shouldn't feel like you owe her. Maybe you can get her to take some
college courses?" I really couldn't imagine Kristina going to school and
taking it seriously, but maybe I hadn't seen that side of her.
"I know, but I'm
a little afraid." He hung his head and rubbed his hands together.
Aunt Claire walked in
the kitchen at this precise moment.
"What are you
afraid of, Gary?" she asked.
"Nothing,
really. I was just talking to Ed about Kris," he said.
"Kris? What
about her? Isn't she the beautifullest, most stupenderific granddaughter,
ever?" She looked at us as if challenging us to disagree.
"Yes, Mom, she's
the best, but I think she needs to get a job."
"Sure, sure.
There's time for that. Give her time. Remember you boys weren't all that great
at life and relationships when you first started out either. And you had my
fine influence all the time you were growing up!"
Claire had a point
there although she didn't know half of it. Gary and I made messes out of our
first marriages. The shame of it was that we never tried very hard to save
either of them and were swept up into the relationships without considering our
partners' feelings or needs. We just went along with the course of our life
without thinking. And we both paid dearly.
My toast and wishes
for Pam and Gary at their wedding turned out to be horribly ironic. Almost from
the beginning of my marriage to Ally, something went wrong. At first, we were
busy with the decorating and refinishing of our new home. We did little else in
our spare time. Both of us settled into comfortable positions at Pioneer High
School. I taught creative writing and elective literature courses that I designed
myself. Allison taught history and became an advisor for several service clubs
bringing her into contact with the socially prominent Rotary and Kiwanis Clubs
in Ann Arbor.
When the house was
finished, Allison began throwing elaborate dinner parties. At first, the guests
consisted of her parents and some of their friends and their children who were
our age. I didn't enjoy these events, but Allison thrived on making four course
dinners and showing off her china, crystal, and gleaming house. She began
scouring the antique markets and making rather substantial purchases for our
home. She insisted that all of the pieces come from the same era as our house.
Soon our dwelling began to look like a museum for antique American furniture
and design.
When she had the
house exactly the way she wanted, she began working on me. I'd rather she kept
piling up our debts while purchasing furniture. When she looked at me, I could
tell she felt differently about our relationship. Our sex life, at first,
didn't suffer, but the more she harped on my shortcomings, the less I wanted
her sexually.
"I don't
understand why you won't apply for the position of vice principal," she said
one Saturday morning over bagels and coffee. This position suddenly became
available at PHS when the current vice principal was fired.
"I'm happy where
I am," I said, not for the first time.
"But the money,
Ed. It would mean $5,000 more a year."
"I'm not
interested. If I took that job, I'd never get my novel done."
" Your novel !
You're never going to go anywhere with that."
"Ally, I don't
want to talk about it anymore."
In recent months, she
taken to ridiculing the one thing that kept me alive, my writing. No longer did
she care what I wrote.
"Sure, you don't
want to talk about it anymore. You just want everything handed to you without
working for it. You enjoy this home I've made for us, but what did you ever do
to deserve it? You didn't have any problem letting my parents buy it for us. Do
you expect them to continue footing the bill?
"This
conversation is over, Ally. Why don't you apply for the position? You need
something to do during the summer."
"I might do
that, if you could handle your wife earning more than you."
"Allison, money
means nothing to me. You should know that by now."
"If it means so
little, then
college courses?" I really couldn't imagine Kristina going to school and
taking it seriously, but maybe I hadn't seen that side of her.
"I know, but I'm
a little afraid." He hung his head and rubbed his hands together.
Aunt Claire walked in
the kitchen at this precise moment.
"What are you
afraid of, Gary?" she asked.
"Nothing,
really. I was just talking to Ed about Kris," he said.
"Kris? What
about her? Isn't she the beautifullest, most stupenderific granddaughter,
ever?" She looked at us as if challenging us to disagree.
"Yes, Mom, she's
the best, but I think she needs to get a job."
"Sure, sure.
There's time for that. Give her time. Remember you boys weren't all that great
at life and relationships when you first started out either. And you had my
fine influence all the time you were growing up!"
Claire had a point
there although she didn't know half of it. Gary and I made messes out of our
first marriages. The shame of it was that we never tried very hard to save
either of them and were swept up into the relationships without considering our
partners' feelings or needs. We just went along with the course of our life
without thinking. And we both paid dearly.
My toast and wishes
for Pam and Gary at their wedding turned out to be horribly ironic. Almost from
the beginning of my marriage to Ally, something went wrong. At first, we were
busy with the decorating and refinishing of our new home. We did little else in
our spare time. Both of us settled into comfortable positions at Pioneer High
School. I taught creative writing and elective literature courses that I designed
myself. Allison taught history and became an advisor for several service clubs
bringing her into contact with the socially prominent Rotary and Kiwanis Clubs
in Ann Arbor.
When the house was
finished, Allison began throwing elaborate dinner parties. At first, the guests
consisted of her parents and some of their friends and their children who were
our age. I didn't enjoy these events, but Allison thrived on making four course
dinners and showing off her china, crystal, and gleaming house. She began
scouring the antique markets and making rather substantial purchases for our
home. She insisted that all of the pieces come from the same era as our house.
Soon our dwelling began to look like a museum for antique American furniture
and design.
When she had the
house exactly the way she wanted, she began working on me. I'd rather she kept
piling up our debts while purchasing furniture. When she looked at me, I could
tell she felt differently about our relationship. Our sex life, at first,
didn't suffer, but the more she harped on my shortcomings, the less I wanted
her sexually.
"I don't
understand why you won't apply for the position of vice principal," she said
one Saturday morning over bagels and coffee. This position suddenly became
available at PHS when the current vice principal was fired.
"I'm happy where
I am," I said, not for the first time.
"But the money,
Ed. It would mean $5,000 more a year."
"I'm not
interested. If I took that job, I'd never get my novel done."
" Your novel !
You're never going to go anywhere with that."
"Ally, I don't
want to talk about it anymore."
In recent months, she
taken to ridiculing the one thing that kept me alive, my writing. No longer did
she care what I wrote.
"Sure, you don't
want to talk about it anymore. You just want everything handed to you without
working for it. You enjoy this home I've made for us, but what did you ever do
to deserve it? You didn't have any problem letting my parents buy it for us. Do
you expect them to continue footing the bill?
"This
conversation is over, Ally. Why don't you apply for the position? You need
something to do during the summer."
"I might do
that, if you could handle your wife earning more than you."
"Allison, money
means nothing to me. You should know that by now."
"If it means so
little, then
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