Memories Monday Contingency Plans

Ed and I have some of our most interesting conversations in bed.  Last night, I said, “Would you still love me if I murdered somebody?”

He said, “Yeah.”

Then I said, “If I got caught but had a chance for parole, would wait for me?”

He said, “Sure, why not?”

I said, “Do you think your mother would help out with the kids?  Maybe she could even move in.  You could put Cilla in with Betsey and give her Cilla’s room.  Or maybe you could move the girls into our room and take Betsey’s, since there’d be two of them and one of you.  Unless you wanted to leave everything just as I left it for when I got out.”

Every once in while Ed will say something surprising.  “Well, by the time you got out, you’d need new clothes, since your old things would be out of style.”

I had an idea. “If the trial was sensational enough, you could sell them.”  Suddenly I felt very generous, since Ed was willing to wait for me. “You can sell all my stuff, except my Barbara Pym books.  That could help pay the lawyers.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Charlie.  That might upset the kids.  Maybe I could just write a book.”

And they say accountants don't have any imagination!

Meltdown and Cleanup

I don’t know why I lost it after Ed’s remark about the Medicis and Henry the Eighth. At least he didn’t say it was junior high.  The whole thing is, I suppose, but I am too cool to be embarrassed by my own social awkwardness.

Cilla happened to be in the kitchen with us and she looked like she thought she should cry too, but didn’t know why.  She looked at Ed.  He didn’t know what to say.  Josh happened to walk by, took everything in, and asked, “Do you have PMS, Mom?  Would you like some cookies?”

“And a nice cup of tea?” Cilla added.

Ed made me a cup of tea and Cilla brought me some tissues.  Josh found cookies (those sugar cookies from the grocery store that have the icing the color of sidewalk chalk and sprinkles.  I like to just eat the icing.) He even put them on a plate.  I think Betsey’s calling him “Father Josh” has had some effect, because he said, “Now what’s the problem?”

Betsey must have heard the commotion because she came downstairs.  “Mommy’s upset because Grandpa Jack is going to marry Nana because he stole her from Grandpa Doug.”

I was so surprised that I couldn’t even tell them that they were just dating.  Cilla wanted to know if they would get married in Grandma Kate’s church and if she could have a new dress to be flower girl this time.

Later I realized that I really wasn’t thinking straight because I said, “You can probably be a bridesmaid this time since Courtney won’t be in the wedding.”  Courtney is Ed’s sister Allison’s daughter, and of course they won’t be there.  I don’t think Allison is ready for that much healing.

Ed muttered something about Missy’s last wedding being in some field.  Janet had told him he would have to go, and when Doug asked him to be his best man, she’d told him he’d have to do that, too.  She had told Ed and Allison to watch out for cow pies, and Allison, who was going to be a bridesmaid, had said she was just trying to spoil things for her and flounced off to her room.  (I got this story from Janet when we were reminiscing about weddings.)  It didn’t make things any better when Allison did step in one.

Dear Readers:  In case you missed some of the action, the players are:

Jack:  my father, a cute old guy.

Janet:  Ed’s mother, who is now married to Kate, the rector of The Episcopal Church of the Epiphany.  Janet was left by

Doug: Ed and Allison's father,  for

Missy (Nana), who has just left Doug for my father.

Later I found out that Betsey had heard about it from Nikki’s daughter Ilsa, who had heard Nikki talking on the phone to Karen.

 

 

Memories Monday -- WWMMD? What Would Miss Marple Do?

Today two detectives came to the library and questioned everybody.  They called us into the conference room one by one.  It was like waiting to be called into the principal’s office.  (Not that that ever happened to me.)  Afterwards we milled around comparing notes.  Not much work got done.

To save time, I guess, and probably because we looked like a pretty tame bunch, everyone was interviewed by one officer.  Mine looked like Stephen Colbert and called me Mrs. McDonald.  He seemed interested that I had lunch with Margaret.  What did we talk about? (Books, movies, my children, her niece and nephews.)  Had I ever been to her house?   (I hadn’t.  They didn’t take my fingerprints just to make sure.)  He thanked me and said I’d been helpful, though I wondered if knowing Margaret’s tastes in literature (classic English novels and “cozy” mysteries) and tea (lemon and Sweet and Low) would help.

Not only did he not tell me not to leave town, he didn’t even call me back about “one more thing I forgot to ask,” like Columbo used to. 

The kids were disappointed.  So were Nikki and Karen.   Karen thinks Margaret had something going on with somebody.  Nikki thinks she had been involved with something illegal and had had to be whacked.  I found it hard to believe either of Margaret.  Maybe she had accidentally found out something and had to be silenced.

“Like what?” Karen wanted to know.

“Somebody was embezzling church funds.”  (This happens more often than you would imagine.  Just bring it up among a group of church people and you’ll get enough material for at least ten mystery novels.)  “Or somebody stole something at the library.   We do have a rare book collection.”

“Or maybe she found out about somebody’s affair.”  Karen has always been a romantic. 

Then we discussed me as a suspect.  Naturally, I wouldn’t be doing anything illegal.  So that just left affairs of the heart. I could have killed her because Ed was having an affair with her.  We all laughed at that, since an affair would be too much trouble for Ed.  Actually, I’m a better candidate.  Even though I’m not gay, I might take the trouble for the right person.  In my imagination, that is.  Not that there’s anything wrong with being a Lesbian.  Maybe she had wanted me to leave Ed and had threatened to go public.  Or she was going to dump me and I didn’t want anyone else to have her.  Or Ed had found out and killed her.  I like to think he would have taken the trouble to do that at least.  Of course, if he got caught, I’d wait for him.

You know, I don't know if they know that I know.

Although I wasn’t around when Doug left Janet for Missy, Ed told me about it.  Actually, I wormed it out of him.

Janet had really been more upset about losing Missy and basically told Doug, “Ok, see you.”  Doug had been fooling around for years.

Allison had cried and yelled and slammed doors.  She blamed Janet and said that maybe if she’d been a better cook and housekeeper, he wouldn’t have left.  Not that she ever tried to help except by pointing out what needed to be done.

Ed had been upset, of course, but he had thrown himself into school and sports.  That might have been partly because Doug had told the kids, “Don’t think you’re going to be cut any breaks because you come from a broken home.  You’re not going to be allowed to slack off.”

And so they didn’t.

Janet had moved away from the activism.  As she put it, ‘What with ‘Discovering My True Sexual Identity’, as they say, and all, I couldn’t give poverty and injustice my full attention.”

Ed says that discovering her true sexual identity mostly involved talking on the phone and running around with her new friends.

Janet enrolled in a program for displaced homemakers at the Community College and became a legal secretary.  Naturally she had to wear business clothes to work.  (The secretarial course had included makeup and wardrobe tips, which she said made her teeth hurt, but what can you do?)  Missy wears gauzy shirts and embroidered tunics and jewelry made by her artist friends or from some boutique that specializes in “crafts.”  To be fair, she is the office manager for a group of therapists.

I always have my father over for dinner on Father’s Day.  Sometime Ed’s father and Missy would come, unless they’d gone out to visit Allison.  The men would usually watch sports on TV.  My mother was fascinated by Missy.  “Karma, chakras, meditation. It’s just lucky she has a husband.”

Janet had always told the children to be polite to Missy, so it’s a habit.   And she is very good to the kids, who call her “Nana.”  They have the latest in gender-neutral toys and political t-shirts that are not made in sweatshops.

Nikki said I should call Doug and invite him and Missy and then he would tell me.  I thought that was a bit junior high and that it was more “Mature” and “Appropriate” not to say anything, which probably isn’t healthy, but there are some parts of your upbringing you can’t escape.

Finally, Janet talked to Missy, since they are friends again.  Missy talked to my father and then to Janet and Janet called me.  So I called Missy and invited them.  When I told Ed, he said, “Is this the court of the Medicis or Henry the Eighth?  All this intrigue over a dinner.”

And then, for some reason, I started to cry.

 

Memories Monday -- Law? Order?

Betsey and Josh took it upon themselves to prepare me for my interrogation – if there is one.  I haven’t heard anything yet.  Betsey was the brilliant defense attorney and Josh the loyal associate, or maybe her private detective.  Cilla hung around so as not to miss anything.

“Now remember,” Betsey cautioned, “the cops will try to get you to confess.  Don’t believe anything they say.  Don’t you say anything without a lawyer.”

“I don’t have anything to confess. I didn’t do it.”

“They don’t care.”

“What if they won’t let her go to the bathroom unless she confesses?” Cilla chimed in.  That did make me a little nervous.  I guess it’s all the worrying I do about children’s and animals’ bladders.  (Ed can look out for himself.)

“Ask to see a lawyer right away,” Josh advised.  “He’ll make them let you go.” 

“Or she,” Betsey corrected.

Ed was passing by on his way to somewhere.  “Just make sure you get a public defender.  Otherwise, we won’t be able to afford Disney World next year.”

“I don’t want to go the Disney World if Mommy’s in jail,” Cilla wailed.

“That’s all right; we can all send her postcards.”

“Stop it, Ed.  Just go do whatever it is you’re doing.  Or take the dog out.”

“Anyway,” Betsey continued, “Don’t get taken in by the good cop/bad cop routine.  You know what that is, don’t you?”

“I think so.”  There was no sense telling the kids that Ed and I had used it for years.  (Not having someone to be the other cop must be one of the hardest things about being a single parent.)

Fortunately, they didn’t want to role play for practice.

“They’ll ask you if you want a cup of coffee to give you a false sense of security.”

“I just drink tea,” I interrupted.  I couldn’t help myself.

“If you ask for tea that might make them mad.  You’d better just say, ’No thank you.’”

I almost suggested that I could wait for the lawyer and then ask for tea, but since I don’t have the legal knowledge the children have picked up from television, I decided to keep quiet.  Besides, tea might make me have to go to the bathroom.  Diet soda would be best, since it makes you retain water.  There’s sodium in it, I think.

By then, it was time to start dinner.  I thanked Betsey and Josh for their help and Priscilla for her support.

Of course, I don’t have anything to worry about, since I’m innocent.  But isn’t that what they all say in the mystery movies?

 

Memories Monday -- The Conversation Dangles, but at Least There Are No Superficial Sighs

We always have a special family dinner for Valentine’s Day:  spaghetti, cherry 7 Up, red velvet cake, and cherry Jello in a heart-shaped mold.  (One year I made a heart-shaped meatloaf, but it clashed with the rest of the food.)

So Ed and I go out for our Romantic Dinner the Saturday after Valentine’s Day.  I root in my closet for a dress and heels, run out to buy panty hose, and find someone to stay with the kids.  Ed makes the reservation after I decide where we’re going to eat.  (Not because I’m bossy, but because he doesn’t care as long as it’s not Thai, which he says tastes like Lemon Pledge.)

Betsey and Cilla helped me accessorize while Josh hung around and argued about how late they could stay up.   Ed’s mother Janet arrived with three pizzas (plain, pepperoni, and pineapple) and enough cookies to put the children in a sugar stupor.

And we were off.

“So,” I said in the car, “what are you going to get?”

Ed didn’t want to make a commitment until he’d seen the menu.

The problem with Saturday night dates is that you’ve been together all day and have used up most of the available topics of conversation.

Of course, on the drive, there is always the traffic.

At the restaurant you can talk about the parking, the crowd, and what you are going to eat, since now you have to make a commitment.

And you can always discuss the occasionally heart-warming or more often annoying antics of the children and pets.

This year we were lucky because we could talk about the murder. I analyzed Margaret’s character and offered several scenarios of who could have done it.

Ed said he couldn’t believe that they’d gotten his steak just right and asked me if I was going to eat my share of the garlic bread or what.

Finally you can debate whether to have dessert, get one and share it, or just have coffee (or tea in my case.)  Since this was our Special Romantic Dinner, I had strawberry cheesecake.  Ed doesn’t like strawberries.  He had apple pie a la mode. He got wild and crazy and had cinnamon ice cream instead of vanilla.

There weren’t any movies we wanted to see.  I wanted to go parking, but Ed said it was too cold.

So we went home.  The kids were watching an old monster movie and dropping cookie crumbs all over the couch.  Ed grabbed a slice of pizza (only plain was left) and sat down with them.

Janet and I tidied up in the kitchen and talked about the murder for an hour and a half.

The Phantom Sister

Dee Dee is my father’s daughter from his first marriage.  I’ve never met her.  Every year my father would go out to visit her for two weeks.   Sometimes I would wonder what my sister was like.  Would she be scientific like her (our!) father or did she take after her mother?  I didn’t know anything about her.

When I would ask about Dee Dee, my mother or father always changed the subject.  So eventually I got tired of asking.

I never understood why she couldn’t come to visit us.  I thought it would be really neat to have a sister, although my cousins told me it wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.  One time I said to my grandmother, “I’ll never have any nieces or nephews!”  She told me not to be silly; I’d just have to marry someone from a large family.  Later I heard her telling Aunt Pooh that “that poor little thing” (That’s me!) had been crying about never being an aunt.  My grandmother never had a problem with embellishing a story.

Then I would worry that I would never get married.  I mentioned this to my mother, and she said, “There are worse things than never getting married.”  I couldn’t imagine what.

It turned out that my father had left Dee Dee’s mother for my mother.  She had then taken Dee Dee and moved to the other side of the country.

Karen and Nikki thought the whole thing was very romantic.  Nikki thought it was rather Dickensian and said it was too bad Dee Dee’s mother hadn’t died when she was a kid, so Dee Dee could have come and lived with us, especially since from what we heard from Aunt Pooh her mother wasn’t very nice.  Or, as Karen put it, “a bitch.”  “She probably drove him into your mother’s arms.”

When I mentioned the whole marriage/inheritance situation, neither one of them said, “But they aren’t even engaged yet”.  That’s one of the things I love about them.

But they wanted to know what he had said to me and I had to admit I hadn’t talked to him.  “As far as I know, he doesn’t even know I know.”

“Oh, he knows you know,” Nikki said.  “Allison probably called him up and yelled at him.”

I was sorry I missed that.

I’ll have to have him for dinner on Father’s Day.  I can be subtle and ask how many people are coming. 

My friend Emily says my family is like something out of Edith Wharton.  Fortunately, she meant The Age of Innocence rather than Ethan Frome.

Memories Monday -- Reflective Discussion with the Girls, Mrs. Fields, and Ben and Jerry

As everybody probably said at the obsequies, it was a beautiful day for the funeral.  I didn’t go, but I said a prayer for Margaret.  Of course, by now she is well established in heaven; she’s probably had tea with Barbara Pym and Agatha Christie.  I guess she said hi to Jesus, too.

Karen, Nikki and I got together at Nikki’s house for girls’ night in (after we’d gotten dinner for the troops at home; you know how it is).  They wanted to hear all the details.  After the second glass of wine, we started talking about heaven.  We decided that:

1.        You got to know anything you wanted. We all decided we wanted to know the truth about the Kennedy assassination.  I said I wanted to know if Elizabeth the First was really a virgin and they said I was naïve.

2.       You can eat anything you want and not get fat.  If you are fat when you die, you will become your perfect weight.

3.       You can meet famous people and they will be gracious. You may even become friends with them.  Nikki, who is not religious, said that some people, like Elvis, wouldn’t have time.  I explained that should we be there ten thousand years there would be no less days to schmooze than when we’d first begun.  I’m the only church goer (or, as Nikki says, church lady) among us.  Karen is spiritual, but not religious.

4.       You can drink and abuse drugs, but it won’t hurt you.

5.       We didn’t get to discussing sex in heaven until the third glass.  And since I’m a church lady, I’m too embarrassed to tell you what was said.

Dear Reader:  What are your ideas about heaven? And what do you think of ours?
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