Rom-Com Collection

Mom gave him an almost fond look, sort of the way a cat looks at a baby chipmunk … Hey, thanks for entertaining me! I’m going to chew off your legs now, okay? “Do go on,” she said.

Dad, who could be run over by a tank and not notice, continued. “Well, Eleanor, we’re not getting any younger. You’ve never been with another man, according to our son, anyway—”

Fred made a strangled sound … unlike Hester and me, he never learned to keep his mouth shut when our parents milked us for information on the other.

“—and we have to start thinking about the rest of our lives. You don’t want to end up alone, do you? We have a lot of good years left.” He sat up straighter. Gave Mom the twinkly-crinkly smile. “What do say, Ellie? Shall we try again?”

Mom smiled. Fred, Hester and I leaned farther away from the imminent explosion. “Well, Tobias,” she said. “You know, I’ll think about it … wait a minute, wait a minute. I don’t have to think about because I’m … what’s the word? Sober. Yes. I’m sober. So the answer would have to be … no.”

“Why not try?” Dad suggested. “If it doesn’t work, well, at least you were open to something new.”

Again with the almost (emphasis on almost) fond smile. “Why on earth would I want to be with you again, Tobias?” she asked.

Dad shot me a nervous look. “Well,” he said, and I had to give him points for courage, “I love you, Eleanor. Despite my reprehensible behavior—” here he inserted his best George Clooney grin … yes, I’m a bad dog, but check out these attractive laugh lines! “—I’ve never stopped. These past two decades, I’ve regretted my actions deeply—” Clearly, Dad had rehearsed this “—and I’ve learned the errors of my ways.”

“I didn’t ask about what’s in it for you, Tobias,” Mom said in that smooth and icy voice that had struck fear into our young hearts. “What’s in it for me?”

Dad paused. “Companionship?” he suggested.

“I’ll get a dog,” she answered.

Dad shifted. “Well, okay, if you want me to be blunt … what about sex?”

“Siblings! Shall we go?” I suggested. “Give Mom and Dad some privacy?”

My brother and sister didn’t move. “This is better than Tool Academy,” Freddie said, taking a pull on his beer. Hester, too, seemed fascinated, though more in the way a medical examiner is fascinated by a particularly gruesome murder.

Mom, uncharacteristically, said nothing, which Dad took as encouragement. “Remember, Eleanor? It never faded, did it? The passion. The urgency.” He raised an eyebrow. “It was the best thing about our marriage.”

“Except for your three beautiful children, of course,” Freddie said.

“That had to mean something,” Dad continued, ignoring his son. “People don’t feel that for each other without it meaning something.”

“Too bad we didn’t have Republicans for parents,” I observed. “You can bet the farm they never talk like this.”

“There are no Republicans in Vermont,” Hester said. “They died out, like the Shakers. Is there any more wine?”

Mom and Dad just stared at each other. Hope, a tiny seedling, sprouted in my heart. Could it be? “He has always loved you, Mom,” I said gently.

Mom smiled. A real smile. “I’ll consider it,” she said.

“What?” Hester said. “What?”

“Holy shit,” Freddie added.

“If,” Mom said.

“If what?” Dad asked.

“If you introduce me to each of the women you slept with while I was gestating our son.”

The blood drained from my father’s face. I pictured the hopeful seedling being crushed by my mother’s sturdy shoe.

“Well, uh … women … there were only, ah … two, Eleanor,” Dad said. She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, okay, three,” he amended. “And, uh, I’m sure I don’t know what happened to them. I barely remember them. I think they moved. Far away. To, uh, New Zealand, I believe, and uh … France.”

“Actually, I know where they are,” Mom said. “They all live within a hundred miles of here. I’ve kept tabs on them over the years.” She glanced at her children fondly. “I just love Google.”

Hester closed her eyes and shook her head.

“So, if you’re sincere, and it’s true that you’ve always loved me and want to rekindle anything, that’s what you have to do,” Mom said smugly.

Man. She really did enjoy burying people.

WHEN DAD HAD LIMPED away and Hester and the girls had gone home, and Freddie and Noah were hiding out in the workshop sanding a canoe, Mom and I stood side by side, doing the dishes.

“So that was interesting,” I said, rinsing a wineglass. I set it on the dishrack, where Mom picked it up and began polishing it with unsettling vigor.

“It certainly was,” she answered.

I studied her from the corner of my eye. Mom was attractive in her own way … big frame, strong features, kind eyes. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t beautiful, either. She looked … competent. Dad, on the other hand, turned heads on women ages seventeen to ninety-four, and was fairly incompetent in many ways … while Mom could probably overpower the Nazis and then climb in and drive their tank to the Allies, Dad … Dad would just surrender amiably and hope for the best.

“So are you really considering getting back with Dad?” I asked, turning my attention back to the legion of dishes.

“Of course not,” she answered. “He cheated on me, Calliope.”

“Right. So … no chance of forgiveness, then?” I placed another glass on the rack.

“I forgave your father long ago, Callie,” she lied, not looking at me.

“Really, Mom? Because—”

“How’s your love life, dear? Did that slovenly man in the café work out?”

“He wasn’t that sloven—”

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” she said. “Why the sudden interest in dating? I thought you were going to ask Hester for help on the motherhood front.” She snapped the dishcloth and got to work on a plate.

“No,” I said slowly. “I’d … I’ve always wanted to get married. Have kids the old-fashioned way. Live happily ever after.”

“That chair was your undoing,” Mom muttered.

“It’s not the chair’s fault, Mom.” I paused. “Just because things didn’t work out with you and Dad—”

“Sweetheart, I defy you to find me three couples who’ve been married for more than ten years and are living happily ever after. With each other, that is. Here.” She handed me back a glass. “You missed a spot.”

“Noah and Gran. Nana and Dimpy,” I said, naming my grandparents on both sides.