One Day Spat

Katrina wore an emerald green dress and her signature four inch high heels. Her shoulder length wavy, strawberry-blonde dyed hair had just a touch of gray. Looking at her no one would believe she was a seventy-year-old grandmother. Her husband, Russell Driscoll, had salt and pepper hair. His rugged build and moustache reminded her of Tom Selleck.

           Russell and Katrina sat together while listening to the preacher. He explained the concepts of forgiveness, Jesus’ peace that passes all understanding, and how Christians are not to let the sun go down on their wrath.

           The preacher ended with a prayer. “Father, I ask you to work on the spirits of the people here to learn to live in peace. Amen.”

           The congregation came alive with conversations about the weather, job hunting, and what grades children were in. The married couple ambled along with the crowd, visiting with the people as they did so. 

           Finally making it to the church door, Russell opened it for his wife. Katrina smiled, showing her dimples, and said, “Thank you.”

           At the car, Russell opened the door for his wife.

           “You treat me like a queen,” said Katrina as she carefully stepped in because of her high heels. With love in her green eyes, she added, “You must love me like Romeo loved Juliet.”

           Russell smiled underneath his bushy moustache. “What else could I do, but treat you like a lady?”

           “Thank you, my king.”

           As Russell drove the car, Katrina said, “Dear, where are you going?” She took note of all the stores passing by her window. “You haven’t lost your way home, have you?”

           “No,” said her husband. Russell’s heart longed for the bench car seats where he could put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m taking you to Mama Irene’s Restaurant. I made reservations two weeks ago.”

           “You do remember our wedding anniversary is not today, don’t you?”

           “I remember. It is this coming Saturday.” Russell shrugged. “It was the only day they had open . . . Does it matter?”

           “Of course not,” said Katrina.

           At the restaurant, the maître d’ showed them to a table with a lace tablecloth and a thin vase with a single rose. In a few minutes, a waiter arrived with their appetizer.

           The husband’s lover closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of creamed butternut soup and Italian herb and cheese bread. “How romantic! I love it. Do I get to keep the rose?”

           “Of course.”

           A violinist stood near them and played Andy William’s “You’re Too Good to be True”.

           “I paid the violinist to play this song.” Russell turned his gaze from the violinist to see his wife’s reaction.

           Katrina let out a sigh of remembrance. “My nephew played this song on a violin for our wedding dance. I remember. I have to say it again. It’s so romantic. I love it.”

Russell reached across the table for her hand and gave it a lighter squeeze than when he was younger.

“What are we doing for our anniversary?” she asked.

The question jolted her husband.

           “We can still do more for our anniversary,” continued Katrina. “It’s not until next weekend.”

           Russell let go of her hand and sat back in his chair to listen.

           “I know what I want. I want the children, the grandchildren, your brother, and my sister to come to our house. I want to pick up your mother from the nursing home.”

           “But she is over ninety years old.”

           “She’ll love getting out of there. I want us to repeat our wedding vows in front of everyone.”

           “Ummm. Guess that would be okay.” Then Russell whined, “But I don’t remember the vows.”

           “I know right where they are. I tried on my wedding dress. It still fits! You can rent a tuxedo. I plan to take our cake picture to Suzanne. She is good at re-creating food like that. Also—”

           “Wait a minute! What will all this cost?” A dubious expression appeared on Russell’s face.

           “I haven’t figured it up yet.”

“Isn’t this meal good enough? . . . I guess I could go for a sheet cake to feed everyone.”

           “This is our fifthieth. We won’t have many more anniversaries. I want it to be special.”

           “How would it be if I didn’t attend?”

           “Russell!” She switched to a matronly attitude. “You know I wouldn’t like that.”

           “You have all those pictures and memories. Why do we have to go through it all again?’

           “You don’t understand,” said Katrina.

           “You’re right. I don’t,” said Russell.

           The couple ate the rest of the meal in silence while the violinist continued playing another song.

           At home, the pair continued not saying anything to each other. Katrina hung up the emerald green dress. She put on a sweatshirt her grandchildren had given her and a new pair of slacks. Russell changed to irregularly faded blue jeans and a t-shirt with a moth hole in it.

           “I’m going to the shop,” he said while putting on a jacket. He walked out the door.

           Katrina, who was mad and stubborn, took out her cell phone and dialed. “Hello, Red Rose Floral? This is Katrina Driscoll. I want to order some flowers.”

           Russell noticed Katrina did not hum as she prepared supper. Katrina noted Russell did not describe the design of his latest woodworking project.

           At the red and white checked dinette table, the pair again ate a meal in silence.

           That is, until Katrina started in again.

           “We have money for your woodworking equipment and materials, but not for our once in a lifetime event.”

           “Our wedding day was our once in a lifetime event. Why do we need another?”

           “It’s our fiftieth anniversary. Don’t you care? We’re seventy years old. How many more memories will we be making?”

           “It’s not that big a deal.” Russell answered in an exasperated tone. “Why can’t we forget the wedding cake, leave my mother in the Home, and lose the tux?”

           Katrina lifted her water glass. “I feel like throwing this at you.”

           “It would do you more good than me.”

           She threw the ice water in his face. The water dripped off his moustache.

           Russell sucked in his breath at the shock. In response, he raised his voice. He also raised his spoon—one hand on the handle and the other hand pulling back the opposite end.

           “Do you want me to flick pea soup from my spoo – ?”

           Russell froze mid-sentence. He lowered his spoon and voice. “Do you remember what the preacher said this morning?”

           Katrina’s frown lines disappeared, and her face loosened. “Not to let the sun go down on your wrath?”

           “Yes. I think we should pray.”

           The husband stretched his hands across the small table to his wife, who followed suit.

           “Dear heavenly Father,” began Russell. “Katrina and I have been arguing. We don’t want to argue. Help us end it with plans we can both agree on. Amen.”

           Now Russell could smile. “Let’s do dishes together. Later, we’ll get comfortable in the living room and discuss what to do for our anniversary.”

           In the living room, Katrina made the first concession. “I was kind of proud to still be able to wear my wedding dress. I wanted to show it off. I’ll let go of doing that.”

           “No tuxedo,” he said.

           She nodded consent, but added, “Something better than blue jeans and a t-shirt.”

           “Agreed. I will even okay ice cream to go with the cake. A sheet cake.”

           She nodded again. “What about the vows?”

           Russell paused to consider because of the years of pressing every dime out of his purchases. “It won’t cost anything. Yes. I still want to honor them . . . What about my mother?”

           “I’ll get my brother-in-law to use Zoom. He and your mother can celebrate with us there in the Home. I’ll cancel the flowers except for the table decoration.”

           “I think we have an agreement.”

           Katrina kissed him on the cheek.

           As they strolled to the bedroom, the pair passed pictures displayed on the fireplace mantle.

           The couple stopped, “There’s Gracie at birth.” They took a step then pointed at another picture. “I’m so proud of Lester,” said the mother. “He graduated high school . . . I wondered if he would.” The parents laughed together.

           The pair took another step. “Here’s Thomas’ wedding picture.” Katrina sucked in her lips as she considered that wedding picture and thought of her own picture. They stepped to the end of the mantle. Husband and wife stared at their own bride and groom picture in a two-inch wide wooden frame Russell had made. 

           The pair gazed into each other’s eyes and kissed. Russell put his arm around Katrina’s waist as they entered their bedroom together.