won’t accept him.
Ever.
It is Harry’s moment of truth, his rite of passage, and doesn’t he just know it. His eyes catch mine for a mere nanosecond, as if to say
BRING. IT. ON.
Dear Harry, be careful what you wish for. . . .
“It’s funny you should ask, Colleen.” Harry shifts slightly closer to her and oh-so-gently grazes her little finger with his own, creating the kind of intimacy that this perennial sports widow with three hyperactive sons and an obsession with romance novels has only dreamt about. “Since—well, since she left me, I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.”
Brooke’s perfect pout falls open. Her disappointment is obvious. “Then you don’t know
for sure
?”
He gives Colleen’s hand a light pat before turning those piercing baby-blues on Brooke.
“No, Brooke, I can’t say that I do. All I know is that she—
we
—quit talking about a month ago. I don’t mean that we stopped chitchatting about the usual stuff: the kids, finances, you know, those ‘Hi, honey, how was your day?’ comments. But one day those really deep conversations we both lived for
just went away
.” As he looks down at his coffee, the women exchange glances, and I know why. Harry Wilder has just presented the ultimate fantasy:
A husband who actually wants to have a two-way conversation.
“At first I just assumed she was a bit preoccupied. Temple has just started kindergarten, and now that Jake’s in the eighth grade, all of a sudden he’s discovered girls.” Tammy, Brooke, and I chuckle appreciatively. We all have boys in middle school, and have seen a big change in their behavior. “But DeeDee’s never been one to complain.She’ll ask for help only when she’s done everything she can on her own. Frankly, that’s one of the things I love about her. I assume you noticed that about her too.”
The women smile and nod absently, then drop their heads guiltily. The truth is that none of us were ever close to DeeDee. In fact, just hearing Harry talk so lovingly about the woman renowned for her frigid air makes him even more of a saint in our eyes.
“Of course, I assumed that eventually she’d mention whatever was bothering her. But she never did. Little did I know that I was the problem.”
“Surely there must have been some telltale signs. There always are. . . .” Even as Tammy says this, it’s obvious to everyone at the table that she is grasping at straws.
“You know, I’ve thought about that. Were there times she was sad? Or angry? Did she leave me notes, asking to talk things out? No. She’s always grace under pressure.”
Translation: DeeDee’s frozen smile was a Kabuki mask that never came off. Not even for her husband.
“As for our lovemaking—well, quite frankly, if I were to describe it, I guess I’d say we went at it like teenagers. Particularly after a business trip . . . Sorry, I’m speaking out of school here. Oh, what the hell. I’m among friends, right?” Sheepishly he looks down at his coffee. Everyone’s eyes focus on the way his large, broad hands easily envelop his mug. I can just imagine what they are thinking:
Large digits, large dick . . .
To break the spell, I ask the question that is on everyone’s lips: “How exactly did she walk out?”
“It happened on Halloween. I’d had a low-grade fever that morning, so I came home from work earlier than usual. My garage door opener wasn’t working, so I parked in the driveway and tried the front door, but it was locked. I let myself in through the back. At first I didn’t hear anything at all. Only when I got into the bedroom did I realize that DeeDee was in the shower, with . . . with . . .” He stopsfor a moment, closes his eyes, and rubs his forehead. Obviously, the memory of the day still leaves him dumbfounded.
Well, that’s too bad, because the suspense is killing the rest of us. Even the ever-snide Isabelle is enthralled. I can tell because she’s stopped midgobble on her
Ever.
It is Harry’s moment of truth, his rite of passage, and doesn’t he just know it. His eyes catch mine for a mere nanosecond, as if to say
BRING. IT. ON.
Dear Harry, be careful what you wish for. . . .
“It’s funny you should ask, Colleen.” Harry shifts slightly closer to her and oh-so-gently grazes her little finger with his own, creating the kind of intimacy that this perennial sports widow with three hyperactive sons and an obsession with romance novels has only dreamt about. “Since—well, since she left me, I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.”
Brooke’s perfect pout falls open. Her disappointment is obvious. “Then you don’t know
for sure
?”
He gives Colleen’s hand a light pat before turning those piercing baby-blues on Brooke.
“No, Brooke, I can’t say that I do. All I know is that she—
we
—quit talking about a month ago. I don’t mean that we stopped chitchatting about the usual stuff: the kids, finances, you know, those ‘Hi, honey, how was your day?’ comments. But one day those really deep conversations we both lived for
just went away
.” As he looks down at his coffee, the women exchange glances, and I know why. Harry Wilder has just presented the ultimate fantasy:
A husband who actually wants to have a two-way conversation.
“At first I just assumed she was a bit preoccupied. Temple has just started kindergarten, and now that Jake’s in the eighth grade, all of a sudden he’s discovered girls.” Tammy, Brooke, and I chuckle appreciatively. We all have boys in middle school, and have seen a big change in their behavior. “But DeeDee’s never been one to complain.She’ll ask for help only when she’s done everything she can on her own. Frankly, that’s one of the things I love about her. I assume you noticed that about her too.”
The women smile and nod absently, then drop their heads guiltily. The truth is that none of us were ever close to DeeDee. In fact, just hearing Harry talk so lovingly about the woman renowned for her frigid air makes him even more of a saint in our eyes.
“Of course, I assumed that eventually she’d mention whatever was bothering her. But she never did. Little did I know that I was the problem.”
“Surely there must have been some telltale signs. There always are. . . .” Even as Tammy says this, it’s obvious to everyone at the table that she is grasping at straws.
“You know, I’ve thought about that. Were there times she was sad? Or angry? Did she leave me notes, asking to talk things out? No. She’s always grace under pressure.”
Translation: DeeDee’s frozen smile was a Kabuki mask that never came off. Not even for her husband.
“As for our lovemaking—well, quite frankly, if I were to describe it, I guess I’d say we went at it like teenagers. Particularly after a business trip . . . Sorry, I’m speaking out of school here. Oh, what the hell. I’m among friends, right?” Sheepishly he looks down at his coffee. Everyone’s eyes focus on the way his large, broad hands easily envelop his mug. I can just imagine what they are thinking:
Large digits, large dick . . .
To break the spell, I ask the question that is on everyone’s lips: “How exactly did she walk out?”
“It happened on Halloween. I’d had a low-grade fever that morning, so I came home from work earlier than usual. My garage door opener wasn’t working, so I parked in the driveway and tried the front door, but it was locked. I let myself in through the back. At first I didn’t hear anything at all. Only when I got into the bedroom did I realize that DeeDee was in the shower, with . . . with . . .” He stopsfor a moment, closes his eyes, and rubs his forehead. Obviously, the memory of the day still leaves him dumbfounded.
Well, that’s too bad, because the suspense is killing the rest of us. Even the ever-snide Isabelle is enthralled. I can tell because she’s stopped midgobble on her
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