Garretts. I asked Brenda to put a half-pound box of chocolates on my account, so I could take it as a hostess gift. Then I pretended to work.
I hope that I fooled the hairnetladies, Brenda and Tracy at the counter, and the customers—even the tourists who took a gander at our prices and walked out again. But I couldn’t fool myself. Too much had happened that day. My mind was whirling, and I didn’t accomplish a thing.
I simply had to talk to Joe, and that wasn’t going to be easy.
Our house has a certain rustic charm, but it also has a major problem, and I’m not talkingabout the excavation for the new bathroom and kitchen foundation. The place is an echo chamber. As a teenager I’d discovered that I could hear anything that went on anyplace in the darn house. Which meant that anybody else in the house could also hear me. The episode when I overheard Pete giving Joe a candid assessment of my mental capacity was typical of how things went in that house.
So eventhough Joe and I had managed to reserve the use of the one downstairs bedroom just for the two of us, we had to be cautious about talking in there. Between Brenda, Tracy, and Gina overhead and Pete out on the porch—well, we’d spent the past two weeks learning to make love without uttering loud cries of ecstasy. When it came to a serious talk about sensitive subjects, playing the radio and whisperingwasn’t going to do the job. I might feel compelled to yell out a few basic truths.
No, that talk we needed to have wasn’t going to just happen. It would have to be a date.
I picked up the phone and called the boat shop. I got Joe’s answering machine. I left a message. “Please call me, Joe.” I called the house. I got our answering machine. I left a message. “Please call me immediately, Joe.”I called Joe’s cell phone. I got his voice mail. I left a message. “Call me the second you hear this, Joe, on pain of death.”
But it was eight thirty, the workroom had been closed for hours, and Brenda and Tracy were cleaning the shop before Joe called back.
“What’s up?”
How could he sound so casual? If I’d been mad at midafternoon, I was now steaming. Only the fact that Tracy and Brenda werestanding fifteen feet away kept me from lacing into him with both sides of my tongue.
“Several things have come up today that need discussion,” I said. “Can you come down here?”
“The shower’s free at the moment, and I was thinking of getting into it. Can’t we talk at home?”
“No.”
Joe didn’t respond for a moment. I was trying to keep my cool because of Brenda and Tracy, and he probably hadPete and Gina standing around behind him with their ears hanging out.
“I’ll be there at nine,” Joe said.
Joe got to the shop at eight fifty-five p.m., entering by the front door. He helped finish up, sweeping the front of the shop while Tracy and Brenda cleaned and restocked the glass cases. I balanced the cash register. All the time Joe kept up a steady stream of Michigan State jokes—in Texaswe call them Aggie jokes—while Tracy countered with some University of Michigan jokes, the same ones called Teasipper jokes in the Southwest. The girls enjoyed his performance.
I was still too mad to be amused, and Joe kept shooting significant glances in my direction all the time, so I gathered that he was nervous about what I was going to say. Somehow this made me madder than ever. Did he regardme as a witch with a capital B, a nagging wife who had to be placated? I determined to keep our discussion calm and rational.
After Joe walked Tracy and Brenda out to Brenda’s car, which was parked in the alley, I met him in the break room, carrying the legal pad I’d used for my list of discussion topics.
“Uh-oh. This is serious stuff.” Joe tapped the legal pad. “You had to make notes.” ThenJoe put his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. “Are we about to have our first fight? I’m already looking forward to making up.”
I didn’t push
I hope that I fooled the hairnetladies, Brenda and Tracy at the counter, and the customers—even the tourists who took a gander at our prices and walked out again. But I couldn’t fool myself. Too much had happened that day. My mind was whirling, and I didn’t accomplish a thing.
I simply had to talk to Joe, and that wasn’t going to be easy.
Our house has a certain rustic charm, but it also has a major problem, and I’m not talkingabout the excavation for the new bathroom and kitchen foundation. The place is an echo chamber. As a teenager I’d discovered that I could hear anything that went on anyplace in the darn house. Which meant that anybody else in the house could also hear me. The episode when I overheard Pete giving Joe a candid assessment of my mental capacity was typical of how things went in that house.
So eventhough Joe and I had managed to reserve the use of the one downstairs bedroom just for the two of us, we had to be cautious about talking in there. Between Brenda, Tracy, and Gina overhead and Pete out on the porch—well, we’d spent the past two weeks learning to make love without uttering loud cries of ecstasy. When it came to a serious talk about sensitive subjects, playing the radio and whisperingwasn’t going to do the job. I might feel compelled to yell out a few basic truths.
No, that talk we needed to have wasn’t going to just happen. It would have to be a date.
I picked up the phone and called the boat shop. I got Joe’s answering machine. I left a message. “Please call me, Joe.” I called the house. I got our answering machine. I left a message. “Please call me immediately, Joe.”I called Joe’s cell phone. I got his voice mail. I left a message. “Call me the second you hear this, Joe, on pain of death.”
But it was eight thirty, the workroom had been closed for hours, and Brenda and Tracy were cleaning the shop before Joe called back.
“What’s up?”
How could he sound so casual? If I’d been mad at midafternoon, I was now steaming. Only the fact that Tracy and Brenda werestanding fifteen feet away kept me from lacing into him with both sides of my tongue.
“Several things have come up today that need discussion,” I said. “Can you come down here?”
“The shower’s free at the moment, and I was thinking of getting into it. Can’t we talk at home?”
“No.”
Joe didn’t respond for a moment. I was trying to keep my cool because of Brenda and Tracy, and he probably hadPete and Gina standing around behind him with their ears hanging out.
“I’ll be there at nine,” Joe said.
Joe got to the shop at eight fifty-five p.m., entering by the front door. He helped finish up, sweeping the front of the shop while Tracy and Brenda cleaned and restocked the glass cases. I balanced the cash register. All the time Joe kept up a steady stream of Michigan State jokes—in Texaswe call them Aggie jokes—while Tracy countered with some University of Michigan jokes, the same ones called Teasipper jokes in the Southwest. The girls enjoyed his performance.
I was still too mad to be amused, and Joe kept shooting significant glances in my direction all the time, so I gathered that he was nervous about what I was going to say. Somehow this made me madder than ever. Did he regardme as a witch with a capital B, a nagging wife who had to be placated? I determined to keep our discussion calm and rational.
After Joe walked Tracy and Brenda out to Brenda’s car, which was parked in the alley, I met him in the break room, carrying the legal pad I’d used for my list of discussion topics.
“Uh-oh. This is serious stuff.” Joe tapped the legal pad. “You had to make notes.” ThenJoe put his arms around me and nuzzled my neck. “Are we about to have our first fight? I’m already looking forward to making up.”
I didn’t push
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