“I did know how you felt about him. James told me one night when I couldn’t sleep, but, Marla, you didn’t really know him. Jack loved me. I know he did, and I loved him.”
“Okay, fine, I accept that you loved him. But, Lizzie, it’s been, like, seven years since he left. You’ve been married to George for almost five of those years. Give it up already. Literally, give up that bracelet.”
“Well, he can’t get in touch with me now since I became a Goldrosen,” Lizzie said. “Why did I ever let George convince me to change my name?”
Marla ignored what seemed irrelevant to her and focused on what was central to the discussion. “If he’d wanted to get in touch with you, he would have found a way. You know that.”
Lizzie did know. She just didn’t want to admit it either to Marla or herself.
“I still think that he was so freaked out about the Great Game he couldn’t stand being with me.”
“But you told me he said he was fine with it.”
“I don’t think I said that. Oh, he compared me to some girl in his high school who everyone would sleep with but no one would date. He apologized, sort of, but who knows if he meant it? And then he left for home so soon after that. God, I wish he’d never seen that article. I wish he’d only read the Paris Review and never picked up Psychology Today. I hate myself for what happened. And the Ouija board said so, do you remember?” Lizzie continued stubbornly. “It predicted that I’d marry a Jack M. And who else could that be but Jack? It’s definitely not a George G.”
“Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie, I cannot believe you’re quoting a Ouija board. You’re being ridiculous. Probably James pushed that thingy around to make you happy.”
“He said he didn’t. He promised.”
“Let it go, Lizzie.”
“If only I’d had different parents. Or if only Maverick and I hadn’t broken up. Or if I hadn’t known Andrea in high school. None of this would have happened the way it did.”
“Oh, Lizzie,” Marla said sadly. “George is right. You definitely do think too much.”
*?Dr. Sleep (2)?*
Before George met Lizzie, he’d considered himself a good sleeper. That is, he’d stay up until a decent hour, say eleven p.m., watch the news, floss, brush his teeth, get into bed, close his eyes, and lie awake for five minutes or so thinking (in the fall and winter) about how the Cowboys (Dallas and OSU) were doing. In the spring and summer he was usually so tired from the pickup basketball games he played that no sooner did he close his eyes than he was asleep. The ups and downs of real life didn’t cause him any trouble. That, however, was “BL”—before Lizzie showed up in his life.
George’s current ongoing sleep problems were due to two issues. The first was that Lizzie seemed incapable of having a Difficult Conversation between the hours of nine and five, or even early in the evening. Whatever else happened in their bed—be it good, bad, or indifferent—for too many years Lizzie lured George into having their most Difficult Conversations just as they were moving toward sleep. This was not pleasant for either of them, yet Lizzie seemed unable to alter her behavior. The second was that Lizzie’s insomnia was infectious. Sometimes George felt that Lizzie’s anxiety was radiating out into the atmosphere, so that it was impossible not to inhale some of it if you breathed at all. Once George got even a whiff of Lizzie’s agitation, he was a goner, and the two of them would get out of bed and sit in kitchen together, companionably drinking hot milk.
But whenever George fell asleep before Lizzie did or if she woke up in the middle of the night and heard George quietly snoring next to her, she’d toss and turn with great abandon and, when that didn’t work, she’d first kiss his back, then nudge him, not gently, and whisper, “Are you awake?” even when she knew he wasn’t. In response to his reluctant admission that, well, yes, he just happened to be awake, she’d say plaintively, “I can’t sleep. Will you play a game with me?”
Though he hated being woken up, George really enjoyed the word games they played, although it was a shame that the only time they played them was in the middle of the night. George was especially grateful that they didn’t have to get out of bed. He just wished Lizzie would be happy playing them during the day. Having George right there in bed with her broadened Lizzie’s scope of ways to trick herself into sleep. Sometimes they’d make up sentences out of five-or six-letter words. Thus “Marla” became “Maybe a rabbi left already” or “Many accountants remembered little addition” and “Elaine” was “Even Leon and Inez nodded eagerly.”
They often played $100,000 Pyramid, with the top prize being, of course, sleep.
George (host), speaking slowly and deliberately, with a longish pause between each name: George, Marla, James, Mendel, Lydia.
Lizzie (contestant): Thinking out loud, “Well, I thought I knew, but the last two make it impossible to be ‘People who Lizzie loves.’” Hmm.
George added: “Allan, Elaine.”
Lizzie unceremoniously gave up.
“Ha,” George said triumphantly. “It’s ‘People who love you.’ Now go to sleep.”
“I strongly object. Mendel and Lydia never loved me. You know that.”
“They did too. They just weren’t successful at showing you that they did. Now go to sleep,” he repeated.
Lizzie turned her pillow over to the cool side and tried to obey him, occasionally successfully.
*?The Defensive Ends?*
The two defensive ends were Richard “Dickhead” Dickman and Jeff “Stinky” Smelsey. Richard joined the Peace Corps, was sent to Liberia, and stayed on there to teach at the high school in Tubmanburg. He sometimes contributed articles about Liberia to the Ann Arbor News. Stinky Smelsey became a successful podiatrist in Laurel, Maryland. If there was nothing else having to do with the Great Game that made Lizzie laugh (and there wasn’t), the thought of the perfectly named Stinky Smelsey spending his days considering people’s feet could almost make her smile.
*?A Difficult Conversation?*
It was unusual for George to get home first, but one afternoon Lizzie found him there, waiting for her. “Let’s go out to dinner,” he said. This was also very unlike George, who felt that because of all their traveling they ate out way too much and he’d much rather stay home and relax.
They went to Yummy Café, the incongruously named Chinese restaurant down the street from their apartment. While they waited for their food, Lizzie told George about her day. “I felt like I was running behind all day, because Foucault insisted on seeking out a fire hydrant that he’d never made use of before, so I didn’t get to Billy & Sister’s until way late, which was why I was late getting home.”
“You weren’t really late. I came home at lunchtime to do some work and decided to cancel my afternoon appointments.”
This was unprecedented. George never canceled on his patients. He didn’t believe in it. Plus his tone of voice sounded slightly off to Lizzie.