Page 20 of Two by Two

"I'm sure she does. But Joanne beat her to punch."

"Do I know Joanne?"

"From the Red Hat Society. You probably saw her when you picked up London at lunch that day."

"Was she the one wearing the red hat? And the purple blouse?"

"Ha, ha."

"How are those fine red-hatted ladies doing?"

"They're wonderful, and we have so much fun together. Last week after lunch, a few of us went to a lecture at the college given by an astronomer. Did you know that they've recently discovered an earth-sized planet that orbits another sun? And that the planet is the same distance from the sun as Earth? Which means there could actually be life on that planet."

"I didn't know that."

"We talked about it at our next meeting."

"Because you want to be the first group to welcome the aliens with red hats if they ever visit?"

"Why are you teasing me? It's not nice."

I chuckled. "I'm sorry, Mom. I couldn't resist."

She shook her head. "I don't know where you got the idea that teasing mothers is a good thing. You certainly didn't learn it from me."

"That's true," I said. I motioned to the onion sitting beside the chopping block. "Do you need me to help with that?"

"You're volunteering in the kitchen?"

"I've been doing quite a bit of cooking lately."

"SpaghettiOs from a can?"

"Now who's teasing who?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Just trying to keep up with my children. But no, I don't need any help. Thank you, though. Is your father watching the game, or is he still in the garage?"

In the family room, I saw the flicker of the television screen.

"The game," I answered.

"I had a dream about him a couple of days ago. Or at least, I think it was about him. It was one of those dreams where everything was foggy, so I couldn't see very well. But he was in the hospital with the cancer."

"Hmmm."

"Anyway, there were all these beeping machines around him and Judge Judy was on the television. The doctor was from India I think, and there was a giant stuffed animal on the bed beside your dad. A big, purple pig."

"Hmmm," I said again.

"What do you think it means? The purple pig, I mean?"

"I really couldn't tell you."

"Did you know my grandmother was psychic? She used to have premonitions, too."

"I thought you said it was a dream."

"The point is that I'm worried about him."

"I know you are. But the doctor said he was fine. He hasn't been short of breath again, has he?"

"Not that I've noticed. And if he has, I'm sure he wouldn't tell me."

"I'll ask him, okay?"

"Thank you," she said. "Where are Vivian and London?"

"They're grabbing some last-minute school supplies. They should be here pretty soon. London's first day is Tuesday, by the way. I don't know if you'd like to come, but you're welcome to."

"Your dad and I will both be there," she said. "It's a big day for her."

"It is," I admitted.

My mom smiled. "I can remember your first day of school. You were so excited but after I walked you to the classroom, I remember going back to my car and crying."

"Why were you crying?"

"Because it meant you were growing up. And you were so different than Marge. You were always so much more sensitive than she was. I worried about you."

I wasn't sure I was happy about being described as more sensitive than my sister but I suspected my mom probably wasn't entirely wrong about this.

"It turned out okay. You know I always liked school. I just hope London will, too. We went to the open house and she met her teacher. That seemed to go okay."

"She'll be fine. She's smart and mature and really sweet. Of course, I'm biased."

"That's a good thing."

"I'm just glad that you're not angry with me."

"Why would I be angry with you?"

"Because I wasn't able to watch London whenever you needed it."

"You were right," I said. "It wasn't your responsibility. But let's just say I developed a whole new level of respect for single mothers."

"It's been good for London, too. She's changed a lot this summer."

"You think so?"

"Of course she has. You're just too close to see it."

"How has she changed?"

"The way she talks about you, for starters. And how much she talks about you."

"She talks about me?"

"Lately, she talks about you all the time. It's, 'Me and Daddy went bike riding,' or 'Daddy played Barbies with me,' or 'Daddy took me to the park.' She never used to do that."

"That's pretty much been my life these days."

"It's been good for you, too. I've always thought that your dad could have benefited from knowing how the other half lives."

"But then he wouldn't be the big, gruff guy that Marge and I came to fear."

"Hush," she says. "You know he loves you both."

"I know," I said. "As long as I don't talk to him too much while the ball game's on. Of course, Marge and London can talk the whole time and there's no problem."

"That's because Marge knows the game better than you do, and London will get up from his lap and bring him a beer. Why don't you try that?"

"I'm too big to sit in his lap."

"You're such a comedian today. There are a couple of beers in the fridge. Why don't you grab two, and see what happens. He likes visiting with you."

"I know exactly what's going to happen."

"Oh, don't let him scare you. Just remember--he can sense your fear."

I laughed as I walked to the fridge, certain that I had the best mom in the world.

"How are you, Dad?"

I held an open bottle of beer toward him. "For you," I said. Fortunately, I'd timed it perfectly with a commercial, which he'd already muted.

"What are you doing?"

"I brought you a beer."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I thought you might want one?"

"You're not going to ask if you can borrow some money, are you?"

"No."

"Good. Because the answer's no. It's not my fault you quit your job."

My father, the King of Blunt. I took a seat on the couch beside him.

"How's the game going?'

"Braves are losing."

I brought my hands together, wondering what to say next. "How are things, Dad? Plumbing business going okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

I don't know, I thought. Because you make me nervous sometimes? I took a drink of my beer. "I told you I landed my first client, right?"

"Yep. The attorney. Italian guy."

"I'll be filming a couple of commercials next week. I also have to meet with some child actors, so I can film a third commercial, too."

"I don't like lawyer commercials."

"You don't like any commercials, Dad," I said. "That's why you mute them."

He nodded in agreement while the silence grew between us, the only sound my mother's humming from the kitchen. He scratched at a corner of the label from the bottle, figuring it was probably polite to ask a question. "How's Vivian?"

"She's doing well," I said.

"Good," he said. At that point, the game came back on and my dad reached for the remote control. The mute went off and a peek at the box score showed that the Braves were down by three runs with four innings left to go.

"We should head to a Braves game one day. You and I."

He scowled at me. "Are you gonna keep talking all day, or will you let me enjoy the game in peace?"

"I think you've scared him, Dad," Marge said, collapsing on the couch beside my dad. She and Liz had returned from their walk.

"What are you talking about?"

Marge pointed toward me. "He's perched over there like he's afraid to move a muscle."

My dad shrugged. "He was talking and talking, like one of them windup

dolls."

"He'll do that," Marge agreed. She nodded toward the set. "What's the score?"

"Four to four now, bottom of the eighth. Braves are coming back."

"Have they brought in their relief pitcher?"

"In the seventh inning."

"Who is it?"

My dad mentioned a name I didn't recognize. "That's a good choice," Marge noted. "I really like his slider but his changeup is good, too. How's he doing so far?"

"Lot of pitches. He's having to work it."

"Do you remember the days when we had Maddux, Smoltz, and Glavine?"

"Who doesn't? That was one of the best rotations ever, but this year..."

"Yeah, I know. Down year. But at least they're not the Cubs."

"Can you imagine? Over a hundred years since they've won it all. Makes the Curse of the Bambino seem ridiculous, especially considering the last few years."

"Who do you think will win it all?"

"I don't care, as long as it's not the Yankees."

"I'm thinking the Mets might pull it off."

"As good a guess as any," he agreed. "They're playing good ball. Royals, too, and they've got some serious offense this year."

As he answered, Marge sent a lazy wink in my direction.

Eventually, Marge and I joined Liz on the back porch. From the living room, sounds of the game drifted outside.

"I was never a baseball fan," I said to my sister. "I ran track in high school."

"And now you're jogging with the mamas. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you let your raw athleticism go to seed."

I turned toward Liz. "Does she talk to you like this?"

"No," Liz answered. "If she does, she knows I won't feed her. Besides, you're an easy target."

"I was just trying to say that I don't think Dad would have wanted to talk to me, even if I did know as much about baseball as you do."

"Don't feel bad about it," Marge shrugged. "You might not know baseball, but I'm sure Dad can't name every Barbie accessory either, so you've got that going for you."

"That makes me feel so much better."

"Oh, don't be so thin-skinned. Dad won't talk to me when he's in the garage. That's your place, not mine."

"Really?"

"Why do you think I bothered learning anything about the Braves? He probably wouldn't talk to me at all unless he was asking me to pass the mashed potatoes while we were eating."

"Do you think that he and Mom talk the way they used to?"

"After almost fifty years? I doubt it. There's probably not much left to talk about. But hey--it clearly works for them."

"Daddy!" I heard from the kitchen, and I saw London was skipping in my direction. She was wearing a dress that could have been worn on the red carpet and holding a soft lunch box emblazoned with an image of Barbie. Another item to add to my vast knowledge of Barbie accessories, Marge was no doubt thinking. "Look what I got!" London said, raising it for me to see. "It fits into my Barbie backpack, too!"

"That's great, sweetheart. It's really pretty."

She hugged the three of us while we all took turns admiring her lunch box.

"Are you excited about school?" Marge asked.

London nodded. "I start Tuesday."

"I know," Marge said. "Your dad told me. He said that you met your teacher, too."

"Her name is Mrs. Brinson," London said. "She's really nice. She said that I might be able to bring Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles to show-and-tell."

"That would be great," Marge said. "I'm sure the other kids will love them. Where are they now? Did you bring them?"

"No. They're at home. Mommy said it was too hot to leave them in the car while we were shopping."

"She's probably right. It's pretty hot today."

"Are you hungry?" I asked London.

"Mommy and I had lunch not too long ago."

So that's where you were. "Did you see Nana in the kitchen?"

"She says we're going to make pudding-in-a-cloud in a couple of minutes. It's a snack, though, so it won't ruin my dinner. And then we're going to plant some flowers."

"That sounds fun. How about Papa?"

"I sat in his lap for a little while. His whiskers were itchy when he kissed me. He liked my lunch box, too."

"I'll bet he did. Did you watch the game with him?"

"Not really. We talked about Mr. and Mrs. Sprinkles and he told me that he missed them. And then we talked about school and my bike, and he said he wanted to watch me ride it sometime. Then he told me that when he was little, he used to ride his bike all the time. Once, he said he rode it all the way to Lake Norman and back."

"That's a long way," I said, not doubting it for a minute. It sounded like something my dad would have done. Just then, Vivian emerged from the house.

I stood and gave my wife a kiss; Marge and Liz offered hugs before taking their seats again. Vivian sat down, too.

Vivian straightened London's dress. "I think Nana's waiting for your help in the kitchen, sweetie."

"Okay," London said, scampering off and vanishing inside. When the door closed behind her, I turned toward Vivian, aware that I was still bothered about her separate bank account, but it wasn't the time or place to let her know how I felt. I forced myself to smile and pretend nothing was wrong at all.

"How did it go today?"

"You wouldn't believe what a pain it was." Vivian sighed. "It took forever to find the right backpack. They were sold out almost everywhere, but we finally got lucky at the last place we went. It goes without saying that the stores were packed. It was like everyone in Charlotte had the same idea and waited until the last minute to grab school supplies. Which meant, of course, that I had to get London a bite to eat because she was starving by the time we finally finished."

"Shopping isn't for the faint of heart," Marge observed.

"At least it's done," Vivian said. She turned from Marge to Liz, focusing somewhere in between them. "How are things going with you two? Any trips planned?"

Marge and Liz both enjoyed traveling; in the years they'd been together, they'd visited over fifteen different countries.

"Next weekend, we're going to Houston to see my parents," Liz answered. "In October, we're off to Costa Rica. Right after London's birthday."

"Wow... What's in Costa Rica?"

"It's more of an adventure trip. Zip-lines, rafting, hiking through the cloud forest, and we'll see the Arenal volcano."

"Sounds like fun."

"I hope so. And then in early December, we'll be going to New York City. There are some shows we want to see, and I hear the 9/11 Memorial Museum is really moving."

"I love New York around the holidays. I never thought I'd miss it when I left, but every now and then, I find myself wondering why I ever left in the first place."

We left because we were getting married. I didn't say that, but Liz--being Liz--probably sensed my agitation and like me, wanted to keep things cordial. "There's no other city quite like it, is there?" she said. "We always enjoy our trips there."

"If you need help getting dinner reservations anywhere, let me know. I can call my old boss and I'm sure he can pull some strings."

"Thank you. We'll keep that in mind. How's the office move to Atlanta going?"

"It's going. For whatever reason, I've been put in charge of the logistics, and it's been a lot more work than I imagined. I have to be in Atlanta for a couple of days at the end of the week."

"But you'll be at school on London's first day?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

"I'm sure that will make London very happy. Is there an official move-in date yet? For Atlanta, I mean?"

"Sometime in mid-September, I'm guessing. It's really going to be an incredible office. It's right on Peachtree, with amazing views. And Walter has been setting up some of the executives with temporary corporate apartments, so that's made things a little easier, too."

"Will you be using one of the apartments?"

"I suppose it depends on how much t

ime I'll actually have to spend there."

It depends?

Before I could figure out what that meant, Liz went on. "But you'll be able to mainly work out of Charlotte, right?"

"That's the hope, but who knows for sure? This week, I'm in Atlanta three days, but Walter is toying with the idea of eventually running for governor. Not next year, but in 2020. But between his real-estate developments and his PAC and now this, don't be shocked if I have to be there four days a week."

"That's a lot of nights in a hotel."

"If I'm there that much, I'd probably take Walter up on his offer for a corporate apartment."

"Seriously?" I finally interjected, unable to help myself.

"What can I tell you? Liz is right about hotel living."

"I'd rather you not have an apartment in Atlanta," I said, wondering why I was just finding out about this now, instead of in private.

"I know you don't," she said. "Do you think I want that?"

I didn't respond, because I wasn't quite sure I knew the answer.

"Why would he want to be governor?" Marge asked, interrupting my thoughts. "He already has all the money and power he needs."

"Why not? He's been successful in everything he's done. He'd probably be a great governor."

Even as Vivian was talking, I was still thinking about the bank account and the apartment. Marge probably was, too, based on her expression. Liz, meanwhile, was a master at keeping conversations on neutral ground. "It sounds to me like he'll be keeping you very busy over the next few years," Liz said.

"I'm busy all day, every day already."

"And you enjoy it," Liz said.

"I do. I really missed working, and it's an exciting place to work. I feel like I'm finally getting back to being the real me, if that makes any sense."

"It makes all the sense in the world," Liz agreed. "I tell my clients that meaningful work is essential for good mental health."

"Being a stay-at-home mom is meaningful, too," I pointed out.

"No question about it," Liz said. "I think everyone would agree with the idea that staying at home to raise a child is meaningful and important." Then, to Vivian: "Has it been hard being apart from London?"

"I know she misses me," Vivian answered. "But I think it's important that she sees me working outside the home. The last thing I want is for her to think that women should aspire to being barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen as a life's goal."

"When were you ever barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?" I interjected.

"It's a figure of speech, Russ," she said. "You know what I mean. And frankly, it's been good for Russ, too. I think he has a lot more respect for what my life was like for five years."

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