My mom texts that she is on her way to pick me up, and I head to the fridge and pack up the food I prepped last night. There is curried chicken salad with grapes and walnuts, and small homemade rolls to make sandwiches, along with some pickled onions to perk up the combination. Israeli couscous salad with cucumber, tomato, feta, kalamata olives, parsley, and mint. A bag of chips, a batch of Glenn’s favorite brownies, and a small bag of tiny clementines. I toss Simca a bully stick and get into my parka, since in true Chicago fashion, despite the brittle and bright sunshine, it is about four degrees out there. My mom honks, and I head out with the cooler bag.
“You should talk to Glenn about Shawn,” she says when I mention Lynne’s grits comment.
“Why?”
“Because no one knows more than he does about interracial relationships. If what Lynne said bothered you enough to tell me about it, you might want to unpack that for yourself. After all, you haven’t met his family yet; he might have some words of wisdom on that. I know it’s coming up and you want it to go well. And you said yourself that the few of his friends you’ve met so far have mostly been white. Maybe it is something of an issue, even a subconscious one, and it is just not on the front burner yet. Maybe it will never be an issue. Wouldn’t hurt to be a little bit prepared, just in case not everyone in the world is going to accept you happily.”
“Hadn’t thought about that. Maybe, if it comes up organically. I also don’t want to spend Valentine’s lunch with Glenn waxing on about my new love when it is his first one without Helene.”
“He’s thrilled for you.”
“Oh, is he?”
“He and I talk about you all the time, and he’s delighted to know that you have found someone you like, and wants to meet him. You’ll see, he’ll bring it up way before you do.”
Sigh. I suppose I can’t begrudge her talking to Glenn about me. After all, besides dead spouses, I’m the other thing they have in common.
We pull up in front of Glenn’s house, and I get the cooler bag out of the trunk.
“Now, this is every man’s dream! Two beautiful women bringing him delicious food and good company.” He comes out of the house to carry the bag for me, giving us each a kiss on the cheek. We head into the kitchen, and I start getting out serving platters and bowls for the food. Easy to do since I helped Glenn reorganize his kitchen to make better sense for him, so I know where everything is. Glenn has already set the table, and he and my mom set about pouring water and iced tea, all the while chatting easily. I set all the food up as a buffet on the kitchen island and call them in.
“Now, this is a true feast!” Glenn says. “Thank you, my dear, for all the hard work. You could have just picked up some sandwiches.”
“And still sleep at night? Never! It goes against everything I stand for,” I say in mock seriousness as we all fill our plates and head to the table.
“To two of the finest women I have ever known, thank you for coming to keep me company.” Glenn raises his iced tea glass to us, and we all toast.
“How are you doing today?” my mom asks him, taking a small bite of the couscous salad.
“Pretty well, all things considered. I’m lucky—Helene never really liked Valentine’s Day that much, always said that we didn’t need the chocolate companies to tell us when and how to be romantic, so it wasn’t something that we really celebrated. Sometimes we would get each other a card, the more over-the-top and sappy the better, but there were a lot of years we would sort of ignore it completely.”
“That’s good,” I say.
“Indeed,” my mom says. “Eloise’s dad was a sucker for Valentine’s Day, he would go all out. The first couple without him were really hard.”
“I bet. I suppose it is all just a series of tests, the holidays and birthdays, the little moments that remind us of who’s missing,” Glenn says. “We’re lucky to have friends and family around us to help us get through.”
“How is your family?” I ask, remembering their good intentions and annoying results around the funeral.
“My family is fine. Fairly absent, to be honest. They are all really good at rallying around in the moment of crisis, but once they go back to their regular lives, they sort of disappear. To be fair, I’m not really disappointed—there is only so much time you want to spend with people who think you are broken.”
“Oh, Lord, the head tilters!” my mom says. “For months and months, everyone you meet tilts their head to one side and furrows their brows and asks full of concern how you are holding up. The worst!”
“Exactly!” Glenn says. “My family is all those people. Every conversation is about reminding you how awful and sad you are supposed to be. God forbid you are having a fairly good day.”
“Right! It’s like, maybe ask me what I’m doing or how my work is going, what I’ve been reading or watching on TV or if I have any travel plans coming up. I’ve got plenty of times when the blues get me, no need to elicit them specifically.” My mom laughs.
“Well, I’m a luckier man than most, for whatever failings my well-meaning family has in that area, Helene’s family makes up for it. Her brothers keep taking me to sporting events and action flicks and to hear music, the women keep sending food and inviting me to dinners, and everyone is just utterly normal with me. They tell some of the old Helene stories, but nothing is ever morose or wallowing.”
“It’s wonderful that her family is so welcoming of you. Was it always that way?” My mom is opening a door on my behalf and it feels ham-handed and obvious, and I can feel the blush start.
Glenn chews a bite of his sandwich thoughtfully. “Pretty much. Don’t forget, it was the seventies when Helene and I got together, and she was the baby of the family—her siblings had already brought home something of a United Nations of boyfriends and girlfriends. Helene’s previous boyfriend had been black, and something of a tool, so I think they were just relieved that I was a nice guy and treated her with kindness and respect. Plus, this is Chicago. The most important thing is that I was also a South Sider and a Sox fan!”
We laugh, since in this town, neighborhood and team affiliation often do trump other factors when it comes to community bonding.
“I assume you are trepidatious about meeting Shawn’s family?” Glenn says. “I hope you don’t mind, your mother has been sharing some of your joy with me. I’m enormously delighted for you.”
“Yeah, she mentioned that she told you. And yes, Shawn’s folks are coming back from their winter place at the end of March and we are going to do a dinner with his parents to meet. Then I’m spending Easter with them to meet the rest of the extended family.”
“Nerve-wracking under the best of circumstances, but potentially made more awkward by cultural differences?” He nods at me sympathetically.
“Something like that. Also, I have no practice in any of it. I met the parents of a couple of boyfriends in high school and college, but to be honest, Shawn is only the second real relationship of my adult life.”