Chapter 8
One time early in our marriage, I took the train to see my mother.
Terrence and I could hardly stand to be separated in those days, not like in later years when he would disappear into his workroom or I would take much too long looking at jam at the grocery store.
I wonder do you remember, Ruthie, when you brought your fiancé to meet me, both of you pleased as punch that you had found your true love that was going to last forever and YOU two wouldn’t EVER fuss at each other?
Well, fussing is part of a marriage, just like hard times are part of a life.
They help form it. You may not like it when it’s happening, but you get through it and then you look back and say well fine then. Now I know something.
Speaking of fussing, listen to this one.
One time Terrence and I had a fierce disagreement before bed.
It was about the thing I’ll tell you about later.
I thought he and I had discussed it and put it to rest. But you know sometimes when you think you’re all done with something, it rears up again.
They say you shouldn’t go to bed angry, but we were sure enough headed that way.
I was muttering into my mirror while I took cold cream off my face.
I thought, Tell you one thing, I am not sleeping with that man tonight.
And off I went to the guest room, and I lay down in that narrow bed and I felt smug pleased with myself.
So there! I was thinking, as I fell asleep.
But I woke up some hours later and I reached my hand over and there was nothing.
And I remembered where I was and I thought, For heaven’s sake, go to your own bed and lie beside your husband.
Well, I went to my bed and lo and behold it wasn’t even turned down.
I crept downstairs and there I found Terrence asleep on the sofa halfway falling off it, and the afghan pulled up tight in his fists.
Terrence, I said, and his eyes popped open and he looked scared.
Come to bed, I said, and I was speaking gentle, I could see he’d been startled hard.
He sat up and blinked and then he said, Oh.
I thought you were an angel. I am, I said, and I held out my hand and he took it and we ascended the staircase together.
But for heaven’s sake I still haven’t said about the hard-boiled eggs. My mind does wander.
So as I said, I once took the train to see my mother and before I left Terrence said, How about I make you some hard-boiled eggs to take on the train.
I said that would be wonderful and I meant it because every time I see someone eat a hard-boiled egg on public transportation, I think, Well, weren’t they smart.
Terrence saw me off at the station and come about lunch time I opened my paper sack.
On the shell he had drawn a heart with an arrow through it and our initials inside, like you see carved into a tree.
That made me have a private smile. But also he had taken a tiny little jar and put holes in the lid and there I had my own personal salt shaker.
When someone thinks of things like this, you just feel so well cared for.
Look what I got, I felt like saying to everyone, but naturally I kept it to just me.
Which was enough. That little salt shaker is in the cupboard next to the bowls. It can still come in right handy.
It’s only six o’clock, Ruthie, but I’ll go to bed after dinner, you know there is a kind of luxury in going to bed early.
I’ll look at my ladies’ magazine and then drift off.
I do have some more things to tell you about.
Seems like there’s nothing like a reminder that your time is nigh to make you awfully talkative. I hope you’ll be patient with me.