“Twenty months. He fell in June. It was three weeks before he woke up. Two weeks after that, he was admitted to Landsdowne.”
“Almost two years. Are you really surprised that a little attention from a nice-looking man left you so vulnerable? You’re only human. And, Monica, this daily battle to run the restaurant and deal with the kids is wearing on you too,” I said.
“Look, I think you’ve both been doing an amazing job of coping in terrible circumstances. But if you’re going to keep coping, you need a bit of joy in your lives.”
“But we’ve got this,” Grace said, spreading her hands. “We’ve got one another, and our Monday nights. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
I smiled. “I know. I feel the same. But one night a week isn’t quite enough to hang a whole life on, is it? When you were young, before you got married, what did you do for fun?”
“Jamie and I got married at nineteen,” Grace said, “so we’re talking about high school. Back then, my main hobbies were watching reruns of The Andy Griffith Show and eating entire cheesecakes, preferably at the same time. I’m not sure it made me happy—just kind of damped down the depression.”
“Cooking used to make me happy,” Monica said. “As a mostly ignored child descended from a long line of stoic Lutherans from cold climates, I had fantasies about growing up and having the big, happy, vaguely Italian family.”
She smiled to herself. “I’d dream of an overcrowded dinner table, people laughing and arguing and yelling, and talking with their hands, devouring huge platters of pasta and veal and sausage, sauces made with tomatoes, and cream, and red wine, all prepared by me, the mother of this big, boisterous brood. When I met Vince, it seemed like a dream come true. Here was this handsome, passionate Italian man with two kids—a good start on a ready-made family.
“But, look,” she said in a practical tone, “I didn’t kid myself. I knew that Vince and I weren’t exactly star-crossed lovers, but we liked each other. I was actually excited about being a stepmother. At my age, I knew it wasn’t likely, but I kind of hoped there’d be time for Vince and me to pop out a bambino of our own, maybe even two, before my biological clock struck midnight.
“Well, Vince was passionate all right,” she said, bitterly. “Just not about me. While I took care of his restaurant, house, and kids, he was out bedding every blonde in Portland. What a chump I was.
“Anyway,” she muttered before taking another swallow of tea, “that kind of spoiled cooking for me. Now it’s just a job, an exhausting grind. As far as the kids, if we could manage to sit down at the table without a fight breaking out, I’d still enjoy cooking for them. But I’ve given up.”
“Let’s put cooking aside for now,” I said. “When you were a kid, what else did you like to do?”
“Anything they told me not to.”
She grinned wickedly and I couldn’t help but laugh. Monica’s sarcasm can be a little hard to take sometimes, but there is something truly lovable about her.
“Hey,” Grace said. “I hate to break up the party, but I have to get going. I need to be at the office early tomorrow.”
“I should get going too,” Monica said, then scooped Nelson gently from her lap and set him down on the floor.
While I got coats from the closet, Grace and Monica put the cups into the dishwasher and tidied up the kitchen. When they were getting ready to leave, Monica turned to me and said, “I totally forgot, you called the restaurant last night. What did you need?”
“Oh, nothing that urgent,” I said, and opened the front door. “I’m just worried about the rescue. End-of-the-year contributions were down and medical expenses are up. We need to come up with a way to raise some money and I thought you might have some ideas. We can talk about it next week.”
“Come by the restaurant tomorrow,” she said. “We’ll do a little brainstorming.”
“Thanks. I have to take Nelson to the vet in the morning. We’ll drop by after.”
Grace zipped up her jacket and looked at Monica. “I almost forgot—what did the doctor say about your headaches?”
“She told me to take some aspirin. Hey! Just because it wasn’t serious doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been,” she protested. “Come on, Grace. Quit laughing. I had to put up with enough of that from Hazel.”
“Hazel?”
“The Urgent Care doctor. She works the four to midnight shift.”
“Wait. You’re not only on a first-name basis with the Urgent Care doctor, but you know her work schedule?”
Grace, still chuckling, gave me a squeeze and headed toward her car with Monica on her heels.
“You know,” Monica said, “you’re going to feel really terrible if something bad ever does happen to me.”
“You’re right. I will,” Grace said. “If.”
* * *
After waving them off, I went back inside, turning out the lights on my way back to the kitchen. The grandfather clock was ticking steadily, the dogs were snoring, and the house felt too big. It always does after visitors leave. It would pass. It was easier when the kids were still at home. Now I have to work at it, be more intentional. That’s what I was trying to explain to Monica and Grace.
I poured the lukewarm tea water down the drain and noticed that the kettle looked dull. I hadn’t planned on polishing the copper for another week, but now was as good a time as any and I didn’t feel tired. In fact, I was still a little restless, like I had been at dinner. Maybe I ought
