Dad,” Dorito began, “when a man and a woman love each other very much . . .”
“Very funny. What I meant was that I can’t believe she’s having another baby. She just had Erin like five months ago!”
“It was eight months ago, Dad.”
I sighed.
“So you can’t go hunting now just because she’s pregnant?”
“She’s due the same day we’re supposed to fly out!” Dorito exclaimed. “I can’t be gone then!”
“Well, what if we can change our reservations?”
“To when?” Dorito asked. “Even if we got a spot at the beginning of the season, what if she goes early again like she did with Catie?”
“What if we got a spot at the end of the season?” I suggested.
“I’m not going to go away for ten days and leave her here with four kids and a brand new baby!”
I sighed again.
“Why don’t we just cancel it and go next year?” I asked.
“No,” Dorito said, emphatically. “You and Tanner just need to go without me.”
It hung, unspoken in the air, that there was a good chance I wouldn’t be in any shape to go anywhere the following fall.
“Are you still going with us to Alaska?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think so. As long as everything goes good.”
“Well, do you think you and Maria could at least manage to give me a grandson this time?”
“No promises,” Dorito said, “but the sonogram’s in two months. I’ll let you know what we find out.”
My fifty-fifth birthday was two weeks later and we had a great celebration. Everyone except for Marco was able to come and after that we flew to Australia and spent ten days with him, practicing our Australian accents, and sampling Vegemite sandwiches and shrimp on the barbie.
We never did make it to either one of the Portlands or to Carlsbad Caverns, but we did fly to Florida again in late May to see Laci’s dad (and Linda) and after one day of visiting (quite enough, thank you) we rented a car and drove to the Keys for a few days.
It was while we were on Key West, prowling around in front of Ernest Hemmingway’s old house (looking for cats with extra toes) that my phone vibrated.
“Hi,” I answered.
Caller ID had already told me that the call was from Dorito, but the voice on the other end of the line let me know that is was actually my seven-year old granddaughter, Hannah.
“Brinnnnng, brinnnng,” she said, imitating the ring of a telephone. This was her standard way of starting conversations with me.
“Hello?” I said, ready to play along.
“Hi,” she said. “Is ‘I love you’ there?”
“I love you?” I asked, feigning confusion.
“I love you too!” she cried and then she began to giggle hysterically. I laughed with her and then she told me the reason for her call: her mom had had a sonogram earlier in the day and her dad was too chicken to call and tell me that she was going to have another sister.
After we came home from Florida, all of our attention turned to Grace and Andrew’s wedding. The wedding was going to be in California (which had the potential to turn into a logistical nightmare), but eventually everyone who needed to be there (and, more importantly, all of the dresses and tuxedos) finally arrived safely on the West Coast. When Marco arranged to have a BMW convertible waiting for him at the airport, Grace complained that he was showing off and trying to steal attention away from her on what was supposed to be her big day. (I noticed, however, that this didn’t stop her from jumping in the front seat when he was offering everybody rides.)
At the rehearsal dinner I was sitting and talking about our upcoming fishing trip with Dorito and Tanner (who – like all of our children – Grace regarded as family and wouldn’t have considered having a wedding without), when I suddenly heard her call to her future father-in-law, who was sitting at an adjoining table.
“Yes?” he answered.
“Would you please get my brother for me?” she asked innoce
ntly, motioning toward Marco who was sitting a few tables further away.
“Oh, no,” I muttered, shaking my head. Tanner and Dorito both grinned.
Ever since she had been a little girl, Grace’s chief objective in life had been to annoy Marco. Whatever she threw at him he usually let roll off of his back, but Grace had managed to find one sure-fire method of getting under his skin.
Everyone who knew the two of them would have answered Grace’s request with, “No. Get him yourself!” But Andrew’s dad didn’t know any better and he promptly turned in Marco’s direction.
“Marco?” he called loudly.
“Po-lo!” Grace sang even louder, shooting Marco an evil grin. He actually picked up a salt shaker off of his table and threw it across the room at her.
“Hey!” she shouted when it hit her. “You’re not supposed to throw things at the bride!”
“Bride of Godzilla!” he shot back. Then he looked at Andrew who was sitting next to her and added, “No offense.”
I had found out two weddings ago that there is really no good place for the father of the bride to be on the wedding day. The room where the groom is getting ready (in this case, the church’s library) held the groom and his buddies and his father and other people who, in general, knew him really well. Having only met Andrew a few times before, I felt like a gatecrasher when I stepped in to speak with him – not really knowing whether I was supposed to wish him luck or just glare at him and threaten him with bodily damage if he ever hurt my little girl. After I finished mumbling something to him, I stepped back out into the hallway and then wandered into the vestibule, peering into the sanctuary that was quickly filling up with people. Marco and Dorito didn’t really know Andrew all that well either, so they weren’t groomsmen, but they were ushers, and I saw that they were busily seating people who came in from the blistering heat outside.
Finally I moseyed into the parlor where Grace was getting ready. She was fully dressed now and surrounded by her sisters and Laci as they worked on her hair and veil and dress. I sat on a couch and waited for my big moment to arrive.