CHAPTER 21
“Gincy. Hi. So, tell me.”
“No,” Gincy said. “I’ve been selfish since I’ve been here. I want to know how your day was.”
“Uneventful,” Rick told her. “Work is fine, the loft is fine, I’ve got a new craft beer to try and I’m hoping it’s more than just fine, and Justin says he’s looking forward to being with his family at Christmas. And yes, I watered the tree.”
“Great. Okay, now it’s my turn.”
And Gincy told her husband what Tommy had shared with her about her parents’ relationship, about how her mother depended on her father, about how she missed Ed when he was off in Boston, about the lovely frame he had been carving for his wife when he died.
“I’m struggling, Rick,” she said. “I’m trying to figure it all out. How can Tommy’s truth square with what I say is true?”
“One family, multiple truths. That’s always the way it is, Gincy.”
“Yeah, but . . . The thing is, Dad never said a word against my mother. He wouldn’t. He was a gentleman. But Mom criticized Dad all the time, and to anyone who would listen—the neighbors, the aunts and uncles, even the mailman.”
Rick laughed. “The mailman?”
“Okay, maybe not the mailman. But it never stopped, Rick. She complained that Dad couldn’t replace a broken bicycle spoke, which by the way was a lie because he was the one who taught me how to replace a broken bicycle spoke. She complained that he didn’t stand up straight. Well, what did she expect? The man spent a lifetime lifting and hauling stuff in that hardware store, boxes of nails and lawn mowers and huge power saws. Is it surprising he was a little stooped? He didn’t stand up straight because he couldn’t! She complained he always forgot when it was time for a haircut. Why should he have bothered to remember? Mom was the one who told him when to go to the barber. She would even hand him the five dollars or whatever it cost and send him on his way, like he was a little kid. How can you always be criticizing someone you love?”
“First,” Rick said, “maybe your mother simply wasn’t able to show her love in any other way. Okay, I know that sounds crazy, but not everyone is comfortable expressing their feelings. It makes them feel too vulnerable.”
“But what about how poor Dad felt?” Gincy insisted.
“Maybe he blocked all of it out, the chatter, the complaining. A lot of people learn to do that. Men, mostly, but that’s just my opinion. Anyway, I’m not saying it’s the healthiest way to go through life, but if it works . . .”
“That’s not what you’re doing, is it?” Gincy asked worriedly. “Blocking me out because I’m so annoying?”
“Gincy. No, it is not at all what I’m doing.”
Gincy sighed. “I know. Sorry. It’s just that, I always thought Dad was unhappy. I mean, when I started to think about him at all, and that wasn’t until the summer I met you. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was projecting my own dissatisfactions with Mom and life in Appleville onto him. I thought that if I was unhappy here, he must have been, too.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s been blinded by her own prejudice.”
“Yikes. When you put it like that, it sounds almost criminal. Rick? Did Dad ever talk to you about Mom?”
“Never,” Rick said. “But I always got a strong sense that he was devoted to her. If he wasn’t exactly happy, and I’m not saying he wasn’t, then he wasn’t exactly unhappy, either.”
“All those time he stayed with us in Boston, I never once remember him calling Mom. Or her calling him, for that matter. And we know he refused to have a cell phone, so he wasn’t chatting with her at midnight after we had all gone to bed.”
“I don’t think that generation of married couples went in much for phone conversations,” Rick said. “For one, they were never apart for that long. I bet your father talked to your mother via the phone fewer than ten times in their life together.”
“Huh,” Gincy said. “That’s an interesting point. Before Dad started to visit us, they were never apart for even a night, not that I can remember. It’s not like he had to travel for work or she had any relatives she wanted to visit across the country. But wouldn’t that mean they would be so lonely for each other when Dad was in Boston and Mom back home that they would spend hours on the phone?”
Rick sighed. “Remember, Gincy, no one knows what goes on in a marriage but the two people in it.”
“I know. Mom asked me how long I was staying.”
“Good question. What did you say?”
“I said something like, not too long, don’t worry.”
“What did she say?” Rick asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’ll just have to play it by ear then.”
“I’m going to talk to Mom about money tomorrow,” Gincy told him. “I’m going to ask to see her checkbook.”
Rick whistled. “Good luck,” he said. “That’s going to be unpleasant. Your mother is a proud woman. Remember the fuss she made back when your dad died and we asked to see her financials to be sure she had enough to pay for the funeral and all?”
“I vaguely remember her calling me a rapacious vulture after her fortune. Well, rapacious is my addition.”
Rick laughed. “I hate to tell you, but she said a lot more once you’d left the room.”
“I don’t want to know! Rick? I love you.”
“I love you, too, Gincy,” he said. “Sleep well.”
“I’ll try,” she promised. “But it’s not so easy without you.”