Rachel Schrader, and ending with Uncle Martin’s declaration that he wanted to discuss Julie with “someone her own age.”
“Actually,” I said, “I’m not Julie’s age. I’m at least five years older. Or at least I thought I was. Julie’s age wasn’t in her obituary. But I found out today she went to high school with Margaret. Margaret knows her a lot better than I do, actually.”
Joe laughed. “Margaret’s the one with six kids, right? She might not be nearly as interesting to Martin Schrader as a gorgeous six-foot beauty queen.”
Suddenly I was as angry as ever, and all my intentions of not discussing how angry I had been flew away. “Gorgeous six-foot beauty queen! You sound just like my mother.”
Joe looked taken aback. “Your mother? Why?”
“The only reason I got into the beauty pageant business was my mother. She pushed and pushed. She kept telling me it would help my self-esteem, give me confidence.”
“You seem to have plenty of both. Maybe it worked.”
“No! It destroyed both. How would you like having a pageant director tell you to work on your inner thighs? Having the musical director tell you not to worry about your tiny, weak little voice because he can beef it up with the sound system? I may have learned how to fake confidence, but if I have any self-esteem, it’s because I learned to stand up for myself and tell the beauty business—and my mother—to go jump.”
Joe sipped his wine, then put the glass down on the coffee table. Then he turned toward me, but leaned back in the corner of the couch. “Did I ever tell you that you have a beautiful—” he paused and cleared his throat—“mind?”
I looked at him narrowly. “Just don’t forget that,” I said.
Then we were both laughing, and I had laid my head on his shoulder, and he had put his arms around me.
“Am I wrong in thinking I brought this on by talking about our wedding plans?” Joe said.
“You made me think of my mom, I guess, and she’s a major reason that I don’t want a big wedding. Besides, Joe, I’m almost thirty years old. I’m too old to be a blushing bride.”
He pulled me closer. “I don’t expect you to blush for anybody but me. But that’s beside the point. Your problem with the wedding isn’t really about your parents.”
“I thought it was.”
“No, it’s about something more important. It’s about you spending fifteen years of your life avoiding confrontation with your parents.”
“That’s silly! My mother and I argue all the time.”
“No, you don’t. You get mad at your mother all the time, but you never tell her what you think. You haven’t really told her to ‘go jump.’ You’ve just started avoiding sensitive topics.”
“I don’t think I do that.”
“Remember Christmas? We wanted to spend Christmas Day with her, then go to Prairie Creek to see your dad the day after. But she said we’d have to do it the other way around so she could stay over a day in Hong Kong. All you said was, ‘Yes, Mother.’ ”
“Why fight about it? She’s entitled to her plans.”
“Yes, but those plans forced us into spending Christmas Day with your stepmother’s family. We didn’t have a chance to really talk to your dad until late that night, and only for a short time. And having us show up a day early annoyed Annie and her daughter.”
“They’re always annoyed with me over something.”
“I don’t think Annie was annoyed with you. She was mad at your mom.”
“Why?”
“Because your mom forced us to change our plans and our new plans interfered with Annie’s family reunion. Now, Brenda’s another case. Brenda’s just flat jealous of you.”
“Jealous! Why?”
Joe hugged me tighter. “Because your dad loves you best.”
I stared. “But he’s my dad! He’s just her stepdad.”
“Does Brenda have a father?”
“Well, he’s never around.”
“I noticed she didn’t get a Christmas present from him.”
I sighed. “I guess it is pretty hard on
“Actually,” I said, “I’m not Julie’s age. I’m at least five years older. Or at least I thought I was. Julie’s age wasn’t in her obituary. But I found out today she went to high school with Margaret. Margaret knows her a lot better than I do, actually.”
Joe laughed. “Margaret’s the one with six kids, right? She might not be nearly as interesting to Martin Schrader as a gorgeous six-foot beauty queen.”
Suddenly I was as angry as ever, and all my intentions of not discussing how angry I had been flew away. “Gorgeous six-foot beauty queen! You sound just like my mother.”
Joe looked taken aback. “Your mother? Why?”
“The only reason I got into the beauty pageant business was my mother. She pushed and pushed. She kept telling me it would help my self-esteem, give me confidence.”
“You seem to have plenty of both. Maybe it worked.”
“No! It destroyed both. How would you like having a pageant director tell you to work on your inner thighs? Having the musical director tell you not to worry about your tiny, weak little voice because he can beef it up with the sound system? I may have learned how to fake confidence, but if I have any self-esteem, it’s because I learned to stand up for myself and tell the beauty business—and my mother—to go jump.”
Joe sipped his wine, then put the glass down on the coffee table. Then he turned toward me, but leaned back in the corner of the couch. “Did I ever tell you that you have a beautiful—” he paused and cleared his throat—“mind?”
I looked at him narrowly. “Just don’t forget that,” I said.
Then we were both laughing, and I had laid my head on his shoulder, and he had put his arms around me.
“Am I wrong in thinking I brought this on by talking about our wedding plans?” Joe said.
“You made me think of my mom, I guess, and she’s a major reason that I don’t want a big wedding. Besides, Joe, I’m almost thirty years old. I’m too old to be a blushing bride.”
He pulled me closer. “I don’t expect you to blush for anybody but me. But that’s beside the point. Your problem with the wedding isn’t really about your parents.”
“I thought it was.”
“No, it’s about something more important. It’s about you spending fifteen years of your life avoiding confrontation with your parents.”
“That’s silly! My mother and I argue all the time.”
“No, you don’t. You get mad at your mother all the time, but you never tell her what you think. You haven’t really told her to ‘go jump.’ You’ve just started avoiding sensitive topics.”
“I don’t think I do that.”
“Remember Christmas? We wanted to spend Christmas Day with her, then go to Prairie Creek to see your dad the day after. But she said we’d have to do it the other way around so she could stay over a day in Hong Kong. All you said was, ‘Yes, Mother.’ ”
“Why fight about it? She’s entitled to her plans.”
“Yes, but those plans forced us into spending Christmas Day with your stepmother’s family. We didn’t have a chance to really talk to your dad until late that night, and only for a short time. And having us show up a day early annoyed Annie and her daughter.”
“They’re always annoyed with me over something.”
“I don’t think Annie was annoyed with you. She was mad at your mom.”
“Why?”
“Because your mom forced us to change our plans and our new plans interfered with Annie’s family reunion. Now, Brenda’s another case. Brenda’s just flat jealous of you.”
“Jealous! Why?”
Joe hugged me tighter. “Because your dad loves you best.”
I stared. “But he’s my dad! He’s just her stepdad.”
“Does Brenda have a father?”
“Well, he’s never around.”
“I noticed she didn’t get a Christmas present from him.”
I sighed. “I guess it is pretty hard on
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