A visit from the stuntman
It's a Turner Classic kinda love
Hey hun,
I’ve been a hometown tourist for the first time since my mother-in-law visited us as newlyweds. At the time I still believed that by being the perfect host I could win her over and prove I was good enough for her darling boy. It was years before I realized that accepting me would only take all of the fun out of it for her. But in the last few years of her life, we came to some kind of odd understanding. When she kicked it, she left your Granddad everything, except for an envelope with my name scrawled across it. Inside was a battered old knife.
I think the lawyer assumed that it was some kind of threat from beyond the grave, but I got the message loud and clear: It was a ceremonial rite of passage. I’m sure it made her smile to think of me picking up her mantle and torturing my future children in-law, and it makes me smile to think of how she’d stomp her feet to see that her gift has sat forgotten in the junk drawer. Although, I will say it’s very handy for prying open oysters.
I can say it now that she and your Granddad are gone: that woman was fuckin’ nuts.
Anyway, like I said, Eve and I have been tearing up the town, visiting the museum in the city, checking out the local flea market, and going to the beach. I’m not exactly a beachgoer. There’s just so much crap you have to bring with you that you start to realize why humans don’t live on the sand. But Eve kept saying, “Oh, we have to get a tan.”
For what? Let me tell you something, we’re two old ladies – nobody’s looking at us whether we look like pale little slugs or beef jerky. But anyway, Eve is pleased with her second degree burns and I am now the proud owner of sock tan lines. Despite all my kvetching, it’s actually been quite lovely and we’ve ended most of our nights back on the porch, luxuriating in being too tired to do much of anything.
The other day, after we took ourselves to the local salon to get our hair done and the latest gossip (Cindy’s grandson knocked up his girlfriend (which was a real shock for his wife) and Shamus dropped dead in the supermarket – finally), we grabbed some lunch and Eve put down her fork and said, “This has been really fun. But I know I can’t do this forever. I have to figure out what’s next.”
It’s true, she can’t stay here forever. Vacations are temporary for a reason, unless you’re some kinda rich asshat. We talked a little about what her life could look like. Did she want to try living on her own? Or patch things up with Julian? Join a convent and sell goat cheese at farmers markets?
“Well, it was nice to visit the city,” she said, “but I don’t think I could live there. Things are just so different than they used to be! I mean, the people…”
“Are you talking about those lesbians again?” I asked. Eve had openly gaped at two women holding hands while walking down the street. I guess they don’t have a Smith College in Maine.
“Well, yes, and other things too. But, is that kind of a new thing?” She whispered over her egg salad.
“I hardly think so. Haven’t you ever heard of a Boston marriage?”
“Hmm,” she said, looking out the window and tearing a napkin into shreds, “What do they do? You know what I mean?”
“I can connect the dots,” I said, “Well, what do you do with Julian?”
Her head swiveled around and she sputtered, “Well, I…that’s very private.”
I redirected the conversation back to the real topic at hand, which was what the heck Eve was going to do next.
“I just don’t see the point in trying to do anything without Julian. I gave it a go, and I don’t want to do it without him. I just think things need to be…different. But he might not even take me back.”
I offered to give Trevor a call and see if he can figure out if Julian would be open to talking. We had a standing phone call date later that evening, anyway.
UPDATE: Ok, ok, ok – I had started this email earlier and was going to send it today, but I just had the biggest surprise of my life. I had run out for a few groceries, leaving Eve behind to catch up on some of her soaps. When I came back, I saw a strange car in my driveway. Judging from the bumper sticker that read “I STOP FOR ROADKILL”, I knew it was Julian.
I damn near dropped my prunes. I was a little nervous opening the front door – what the hell was I walking into? But it was quiet and nothing was out of place, only a jacket draped on a chair. I put my bags down and looked around, until I saw two heads sitting close together out the back windows.
There they were, two long lost lovers, sitting if not lovingly at least civilly together on the lawn chairs. It looked like Eve didn’t need my help after all. I snuck back to the kitchen and put away the groceries, texted Eve to send up the bat signal if she needed me, and headed out for a long walk.
And I mean a long walk. I had made it all the way to town and had sat down at the diner when I got a text back from Eve.
“Sorry!!! Didn’t see this until now. Jules n I just talked forever. We’re all good!”
I called a cab (my little old knees were worn right out) and arrived to see the two of them sitting together on my couch, watching TV and…wait for it…holding hands!
Julian was very sorry about inviting himself over, but he was sick of not knowing what was going on, and getting messages through Trevor, so decided to come down and figure things out for himself. Eve finds this all very romantic and I’m beginning to suspect that it’s not so much Nicolas Cage she was chasing, as the idea of an action star swooping in to save her.
I’m not at all upset that he took things into his own hands, and I’m happy to host them for a while. They’re talking about going abroad to visit their son and his family. It seems like beyond the cost and distance of visiting, they’ve kept away because of their shared dislike of their daughter-in-law. But, I guess having a common enemy is one of the strongest bonds. Some things never change.
Well, I’ll keep you abreast of the latest, although I can’t promise more grand romantic gestures. Not that many people do their own stunts anymore.
Love,
Grams