The second the words came out of his mouth, he knew he’d live to regret them. The dumbstruck look on Grace’s face confirmed his fear.
“Wow,” was all she managed to say. She reached out to the back of a chair to steady herself, wishing he’d just gone ahead and hit her.
“Grace, I’m sor-”
The look she gave him signaled a quick recovery that stopped his apology cold.
“Don’t,” she said, retrieving her purse with one hand and wiping away a tear with the other. She sniffed. “Do not apologize for something you’ve obviously wanted to say for a long time.”
“But that’s not what I meant, Angel. I meant I’ve done my best to support your efforts from the day we got together…”
“You know what?” she interrupted. “I think we should just table this discussion for another time. I’m gonna go look in on the kids, and go to bed. We’ll have plenty of family togetherness tomorrow when we go to see Maggie at Deana’s show.”
Grace turned and slowly ascended the stairs to the children’s rooms to say her good nights. Joe was completely deflated. “Grace, please…” he pleaded. “We promised we’d never go to bed angry with each other.”
Grace turned in the middle of the staircase. Looking earnestly at her husband, she flipped a lock of hair over a shoulder. “I’m not angry, Joe. Honestly I’m not. I’m just very, very sad. I can’t talk anymore tonight, okay?”
Joe mouthed a silent ‘okay’ as he nodded his head. With a heavy heart he stood in the doorway of his study and watched her ascend the stairs.
They lay back to back in their bed for a while, until Grace finally let Joe take her in his arms and hold her. The gentleness of his embrace moved her to tears; and he let her cry herself to sleep that night. Occasionally, he kissed her on her forehead; but he never spoke a word to her the entire time.
What could he say? His words had already betrayed him. He knew what he meant to convey, but in the heat of the moment he gave into a knee-jerk reaction instead of thinking things through, which was more in tune with his nature. If fear existed before, it was nothing compared to the churning in his stomach at this point. For the first time in his married life, he wrestled with an unfamiliar sensation: the fact that their marriage was rapidly approaching shaky ground, and neither one of them saw it coming.
Joe’s eyes adjusted to the greenish-yellow digital numbers of the clock on the nightstand. His alarm was due to go off in five minutes, but the sound of running water was what crept into his consciousness to stir him awake. Grace was showering, after having been up for nearly two hours already.
She’d gone for a run, packed lunch for the kids, put out the cereal and made toast and coffee for breakfast before waking the kids and finally settling in to see about herself. Joe even noticed a tie and a shirt of his had been laid out over a chair across the room. She left no stone unturned.
Grace might have never taken a narcotic, but it was clear that when she was troubled, she did have a drug of choice: Relentless activity.
On a normal day, Joe might attempt to playfully steal a sensual moment with his wife in the shower. As busy as their lives had become, they had to work their lovemaking in whenever they could.
This would not be one of those days.
The uneasiness in Joe’s stomach had yet to abate. Gathering his courage and his bathrobe, he headed downstairs to the kitchen where Gwen was eating her cereal over the sink, Katy Perry’s latest album in her headphones.
Joe marveled at how his daughter was a study in constant evolution. Overnight it seemed she’d gone from cherubic toddler to coltish tween; her lithe figure almost identical to her mother’s at that age. The same sable brown hair, stretching past the mid-point of her back, was secured with a simple headband that matched the color of her t-shirt.
A casual flip of her hair over the shoulder brought a smile to Joe’s face. That was the first time he’d ever noticed that Gwen had picked up her mother’s involuntary habit.
“Morning, Daddy,” she said with a mouth full of cereal. The head phones never came out of her ears.
It was fairly normal to see the twelve year old blocking out the world around her with music, in part because she loved it and hoped to be a singer, following in her Aunt Maggie’s footsteps someday, but mostly because the music provided much needed relief from the nightmare better known to the rest of the world as Matty and M&M.
Older by thirty six minutes, Mary Margaret felt the need to constantly remind her brother of the fact. She somehow managed to ascertain that since it took him so long to get into the world, he was a good deal inferior and needed her constant help and supervision.
Carefree and always ready to be the center of attention, Matty simply enjoyed throwing things at her, ignoring her tutelage and being a general nuisance at any given opportunity.
Constantly embarrassed by them both, Gwen had convinced herself that she was adopted.
After kissing Gwen on top of her head and removing her earphones - a move that drew a look of sharp indignation, Joe sat at the table to address the twins, who were in the midst of their primary form of communication: arguing. It could be over any topic, for any reason, at any time. And while it could definitely mellow for blissfully brief periods, it never truly ended.
“Good morning young ones,” he said. “Now, what’s going on here?”
“Daddy, Tell him to give it back,” said M&M, reaching for an object that Matty seemed determined to keep out of her reach.
“What is it?”
“It’s mine!” the twins scream simultaneously.
“I didn’t ask whose it is, I asked what it is, now come on,” Joe said. He stood up and managed to grab Matty’s wrist to pry loose the item clutched in his grasp
“What is wrong with the two of you? This doesn’t belong to either of you! This is my tie clip,” he said with frustrated emphasis. “You two will find anything to argue about…”
“You just missed, it Daddy,” said Gwen, placing her books in her backpack. “About ten minutes ago, they were actually arguing over the color of cheese.”
“You’re kidding,” Joe said. Gwen raised a brow and shook her head. “He says it’s yellowish orange, she says it’s orange-yellow.”
“It is,” they both exclaimed.
“I told you that you should have sold them when they were babies.”
The whole scene was too much for Joe. Burying his face in his hands he exclaimed, “Who are you people?”
“They are the little bundles of joy with whom God entrusted us, sent straight from heaven to enrich our lives,” Grace said exultantly as she swept through the kitchen. “Now am-scray, you little gremlins. Outside…before I put you up for grabs on e-bay.”
Gwen was already halfway to the door. “This family is so dramatic,” she said as the screen door slammed.
“That attitude, little missy, will keep you from tonight’s concert,” Grace teased as Gwen made a hasty return from the garage.
“Oh mom, please. I’m sorry, I adore this family,” she said with a brightly manufactured smile.
“Who’s being dramatic now?” Grace laughed as she reached into a large duffle bag. Pulling out a manila envelope, Grace continued her torture as she slowly pulled out a stack of what looked to be laminated passes.
“Oh my gosh, are we going backstage?!?” Gwen shrieked, her voice rising in pitch with each word. “Aunt Maggie’s the best! I can’t wait to get to school. I’m gonna be the bomb when I tell my friends! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Joe looked at his daughter as if she was a foreign object. “And ‘the bomb’ is something you wanna be, right?” His question was lost in Gwen’s euphoria. The twins giggled at the silliness of it all.
“Wow, didn’t know that this is what it took to get a little affection from you, sweetie,” Grace said as she returned her daughter’s embrace. “But you are more than welcome.”
Grace and Joe caught one another’s eye and exchanged smiles. It was clear that morning brought with it a certain air of relief.
“Are we really gonna see Tina Timmons tonight Mama?” said Matty.
“It’s Deana Timmons, bucket head,” said M&M.
“Shut up!”
“Make me!”
“Alright, enough!” Grace said “Please get your book bags and your lunches and take world war three outside now. I’ll meet you at the end of the driveway to wait for the bus.”
As the children made their way outside, Joe crossed the uncomfortable space to take Grace’s hands in his. “Amazing how good the silence feels once your children leave the room,” she said with a wry smile.
“How do they just magically become my children when the act this way?”
“It’s just easier the put the blame on you.”
They both laughed softly. Knowing something needed to happen; they both began to speak at the same time. “Go ahead,” she said.
“You first,” said Joe.
“Well, I just wanted to say that I am so sorry the way I ambushed you last night. Not just with the Com/Arts thing, but with the way I was feeling about my life. That was so wrong of me to just totally unload like that.”
“It’s alright, hon. I understand. You need to talk to me about this stuff. I hate that it’s been building up for so long with you. I’m sorry too. I really didn’t mean what I said about the adolescent dream. That was a rash reaction to everything…”
“I know, I know…”
“We both messed up last night. But your dreams, your identity, your life - those things are huge, and I don’t want you regretting one single second of any of it. Your happiness is important to me. You are important to me. We will work this out, Angelfish, I promise.”
“For better, for worse, right?”
“That’s what the preacher told me to say.”
They sealed their pact with a slow, deep, relaxed kiss. The pace at which they both fell into the emotion of the act reminded them that it had been quite some time since they’d allowed themselves that kind of physical indulgence. Touching foreheads, Joe whispered, “I’m sorry we never got to New York.”
“Hey,” she said as she moved in to hug him. “Never say never. We’ve got all the time in the world, Buddy.”
“That we do, Angelfish. That we do.”
“See you tonight, Bud. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The sound of a car’s horn cut through the tenderness of their moment like a machete.
“Matty,” they said in unison.
“I’ve got some spare time today,” Joe said as Grace gathered her things to head out the door. “I can check and see if you can actually sell a kid on e bay.”
Grace gave her husband a shocked expression. “Joe! You shouldn’t even joke about a thing like that.”
“I was kidding,” he said.
“No, I mean…it would only be a matter of time before someone tried to send him back,” she said. Her deadpan expression made Joe laugh out loud.
“God gave us that child for one reason and one reason only,” she continued as she shouldered her tote.
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“No one else could ever dare handle him.” Another honk of the horn. She turned her attention toward the garage. “Matthew Joseph Buchanan,” she yelled, using a loud, guttural tone. “Do we need to have a come-to-Jesus meeting or are you gonna lay off of that horn?”
Joe chuckled to himself as he poured a cup of coffee. Suddenly, he remembered: “Oh honey, before you go; what’s the status on Maggie’s birthday party?”
Grace momentarily returned her attention back to Joe, slightly distracted by the realization that her son had just broken into a locked car to sound the horn.
“Um, I ordered the cake yesterday; it will be delivered Tuesday afternoon. She’s supposed come over around 6 for dinner Tuesday night, but she’s got no clue that her parents and mine are coming. The twins are in charge of the decorations.”
“Oh Lord.”
“Yeah, that should be interesting,” she laughed. “Gwennie’s working on a fantastic homemade card with a poem she’s written; Richard’s bringing drinks, and you, my love, are in charge, as always, of the grill.”
“Sounds great. Looks like its grocery shopping tomorrow, then.”
“You got it.” Another blast from the car horn. “I’m coming!” she screamed as she walked out the door to the open garage.
Grace continued to scold her son as they made their way to the end of the drive. Joe grabbed his mug of coffee and went to the front of the house to watch his family head off into their day.
“Thank you God,” he sighed. “Thank you for that amazing woman. Thank you for the fact that I get to spend the rest of my life with her. Thank you.”