Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat, Weekend Edition 9/16/2011
“It’s not that I mind refilling your prescriptions,” I said to my husband as I speed-dialed the pharmacy. His medications were aligned before me like candidates hoping to be re-elected. “I just want you to see how easy it is to do. That way, if something happens to me, you can still keep up with your medications.”
“Vin,” my husband began in that way that always leaves me wondering, even after 25 years, how serious he’s being, “if something happens to you, I will just crawl into the coffin, right next to you.” At the risk of sounding morbid, that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.
He’s telling me that, despite his efficiency and time management techniques (which are very noble except when he tries to apply them to me), in spite of his extensive reading and numerous hobbies, his wizardry with computers, and his unequivocally superior intellect, he doesn’t feel qualified to handle life without me. Just a few words - sometimes, that’s all it takes to make a sad and silly person happy. (I do accept flowers and candy too, of course.)
I was elated for days. I waste time. I procrastinate. I live in clutter. I’m not a great housekeeper or cook. Of course, I have my good points, but they happen to be buried in the clutter at the moment.
My husband is not a man of flowery speech. He has a Ph.D. in physics. Need I say more? If he wants to tell you something directly, he just does.
Many readers have asked about him since his massive heart attack in November. He is doing really, really well. Thank you for your concern and prayers. My husband’s cholesterol levels are superb and he has lost 45 pounds. But nowadays my husband constantly mentions how easy it is to lose weight – not in a bad, hinting sort of way. You have to remember that as a scientist, he is simply making observations and stating facts. Repeatedly.
Scientists love to repeat things. They are all about doing experiments and repeated trials. Listening to him repeat himself is becoming a trial for me. While he has been shedding pounds, I have been finding them and trying them on for size: A bigger size.
But don’t feel bad. He’s talking about calories consumed versus calories expended – it’s so beautifully simple, you see. He usually does this when we are walking up the hill together, which is a good thing, because don’t expect me to be walking and talking. I guess, when it comes to calories, I’m just a conservative spender. I’m banking them away in case times (or I) ever get too lean. He claims I don’t need to lose any weight, even though the weight charts say differently. He likes my plumpness, but I’m not sure if I want to be mistaken for a prime roaster hen. But I’m not afraid; if I thought he wanted me to lose pounds, he’d just say so, directly.
Sometimes I think he’s too direct.
When we lived in California, we had an unmarried couple for neighbors. With them lived the man’s teenaged daughter, because her mother – I can’t say if she had ever been his wife - had been killed in a car accident when the girl was just four years old. On alternate weekends, his elementary-school-aged son would visit. That boy’s mother – I’m not sure if she was the man’s wife, ex-wife, or had never been his wife – lived in another town nearby. I hope you were able to follow that. I’m sorry; it’s a little complicated without names.
Let me make clear that despite the complications, we liked our neighbors. I would often help the teen with her math homework. She would often help me out by “playing” with our young daughters and managed to get them to clean their room in the process. We had dinner together.
The woman who was our neighbor was beautiful and kind. She sewed matching sunflower outfits for my girls and made me a maternity dress when I was expecting my first son. Whenever she saw me looking frazzled, she would invite my daughters over. Upon their return, they always sported something new that she had “thrown together” – in duplicate, of course. Maybe it was a tiara with a veil. Once it was a long tutu. You know the kind? You have to beg and bargain with your daughters to remove these before bathing, bedtime, and public excursions. Otherwise, they wore those tutus so much they might as well have been tattoos. How could you not like this woman?
Anyway, as the teen grew older, she moved away to live with her mother’s relatives, and then ended up cohabiting with some unsavory character. At least, that’s what I gathered from the lamentations of our neighbors that day as they stood outside wringing their hands. “Oh, that’s too bad,” I said, sympathizing.
My husband was more direct – too direct. “Well, where do you think she learned this from?” Ouch.
Now you see why his few words thrilled me so much the other day.
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