Thanksgiving—our first Thanksgiving together—was coming up, and Robin had invited us to Tucson for dinner. We had no other plans: The show was off the three days before Thanksgiving; Leslie’s parents were out of town; Jeanine would be with her family; and it would be fun to go back, so we accepted. We decided to drive because, though it takes eight hours, there were three of us to take the wheel, and it would be a whole lot less stressful than dealing with airports on a holiday weekend—and that was before 9/11.
I took the first shift, and after we’d finished the bagels, cream cheese, and coffee/tea we’d bought to-go at The Bagelry on our way out of town, I asked, “Anybody know what date it is?”
“Don’t answer that, Les,” said Bart, quickly, from the back seat.
But not quickly enough.
“The twenty-second.” she responded.
“That was a mistake,” said Bart. “That’s always a trick question from Marc. Whenever he asks what date it is, it means it’s an anniversary of something that nobody else in the world cares about. He’s totally anal about dates.”
“Marc?” asked Leslie.
“He knows me much too well, but I don’t think it’s something nobody cares about. Turns out that today is exactly seven months from the Saturday night you came to dinner and never went home again.”
“I’d never have thought of putting it that way, but—April twenty-second? Has it been seven months?”
“Uh-huh, and since we’re all closed in here with nowhere else to go, it would be a great time to—”
“Sleep,” said Bart.
“—take stock of how we’re doing.”
“Please, no,” groaned Bart. “You guys analyze everything to death. That’s what I get for ending up with two teachers.”
“C’mon, kid. When we travelled with your folks, talking about our relationship was the one thing that could keep you awake. I figured it was worth a try.”
“If you didn’t want him to sleep, you shouldn’t have let him have the back seat,” pointed out Leslie.
“It wouldn’t matter. As you certainly know by now, if the car is moving and he’s not driving, he’ll fall asleep sitting bolt upright,” I replied.
“So,” asked Leslie over her shoulder, “while you’re still awake, Bart, how would you rate our own little design for living?”
“I give us a ten, easy,” said Bart.
“Is that a ten on a scale of one to ten or a ten on a scale of one to a hundred?” Leslie asked with a smile in her voice.
“That’s a ten on a scale of one to five,” he said. “It’s turned out way better than anything I could have imagined.”
“Really?”
“Don’t you think so? There’s none of the jealousy or competition I was worried about. I never said anything, but when we first talked about moving in together, I wondered if having both of you in the same house would be a problem. I was afraid I’d have to be careful about paying too much attention to one of you while the other was around. It hasn’t been like that at all.”
“I agree with him, Marc. It’s been almost too easy, don’t you think?”
“Do you think it’s that maybe we’re still at the After you, my dear Alphonse stage?” I asked.
“The what?” asked Bart.
“Being overly polite to each other,” Leslie explained.
“I don’t think so, Marc,” she continued. “I think that you and I are just completely in sync about the basis of our relationship.”
“By the basis of our relationship do you mean that lump in the back seat?” I smiled.
“I am right behind you, and I can hear what you’re saying, you know. Who you calling a lump?”
“I thought you wanted to sleep,” I said.
“Just following orders. You wanted me to stay awake.”
“You’re just hoping you’ll hear something flattering about yourself,” said Leslie.
“By being in sync about him,” she went on, “I mean that we each know that Bart needs both of us. He wouldn’t be completely satisfied with either one of us alone. So there’s no point in fighting over him. In that kind of competition, we’d all three lose. Does that make any sense?”
“Totally,” I replied. “Did you hear that, Bart? We won’t be fighting over you. I’ll bet that’s a disappointment.”
“Best news I’ve heard in a while,” he answered.
“But I’m still kind of surprised at how easily we function together on a day-to-day basis,” I said.
“I give Jeanine a lot of the credit,” said Leslie. “We—and by that, I mean I—don’t have to worry about all the things most people do, like keeping the place clean, deciding on meals, doing the laundry. She’s a wonder.”
“I think she’s still star-struck about Bart, Leslie. Ever notice the way she smiles at him and how she makes sure to always have things he likes for dinner?”
“I don’t know about that,” piped up Bart. “She still makes me clear everything I want through Les. The other day I asked her if she could pick up some raisin bran for breakfast, and she said, ‘Ask Ms. Leslie to put it on her list.’ I felt like a little kid.”
“That’s just Jeanine’s Rule. You know it’s saved us a lot of trouble. Besides, you are a kid, kid,” I said.
“Only to you, old man,” he replied, squeezing the back of my neck hard.
“Ow! Stop that. I think you’re right, Leslie. She takes care of so many of those things that most people argue about. We don’t have to get involved in discussions about what we should have for dinner or whose turn it is to take out the trash. We’re lucky to have her and even luckier to be able to afford her.”
“It’s true that we’re lucky to have her,” responded Leslie, “but we all work hard to make sure we can afford her—another positive in our situation. We’re all contributing. That makes a big difference because it eliminates all the financial problems that can wreck a relationship.”
“Hey,” said Bart. “What about love? Isn’t it just that we all care about one another that makes everything run so smoothly?”
“I know too many couples that honestly love each other—or did when they got married—and can’t live together on a day-to-day basis.”
“Yeah, but we’ve got something they probably didn’t have—rule number two. That’s sure made a difference.”
“You’re right about that, Bart,” said Leslie. “Being totally honest with one another has made a big difference.”
“Whatever,” said Bart, “But you can see what I meant by being a ten on a scale of one to five. We couldn’t have asked for a better set-up than we have.”
“You know what I love?” he continued. “Evenings when we’re all home, doing our stuff—me lying on the couch working on lines between the two of you with Les curled up at one end reading or grading papers, and Marc at the other end, doing whatever it is he does on his laptop—I never have figured that out. I think he’s watching porn. And then to top it all off, Jeanine comes in almost on schedule every night with her ‘Do you need anything else, Ms. Leslie?’ as if Marc and I weren’t even in the room. It’s all so damned comfortable.”
“I can see that, and I agree that’s great,” I said, “but my favorite time is the mornings when the door is open between our rooms, and we’re all back and forth, getting dressed and talking about whatever’s coming up that day or that evening or just listening to Bart tell me that no matter what I picked out to wear, it’s the wrong thing.”
“Somebody’s got to straighten you out, old man.”
“Not much chance of that now.”
“The thing I like best isn’t a time,” said Leslie. “You’ll both laugh at this, but it’s all the kissing. My parents don’t kiss each other very much. We seem to do it every time we leave the house or come back home, or go to bed, or see each other in the morning, or sometimes, I swear, just pass each other going from one room to another. I thought it was silly at first, but now I have to confess that I like it. I know it’s just a peck and a quick hug or squeeze, but I’ve gotten so used to it that I do it without thinking any more. Did you always do that—before me?”
“Marc started it,” Bart said. “It was weird for me too at first, but like you, I got used to it and liked it.”
“There’s a book,” I explained, “called I Should Have Kissed Her More. I’ve never read it, but I always thought the title meant we should never miss a chance to let those we care about know how we feel. We may never get another opportunity.
“It all goes back to something that happened in my family. My grandfather lived with us and when I was about ten, he had a heart attack at work and died before they could get help. What upset my mother almost as much as his death was that she hadn’t kissed him goodbye when he’d left the house that morning. It’s funny. I don’t think she made a regular thing about kissing him goodbye in the mornings, but still that was what she remembered whenever she talked about his death. I guess I’ve just over-compensated for that experience.”
“That’s beautiful,” said Leslie.
“All this time, and you’ve never told me that story, old man. I won’t ever make fun of you again.”
“Fat chance, kid,” I laughed. “That would totally destroy our relationship and us as well. We’d both perish of boredom and sincerity, a deadly combination. Not that you could stop harassing me, even if you tried. You wouldn’t last a day, thank God.”
“Are you saying I make fun of you on a daily basis?”
“No. Hourly would be more accurate.”
“Okay, you two,” said Leslie. “Enough. I’ve been thinking about something, and this is as good a time to bring it up as any. Having Uncle Buddy and AJ over was fun, but pretty much no one else has really visited. What about doing an open house for holidays? Invite friends, people from work, that kind of thing.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Bart. “When? Christmas day? New Year’s Day?”
“I think, out of consideration for Jeanine—if she’s even willing to do it—that New Year’s Day would be best. She’ll want to spend Christmas with her family and grandchildren. What day is January first? I think I have a calendar in here somewhere,” said Leslie, beginning to dig in her purse.
“The third is a Wednesday,” I said, “because that will be our seventh third anniversary. So that makes the first a Monday.”
“Only you would know that,” Bart laughed. “I told you he was anal for dates, Les.”
“I said you couldn’t stop. Your arm would be black and blue if I weren’t driving,” I said.
“Honestly, sometimes with you guys I feel like a den-mother or referee. Marc, why don’t you pull off at the next exit, and I’ll drive?”
I did. Leslie took the wheel, Bart fell asleep, and I put on the tape of Company.