Marriage Matters

Twelve

“Hello, hello,” June chirped, throwing open the door. “So happy you both could make it!”

Kristine exchanged an amused glance with Chloe. June said this every Thursday, as if spending the evening together was optional. June had started the tradition when Chloe started college and the three had spent Thursdays together ever since.

Typically, they did something tame but on occasion, June liked to shake things up. She’d signed them up for bungee jumping, belly dancing and stand-up comedy. Once, they’d even stalked Oprah’s penthouse. Kristine wouldn’t be surprised if she said, “Come on, girls! We’re getting matching tattoos.”

Tonight looked like an art night, as the table in the dining room was piled high with scrapbook pages, family photos and stickers. Chloe rushed past it and toward the antique hutch stocked with snacks. Shoving a handful of chocolate-covered peanuts into her mouth, she said, “The best part about Thursdays is the snacks. I should probably go on a date with a dentist, not a psychologist.”

June’s eyes widened. “Date? Did you say date?”

Chloe popped a piece of sea salt caramel in her mouth. Then she pointed at her lips as though to indicate they were too busy chewing to say another word.

Kristine laughed. “She loves to torture us. Don’t worry, Mom. You’ll get it out of her.”

June slid on a pair of reading glasses with pink frames, exactly like the ones Kristine had picked up at Walgreens two days ago. Great. She was turning into her mother. That should help her relationship with Kevin.

“Hundreds of years ago,” June read from the notebook where she stored her research for their Thursday nights, “Englanders invented Commonbooks to record their memories. They’d decorate a page with letters, pictures or whatever to call to mind a particular moment in time. Tonight, we will create a page to represent our lives, using these . . . thingamajigs to do it.” She waved her hand at the table. “Who knows?” June shut her notebook and beamed. “Maybe, with time, we’ll keep adding to our book and our story.”

Kristine sifted through some of the pictures June had set out. There were a couple of cute ones, especially of Chloe when she was little. And a few with Kevin, that just made her feel sad.

“So.” June reached for a pink scrapbook page. “Chloe, tell me about my future grandson-in-law.”

“It’s just a date, Grandma.” Chloe groaned. “There’s nothing to tell. Besides, it’s not going to work out.” She crumpled a napkin and grinned. “I called him an a*shole when we first met.”

“And he still asked you out?” June eyed her from over the frames of her glasses. “It sounds like . . . what’s his name?”

“Geoff,” Chloe said. “With a G.”

“Geoff with a G is clearly in love with you already.” June applied glue to a pink felt flower and pressed it onto her page. “I predict marriage and children by the end of the year. You did catch that bouquet.”

“So did you,” Chloe pointed out. “And Mom.”

Kristine shook her head. She didn’t like to think about the bouquet. Even though June had insisted that she save a handful of baby’s breath and keep it for good luck, the whole thing made her uncomfortable. If another marriage was supposed to be on the horizon, what did that say about her and Kevin?

When Kristine didn’t say anything, Chloe turned her attention to the window. “Grandma, your neighbor’s outside. Working away.”

“La di dah.” June made a face. “I’ve been thinking I should call the police and report him.”

“Why would you report him?” Chloe asked. “Are his sunflowers back?”

Kristine laughed. “I forgot about that.”

Last summer, Charley’s sunflowers had grown in so strong and so tall that they shaded a twenty-five percent area of June’s garden. Yes, June was certain of this figure. She measured it.

“Laugh all you want.” June sprinkled some pink glitter across her page. “But I think it’s important for you to know that if anything happens to me, it’s because I’ve finally confronted that terrible man.”

“You told him off?” Chloe asked, taking a seat at the table. “Maybe he’ll ask you out.”

June’s hand froze midair. “I simply cannot think of anything worse.”

“Midterms,” Chloe said as Kristine blurted out, “Inventory audits.”

June thought for a moment. “Menopause.”

The three of them reflected on this.

“Oh!” Chloe pointed at Kristine. “Mom. When were you going to tell us your big news?”

Kristine fidgeted. “Big news?”

“Uh, Rome?” Turning to June, Chloe said, “She won a trip. Can you believe I had to learn this from Dad?”

Kristine gave a nervous laugh and explained about the essay contest. She focused on her art project as she talked, placing travel stickers in a neat pattern on her page, wondering how long it would take for—

“I assume Kevin will be joining you?” June asked.

Ten seconds. Not bad.

“Um . . .” Kristine reached for an outdated copy of National Geographic and started flipping through the pages. “He’s thinking about it.”

June blinked. “You’re going alone?”

“With an employee.” Kristine tried to keep her voice casual, already knowing that her mother would not approve. “Ethan wrote the winning essay, so . . .”

June peered at Kristine. “You’re traveling with a man?”

Getting up from the table, Kristine walked over to the snack table. Reaching for a brownie, she said, “I’d like Kevin to come. He might. He’s thinking about it.”

“Dad hates to travel,” Chloe said. “Almost as much as Grandma.”

“I do not hate to travel,” June said. “I just prefer to stay in Chicago. Everything I need is at my front door.”

There was a loud crash outside and everyone jumped. Charley was standing next to the fence, dumping yard waste into a trash bin. Seeing an opportunity to change the subject, Kristine said, “You didn’t tell us why you want to report Charley to the police.”

After a long moment, June turned her attention to the window. “I don’t know. I just don’t trust him,” she said. “If I end up missing, he’s buried my body in the garden.”

“Well,” Chloe said, “you always say he doesn’t know how to buy a decent fertilizer.”

Kristine laughed. “I wish you liked him. He seems like such a nice man.”

“Exactly,” June said. “They always seem nice. Until.”

“Maybe you just need to be a better neighbor,” Chloe said. “Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

June bristled. “I am a lovely neighbor. I raise the value of our neighborhood just by . . . just by staying alive.”

“You’re a lovely neighbor?” Kristine said. “Oh, okay. Have you . . . shoveled his snow?”

“Raked his leaves?” Chloe asked. “Baked him some cookies?”

The two of them cracked up. Chloe laughed so hard she pounded the table. The colorful little decorations June had so carefully collected jumped like jumping beans.

June pressed her lips together tightly. “I hope that one of these days,” she said, “I’ll have a family that takes me seriously.”

Chloe squeezed her hand. “If I were you, Grandma, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”