Attic Talk

Attic Talk

“Hey, look at this. I was some kind of cute back then, even with that beehive hairdo.”

“You were flirting with the damn photographer. On our honeymoon.”

“In one second, one glance, you can tell that? You didn’t even look–”

“I looked. Is this trash going? It’s nothing but old cards and stuff. My God, you must have saved every card you ever got.”

“Everyone WE ever got. And all four valentines you gave me.”

“I was working overtime those first years. And a valentine cost about as much as my lunch, if you remember. You didn’t have time to make a lunch for me. My mother packed a lunch for my dad for over twenty-five years. But did you have time? No.”

“Let me remind you, Mr. Couldn’t Fix His Own Lunch, those four valentines I did get were from the first four years we were married–when you point out we didn’t have any money–and I didn’t have any time. Right off the bat I was pregnant with Jessica, and she cried a lot. When you got the promotion and moved on up, that’s when you couldn’t afford any more valentines. Ha.”

“It’s too late to nag at me now, Tracy. Why didn’t you complain all those years?”

“Are you now blaming ME for not getting a valentine? Leave that box. I’m keeping that stuff.”

“Why? Just tell me why.”

“To remind me. To remind me.”

“Twenty years of junk you want to save, but you wouldn’t try to save our marriage.”

“Too bad you saved that motel receipt. Some things aren’t for saving.”

“And this is? We’ve been over and over this, Trace... Tracey. It was just that one time.”

“It was more than one time and you know it. If I know it and the Ace Detective Agency knows it and the lawyer knows it, surely you can remember.”

“Just that one woman, I mean.”

“Susan, that’s her name. Susan.”

“Susan. And it’s over, long over.”

“Sure, now that you’re caught.”

“Don’t wave that at me. What is that, anyway?”

“Jessica’s kindergarten diploma. Look, that smudge is where she spilled her chocolate milkshake–

“At the Dairy Queen. Remember how we expected to go somewhere really special–to treat ourselves after sitting through the graduation program–all twelve hours of it!”

“Three hours, and you only sat through it once. I sat through the rehearsals four times that week while you–”

“While I was working. Don’t start on that again. I left the office early that day–”

“Barely made it there by seven o’clock. Jessica was all puckered up, thinking you wouldn’t be there. You’d promised–and I promised...”

“But you didn’t believe it, did you? You expected me to be late. Don’t roll your eyes like that. I bet you rolled those eyes so little Jessica would think I’d not be there.”

“Did not. And now Jessica’s going to be a mother. Just a month or so.”

“You don’t really expect her and Les to welcome you with open arms, do you? Do you?”

“Yes, I do. She’ll need me. The baby will need me.”

“Come on, Tracy. Did you need your mother–?”

“Yes, I did! And she would have stayed longer if you’d been nicer. Grump. Grump. That was you.”

“She frowned if I tried to even kiss you while Jessica was nursing.”

“Mama frowned at everything then, except little Jessie, and don’t try to change the subject. I’m not like my mother–”

“You’re certainly frowning right now.”

“At you, not at–”

“Exactly the way your mother frowned at me, and I hadn’t done a thing to deserve it. She didn’t want our baby to have a father, just a mother and a grandmother.”

“And you don’t think you’ve done a thing to deserve it now? Mr. Innocence himself. Ha.”

“Now you’re pointing and frowning. You’ll have a deep furrow right between your eyes before you’re forty-five, if you don’t watch out.”

“Don’t tease me, Mark. I’m in no mood. Hey, here’s the pictures we took at Niagara Falls, never did get them in an album. Jessica was stumbling around there, determined to walk, she scared me to death–and you...”

“I was holding on to her every minute while you snapped the pictures. You yelled all the time, ‘don’t let go of her hand, she’ll head straight for the water.’ My god, you were frantic. She is cute in that little blue jumper–”

“That Mama made. Boy, you were hateful when Mama wanted to go with us.”

“I wanted you to myself for a change. She was at the house every other minute. I’d come home tired and there she’d be, the three of you, cozy as hell.”

“She was adorable. Jessie, not Mama. I know she got on your nerves. Mama, not Jessica.”

“My last nerve, as the girls at the office say.  Admit it, she cried six out of eight hours every night.”

“Why, she did not. Maybe a few times, just till she was through teething. Anyway, she just had her front teeth when we were at the Falls. She’s so cute. Here’s one of you, with her on your shoulders, looking scared.”

“Kind of blurred. You were shaking so, you were scared I’d drop her. Your hand was shaking.”

“No, remember, Mark. Remember what really happened. I was laughing, not scared. Her diaper started leaking, right on your shoulders. Just a little but I kept saying ‘smile’–”

“I was trying to smile, with her bouncing up and down and that warm dribble soaking through–”

“Your favorite red shirt, see. I bought that shirt for you on Valentine’s...”

“Yeah, I liked that shirt. Wonder if I can still button it. I bet it’s still up here somewhere, in a box. You’ve never thrown anything away.”

“And I didn’t even get a Valentine card!”

“Oh Lord, back to that. Think hard. I worked overtime straight for three weeks, got home for dinner that night, your mother was there, Jessie was crying with a stomach ache from all the candy hearts you two fed her...”

“She found the box and ate them before we knew it!”

“Anyway, you gave me the shirt–in a red box with a big bow—and then, I think I fell asleep before you even served dessert.”

“Mama said, ‘Just let him sit there asleep,’ and I was so mad at you that I let you slump in that awful, ratty old recliner for a couple of hours.”

“Yeah and then you woke me up by shaking me, not a word, and went to bed without a word.”

“And who was up half the night with Jessie? Throwing up.”

“It was all that candy. She never wanted another one of those little candy hearts.”

“She’s not happy, you know, about us divorcing.”

“She’s not happy? I’m not happy. Damn it, Tracy. One time–with good reason–”

“What good reason? Our sex wasn’t good? Our conversation wasn’t brilliant? My thighs weren’t trim and my breasts—? What good reason? I worked my butt off, too, you know, to help give us a good life, starting the minute Jessie went to first grade.”

“And, boy, did you work, work, work, too tired to do anything else.”

“I was never too tired for sex, Mark. I never once refused–”

“Refused, no. Enjoyed? You didn’t act like it. You started managing that video company office and you stopped–”

“Those kids needed a good office manager, didn’t they? Electronic wizards they were, managers they were not. The company blossomed with me there, didn’t it? You couldn’t stand another executive in the family? You had to start facing reality...”

“The reality of Ms. Boss at the office and Ms. Exhaustion at home. How many nights a week did Jessie get a home cooked meal?”

“You mean–you. You didn’t get met at the door by a smiling little housewife and a sweet smelling little girl. Welcome to the real world, Mark. We could move out of the little house, we could take some trips, Jessica had a pony and lessons.”

“Oh, come on, Tracy, you worked because you wanted to, not because you had to. You loved managing and then, zap, you woke up to what you were missing–and you blamed me.”

“I saw I couldn’t stay twenty-three forever–and so you found another twenty-three year old.”

“Twenty-seven. She was twenty-seven and divorced herself. And it’s long over.”

“Look, Mark, these pictures show a happy family. Every one of these, up until THEN...”

“We were happy. I was happy–most of the time, ignorant the rest of the time, I guess. Busy and ignorant.”

“Yeah, look at this one. Jessica’s high school graduation...we’re all smiles–”

“When you’d just hired the detective and Jessie was pregnant–barely a week pregnant, okay. And we’re all smiling. Her Les is taking our picture. He had the ring in his pocket–”

“And his Air Force acceptance papers, the sneak.”

“Hey, give him credit, Tracy. They’re doing okay.”

“With what you send them extra. Don’t look so surprised. I know you send them money every month. Jessie told me. She loves you for doing it without a big fuss.”

“And, I know you also help them out–yep, she told me–to say nothing of the ton of baby clothes you’ve sent. We talk at least once a week.”

“What does she say about the divorce? Does she blame me? Expect me to forgive you? She implies it, it’s there, under her words, but she just says ‘Whatever you have to do, Mom’ and sighs a lot.”

“Nope, she’s quite a girl, isn’t she? We must have done something right. She loves you–even if you have thrown me out. ‘Oh, Dad, was it worth it?’ is all she’s said.”

“Was it? Worth it?”

“At the time, I thought so, Tracy. I can’t lie about that. You were always excited about your work, not about me. I saw you flirting with those boys at the video company. I saw how your face lit up with them and closed up when I came home. I, yes, I thought I could justify Susan, But–”

“But?”

“I didn’t think far enough ahead. Okay, didn’t think, period. Susan realized she was being used, too, and I didn’t think you cared enough to throw me out, or even cared enough to check on me.”

“Flirting with those boys! Me? Well, they made me feel young, alive, useful. Maybe I did–”

“I want us back together–look at all this stuff. It’s us. It’s a life–like volume one of a two-volume set. Hey, quit grinning like that. I can get poetic...come live with me and be my love...”

“And we will all life’s pleasures prove...somewhere along the way I got sidetracked and you, you, you got off the track!”

“Hey, what a great image...railroading as marriage, but I’m tired of all this looking at pictures and the past, all this dust of the good old days. Frankly, I could use a quick shower–and a glass of something cool–and then, could we sit down and talk.”

“Okay. Showering here? Is that a ploy? a strategy? Think if I see you naked, I can’t resist?”

“Ohhh, do you intend to watch?”

“Dream on. I’ll do something wicked in the kitchen.”

“Not necessary. I don’t expect–”

“Leftovers. With your favorite beer.”

“You mean you still got a Samuel Adams in the fridge?”

“I do. And you know what, Mark? I was flirting with that damn photographer.”