arrived, I ordered the “quee-chee” and blushed hard when the waitress replied, “The quiche, then? Or maybe the young lady would prefer some pasta?” with a sideways glance at my mother.
Now I hear the heavy door squeak open, and the man is framed by a corona of sunshine, coming right at me with arms outstretched.
I return Beck’s hug warmly.
“So good to see you,” he says, and we follow the hostess to a booth. It might be my imagination, but as he glances over his shoulder, it looks like he’s worried about being seen by someone he knows.
We make small talk about pleasant June weather and exchange polite inquiries about family. His parents are fine; his sister is fine at Harvard. I tell him my mother is fine. There’s no reason for him to ask about my father.
“Nice that your brother is getting married,” I say, carrying on the family thread and stirring my iced tea. “Is he in the family business, too?”
“Yeah, so far Dad has kept us all on the reservation, except Tabitha, but she’ll probably stay out east, she says. New York or somewhere. Boston, Philly. Somewhere like that.”
“What’s it like working for your dad?”
Beck’s smile is thin. “It’s swell, you know. He’s so experienced and everyone knows him. It’s gratifying to see buildings go up that you first saw on blueprints.”
He doesn’t meet my eye for the “gratifying” part.
I already know from e-mails that he works for his dad as an environmental consultant, adding green spaces and proper drainage to the Becker Development projects.
“Hug any trees lately?” I ask him as our food arrives: salad for me, a Reuben for him.
“As many as possible. Though I don’t have much time for petitions and such these days. I do recycle and compost at home. Couldn’t talk Sam into cloth diapers, but we’ll try that next time, I guess.” His smile fails completely and he looks down into his lap.
“You okay?” I ask him. He’s ignoring his sandwich.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just a little frustrated at home. Sam has been so mad at me all the time lately, like I can’t do a single thing right. Like just today, I left a dish out on the counter this morning and she called me at work to yell at me over it just before I had a big meeting with the city planners. She said it showed I didn’t care about how much work she had to do all day.”
I clear my throat and glance around. In all our friendly e-mail banter, he’d never before complained about his wife. “Ever occur to you to put the dish away, Boy Genius?”
“Well, of course, I should . . . Hey, whose side are you on?” He smiles but quickly looks away, back at his sandwich, which he’s still not eating.
“We’re taking sides now? I’m just saying, it seems pretty simple to me. Put the dish away. Ta-da!”
He shook his head. “Marriages aren’t that simple, and then adding a child adds a whole other level . . .”
In other words, I know nothing about having a family. I cross my arms and tune him out.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” He reaches across for my elbow, but he can’t reach it and I don’t give in to the gesture. “I shouldn’t have started complaining and all. It’s fine, it’ll all work out. Let’s stop carrying on about me. Are you enjoying your vacation?”
“It’s not a vacation. A friend died and I was distracted at work, so they sent me home.”
I’ve caught Beck with a mouthful of sandwich for this, so he can’t reply except to wrinkle up his forehead and kind of murmur sympathetically. I wave away his stricken look.
“It’s fine. I mean, sad, of course. But everything will be fine. I’m looking forward to going back because I’m up for partner soon and I really need to be working now.”
He’s finally swallowed. “Congratulations. I always knew you’d make Haven proud.”
I shrug. “Actually, I am worried about my mom. She’s been . . .”
Now it’s my turn to look around the restaurant. It’s dim but sparsely
Now I hear the heavy door squeak open, and the man is framed by a corona of sunshine, coming right at me with arms outstretched.
I return Beck’s hug warmly.
“So good to see you,” he says, and we follow the hostess to a booth. It might be my imagination, but as he glances over his shoulder, it looks like he’s worried about being seen by someone he knows.
We make small talk about pleasant June weather and exchange polite inquiries about family. His parents are fine; his sister is fine at Harvard. I tell him my mother is fine. There’s no reason for him to ask about my father.
“Nice that your brother is getting married,” I say, carrying on the family thread and stirring my iced tea. “Is he in the family business, too?”
“Yeah, so far Dad has kept us all on the reservation, except Tabitha, but she’ll probably stay out east, she says. New York or somewhere. Boston, Philly. Somewhere like that.”
“What’s it like working for your dad?”
Beck’s smile is thin. “It’s swell, you know. He’s so experienced and everyone knows him. It’s gratifying to see buildings go up that you first saw on blueprints.”
He doesn’t meet my eye for the “gratifying” part.
I already know from e-mails that he works for his dad as an environmental consultant, adding green spaces and proper drainage to the Becker Development projects.
“Hug any trees lately?” I ask him as our food arrives: salad for me, a Reuben for him.
“As many as possible. Though I don’t have much time for petitions and such these days. I do recycle and compost at home. Couldn’t talk Sam into cloth diapers, but we’ll try that next time, I guess.” His smile fails completely and he looks down into his lap.
“You okay?” I ask him. He’s ignoring his sandwich.
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just a little frustrated at home. Sam has been so mad at me all the time lately, like I can’t do a single thing right. Like just today, I left a dish out on the counter this morning and she called me at work to yell at me over it just before I had a big meeting with the city planners. She said it showed I didn’t care about how much work she had to do all day.”
I clear my throat and glance around. In all our friendly e-mail banter, he’d never before complained about his wife. “Ever occur to you to put the dish away, Boy Genius?”
“Well, of course, I should . . . Hey, whose side are you on?” He smiles but quickly looks away, back at his sandwich, which he’s still not eating.
“We’re taking sides now? I’m just saying, it seems pretty simple to me. Put the dish away. Ta-da!”
He shook his head. “Marriages aren’t that simple, and then adding a child adds a whole other level . . .”
In other words, I know nothing about having a family. I cross my arms and tune him out.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” He reaches across for my elbow, but he can’t reach it and I don’t give in to the gesture. “I shouldn’t have started complaining and all. It’s fine, it’ll all work out. Let’s stop carrying on about me. Are you enjoying your vacation?”
“It’s not a vacation. A friend died and I was distracted at work, so they sent me home.”
I’ve caught Beck with a mouthful of sandwich for this, so he can’t reply except to wrinkle up his forehead and kind of murmur sympathetically. I wave away his stricken look.
“It’s fine. I mean, sad, of course. But everything will be fine. I’m looking forward to going back because I’m up for partner soon and I really need to be working now.”
He’s finally swallowed. “Congratulations. I always knew you’d make Haven proud.”
I shrug. “Actually, I am worried about my mom. She’s been . . .”
Now it’s my turn to look around the restaurant. It’s dim but sparsely
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