Two by Two(39)

It took nearly five hours for a tow truck to arrive and pull me out.  Though I wasn't in danger-I'd brought a jacket, had half a tank of gas  and my heater was working-I kept thinking about the differences between  my dad and me.

While I blithely hoped for the best, my dad was the kind of guy who always expected and prepared for the worst.





August brought with it sweltering temperatures and high humidity broken  by the occasional afternoon thunderstorm, but the weeks leading up to  London's first day of school felt entirely different than the previous  weeks, if only because I was actually earning an income.

Despite being scheduled every single minute of the day, I felt less  stressed than I had since starting my business. I worked with the tech  guy for everything tech related, scouted locations and got the releases I  needed, talked with the head of the film and sound crews, picked up the  permits, talked to an agent at the local casting agency, signed a  contract for the billboards, and locked in a great deal for television  advertising. All that in addition to finalizing the rehearsal and  shooting schedule for the first two commercials and overseeing the  casting session for the third commercial, all of which would take place  the same week London began school.

Despite those things, I still got London to and from her activities,  went bike riding, received a million hugs and kisses, and even got her  piano and art classes rescheduled once school began. Tennis camp came to  an end right around the time we attended an open house at the school,  where London had a chance to meet her new teacher. There, she learned  that Bodhi would also be in her class, and I was able to visit with  Emily for a minute. Since her ex had been in town, her schedule had been  unpredictable and I hadn't seen her much since our playdate. I  introduced her to Vivian-my wife's demeanor could best be described as  distant, but with a warning-and understood that I better keep such  visits with Emily to a minimum or there were going to be problems.

Vivian spent two or three nights a week in Atlanta, and when at home,  she continued to blow warm and cool. That was better than the hot and  cold I'd been experiencing, but the excitement of the date night toward  the end of July wasn't repeated, and the endlessly shifting temperature  of my wife's moods left me both excited and nervous about seeing her  whenever the SUV pulled up in the drive.

If there was any other change to my routine during that period, it had  to do with exercise. The day after I'd really looked at myself in the  mirror, I took Marge's advice and on the first Monday of the month, I  set the alarm forty minutes earlier. I donned a pair of running shorts  and commenced a slow trudge through the neighborhood, one in which I was  passed by every jogging mother, two of whom were also pushing  strollers. Years ago, I'd been able to jog five or six miles and feel  refreshed when I finished: after a mile and a half on day one of my new  regime, I practically collapsed on the front porch rocker. It took me  more than an hour to feel like myself again. Nonetheless, I did it the  following morning, and the morning after that, a streak that hasn't been  broken. By the second week of August, I added push-ups and sit-ups to  my routine, and my pants became steadily looser as the month wore on.

London had improved enough on her bike to allow me to ride beside her,  and on the day after the open house at school, we traversed the  neighborhood together, even racing for an entire block. I let her win,  of course. After stowing our bikes back in the garage, I gave her a  high-five, and we ended up drinking lemonade on the back porch, hoping  to see another bald eagle while the sun began its descent.

But even though we didn't, I suspected I'd long remember that day, if only because it, too, was perfect in its own way.





"Don't you think she already has enough clothes for school?" I asked  Vivian. It was the Saturday before school was supposed to start, and  because Vivian had arrived home late from Atlanta the night before, we'd  agreed to put off date night until tonight.         

     



 

"I'm not getting clothes," Vivian said as she finished dressing in the  bathroom. She'd already been to yoga and the gym, and had showered; it  was one of those mornings of frantic activity for her. "I'm getting  school supplies. Backpack, pencils, erasers, and some other things. Did  you even check the school website?"

I hadn't. In all frankness, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind. I  had, however, received and paid the bill for the first semester tuition,  which put another dent in the savings.

"I thought we were going to Mom and Dad's."

"We are," Vivian answered. "This isn't going to take that long. Why don't you head over and we'll meet you there?"

"Sounds good," I said. "Are you in Atlanta again this week?"

It was a question I'd begun to ask regularly.

"I leave Wednesday and there's a dinner on Friday night that I can't  miss, but we're flying back afterward. I really hate that I'm missing  most of London's first week at school."

"There's no way you can get out of it?"

"No," she said. "I wish I could, but I can't. Do you think she'll be mad at me?"

"If you were missing her first day, it might be different, but she'll be  okay." I wasn't completely certain about that, but I knew it was what  Vivian wanted to hear.

"I hope you're right."

"Speaking of school," I went on, "the tuition bill arrived and I've been meaning to ask you about your paychecks."

"What about my paychecks?"

"Have you received any yet?"

She slung her purse over her shoulder. "Of course I've received my paychecks. I don't work for free."

"I haven't seen any deposits into our checking or savings account."

"I opened another account," she said.

I wasn't sure I'd heard her right. "Another account? Why?"

"It just seemed simpler. So we could keep track of our budget and your business expenses."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Don't make this into a bigger deal than it is."

But it IS a big deal, I thought, still trying to make sense of it. "Our savings account is getting a little low," I said.

"I'll take care of it, okay?" She leaned in and offered a quick kiss.  "But let me get going with London so we can get to your parents' at a  decent time, okay?"

"Yeah," I said, wondering if my wife had wanted to make my head spin. "Okay."





"That definitely falls into the that's-very-interesting category," Marge opined.

"I just don't know why she didn't even mention it."

"Hello? That's pretty easy. It was because she didn't want you to know."

"How was I not going to know? I'm the one who writes the checks."

"Oh, she knew you'd find out. Eventually. And that when you did, you'd sit back trying to figure it out."

"Why would she want to do that?"

"Because that's what she does. She likes to keep you guessing. She's always been that way."

"No, she hasn't," I said.

"Liz?" Marge asked.

"I'd rather not get involved," Liz said, holding up a hand. "I'm off the  clock. Now, if you'd like to know a wonderful Italian marinara recipe,  or if you have some insights into safaris, count me in."

"I appreciate that, Liz. I've heard Botswana has some fabulous safaris."

"I would love to go one day. That's my dream trip."

"Can we get back on topic please?" Marge said. "We have something very interesting going on."

"Rhinos are interesting," I said. "Elephants, too."

Liz put a hand on Marge's knee. "We really should try to schedule a  safari in the next couple of years. Don't you think that would be  fabulous?"

"I don't like when you take his side when he tries to change the subject."

"He didn't just try. I think he did a pretty good job. I saw an advertisement for a place called Camp Mombo. It looked amazing."

"I think you should definitely try to find a way to go," I said. "It's one of those once-in-a-lifetime things."

"Would both of you please return to the subject at hand?"

Liz giggled at Marge's obvious frustration. "Every couple has their own  style of communication and they often speak in shorthand. Unless I know  the subtext, I wouldn't know what to think about it."         

     



 

"See?" Marge offered. "She agrees with me that it's fishy."

"No, she didn't. She didn't say anything."

"That's just because you couldn't read her subtext."





"Seriously," I said to Liz later, "why do you think Vivian didn't tell  me that she'd opened another bank account? I know you're off the clock,  but I'd really like to understand what's going on."

"I'm not sure I can tell you what's going on. My guess would be as good as yours."

"But if you had to guess?"

She seemed to think about what to say. "Then I'd say that it was just  like she said and that it was no big deal. Maybe she simply wants her  own account so she can see exactly how much she's contributing and it  makes her feel better about herself."