Originally mailed on July 2, 1996

What a bunch of emotional ups and downs lately! Louella and I had a fight the other day, and Nona and I processed our relationship big time -- but the whole story starts weeks ago. See, I had been over at Louella's one day, gads, maybe back in May even. We were having a cup of tea at the dining room table, and there was stuff all over it: Louella's mail, some estimates for repairs on her new house, a thousand paint chips for picking colors, and a bunch of change-of-address postcards because, of course, Louella had just moved. I was doodling while we talked, and I filled out one of the postcards as if I were moving from my apartment to Nona's house. When I left Louella's, I put the card in my pocket but I didn't think anything of it. It was the equivalent of eighth-grade girls writing "Mrs. Bobby Simmons, Mrs. Robert Simmons, Jr., Mrs B. Jonathan Simmons." all over their notebooks. Nothing to take seriously.

That night when I got ready for bed I dropped the card on the dresser along with my pocket knife, change, keys, lip balm, lucky rock, and wallet -- just cleaning out the pockets of my jeans. I didn't give it another thought; it just sat on my dresser with the rest of the flotsam and jetsam that floats home with me every day: advertising flyers, business cards, expired coupons I forgot to use at the grocery store, the receipt from having my Birkenstocks re-soled, an ancient to-do list.

Well, last Saturday, Nona and I were watching Louella's kids as we sometimes do. We took them to a carnival. Louella told us before we left that she wanted us to give them a good lunch before we got to the carnival, that they could each have one treat at the carnival, and that the boys weren't allowed to go on spinny rides. I said to Nona, "That Louella is a big stick in the mud! What fun is a carnival if you can't eat too much and get all dizzy on the spinny rides? Jeez."

Nona said, "Well, Louella probably knows what's best for her kids."

I said, "Hmph. This is going to be no fun at all. Where should we take the boys for lunch? I hate having to stop for lunch before we go; half the day will be gone before we even get there."

Mark said, "We want to go to A&W and get a hot dog."

Nona said, "OK, A&W it is," but I said, "If you just want hot dogs, we might as well get them at the carnival, right?"

The boys said, "Right!"

Nona said, "I don't know, Harriet. Louella didn't want them to have lunch at the carnival."

I said, "A hot dog's a hot dog, Nona." So we bought the boys lunch at the carnival -- turns out they wanted corn dogs, and I thought that would be OK. Mark had a funnel cake for his treat, and Sam had a candy apple, and then I let them split a bag of cotton candy because I figured it would dissolve into nothing in their stomachs anyway. We wandered through the arcade area and had our fortunes told by a machine, and we rode the Ferris Wheel, and by then we were thirsty so we got some pop, and I bought some popcorn for myself but I let the boys have some, too.

The boys wanted to go on the Tilt-A-Whirl. I said, "Your mom didn't want you to ride spinny rides." They wheedled, I resisted. They begged, I stood firm. Mark said, "I'm seven years old. I think I'm old enough to make decisions like this for myself," and that cracked me up so much, him being so dignified and mature, that I gave in.

Of course Sam threw up all over me halfway through the ride. We went to my apartment so I could shower and change. While I was showering, Mark played with my hamsters and Nona sat on the futon holding a cold washcloth to Sam's forehead. He fell asleep, and she amused herself (I learned later) by picking idly through the stuff on my dresser.

When we dropped the boys at Louella's, Louella said, "Sam, why are you wearing Harriet's T-shirt?" and, before I could sugar-coat it, he said, "I threw up on the Tilt-a-Whirl."

Louella narrowed her eyes at me. "Harriet, what was Sam doing on the Tilt-a-Whirl?"

I tried humor. "Throwing up, just like he said."

Louella was not amused. She gave me a stern lecture about "there are reasons why I make rules for my children" and "I expect you to respect me enough to care for my children as I would" and so on. I felt like a five-year-old getting a scolding.

I said, "I just wanted the boys to have a good time with me. I've always thought it's part of the role of an aunt to let the kids do forbidden things. That's what makes being an aunt fun.

Louella said, "Encouraging kids to disobey is fun? Undermining a mother's authority is fun?"

I said, "Well, when you put it that way. I'm sorry, Louella. I didn't mean any harm."

She said, "Well, I guess there's really no harm done. I'm sure you'll obey my rules from now on," but I could tell she hadn't forgiven me yet. When we left Louella's I felt scared and upset -- I hadn't meant to make her mad at me. When people are mad at me, I always think the relationship is ruined, that they'll never get over it, that they will think I'm a bad person and stay away from me forever.

I wanted Nona to reassure me that my friendship with Louella would survive this upset, so when we got in the car I leaned over (she was driving) and put my head on her shoulder. She said, "Harriet, there's something we need to talk about." I sat up so straight so fast all the bones in my back cracked. "Do we have to talk about it now?" I said weakly.

Nona said, "The sooner we clear things up, the better, don't you think?"

I said, "No, I generally prefer to let things fester and putrefy unspoken. Nona, I'm upset. A kid barfed on me today, Louella's mad at me, and I can't even be mad back because it's honestly all my fault. I don't want you to be mad at me, too."

Nona said, "I'm not mad. I just want us to talk about something."

I said, "What do we need to talk about?"

Nona said, "We need to talk about you moving in with me."

I wanted to make a joke, say, "Don't you think you should get down on one knee for this?" but I didn't think she'd start off so heavy if she meant it was time for us to take our relationship to a new level. I said, "OK, what about it?"

Nona pulled into Big Boy. "Let's get a cup of coffee and some pie and talk about it."

I thought, "I sure feel like eating pie right now," but in we went. We spent a very tense couple of minutes perusing the menu. I ordered decaf and a slice of apple a la mode. Nona ordered coffee and chocolate cream pie. Nona said, "Harriet, I've suspected for awhile that you had certain expectations from this relationship, certain notions about the direction it would take, but I didn't think we needed to address that yet. Today, though, I found this in your apartment." She dropped the change of address card on the table.

I said, "Nona, that was just doodling. It's no big deal." The waitress brought our coffee, so I shut up for a minute. "I need some cream," I told her. "Thanks."

Nona said, "You mean to tell me you haven't been thinking about moving in with me?"

I said, "No, I'd like to move in with you someday. But I haven't been thinking about moving in with you this minute or anything. I haven't priced U-Hauls or started checking out my friends' muscles to see who can carry my bed." The waitress handed me a little plastic cup of cream. "I'll need at least two more," I said. "Sorry." I stirred the cream into my cup and stared at it. Still way too dark to drink.

Nona said, "Harriet, I have to tell you that I haven't even considered the possibility of you moving in."

I said, "You mean it hasn't crossed your mind? Thanks." The last to the waitress with more cream for me and pie for both of us. I added a second container of cream and stirred it in, then opened a third and started adding it drop by drop, stirring steadily to check the color.

Nona said, "No, it's crossed my mind. I mean I'm not even considering it a possibility." She took a bite of pie.

I tasted my coffee, then added a few more drops of cream to compensate for its slight bitterness. "Why not?" I took a piece of pie and a big dollop of ice cream on my fork but didn't put it in my mouth.

Nona said, "I like living alone. I've always expected to keep living alone."

I said, "Oh, you just don't want to live with anyone." Relieved, I took a bite of pie. It was very sweet. I thought, "She'll change her mind. She didn't expect to find someone like me."

She said, "No, and I'm not going to change my mind about that, not even for you. I love you but I don't want to share my house with you."

I said, "Just in general, or is there something about me?"

Nona said, "Both, Harriet, if you want to know the truth. I love having you around but I don't think we could live together day in and day out."

I said, "But we're great together! I'm not trying to talk you into anything, but I think we could live together. It'd be fantastic. To wake up together every morning, to eat dinner together every night, to wander the aisles at the grocery store and bicker about which brand of spaghetti sauce to buy. It sounds heavenly to me."

Nona said, "Harriet, what do you suppose people notice most about your apartment when they first see it?"

I said, "How small it is?" My ice cream was nearly gone but I still had a third of my pie. "Damn, Nona, look. I didn't ration right and now I'm going to run out of ice cream too soon. Pie is no good without ice cream."

Nona said, "That's why I like a cream pie. Don't have that problem." There was nothing left on her plate but a crust. She said, "No, Harriet, the first thing I noticed about your apartment was not how small it was. It was how chaotic it was. The first time you took me there the bed wasn't made, there were dirty clothes shoved under it, stacks of papers and books on every flat surface. And you knew I was coming! You invited me for dinner! You didn't even apologize for not having had a chance to clean up."

I said, "I had cleaned up. That's why the clothes were under the bed and the papers were stacked." I felt dejected. Dorothy and I used to have this same fight when we lived together. Nona and I don't even live together and here we were fighting about how tidy I am -- or, more accurately, how tidy I'm not. Petulantly, I smashed my remaining pie with my fork.

Nona said, "I'm not criticizing you, Harriet. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with your place. I'm just noticing that we are very different in that way, and I think it would cause problems. Especially if you tried to move into my place. Everything there is exactly the way I want it. I don't want anyone leaving junk mail on my dining room table or moving my pottery to put a hamster cage in the living room."

I said, "Well, I don't care if somebody moves into my place and folds her clothes every evening and puts them neatly on the dresser, or introduces matching dishtowels to my kitchen, but I don't think we'd both fit in my efficiency." I tried to grin at her.

Nona said, "I don't think we'd both fit, period. I feel sure it's best if we don't live together." She emptied her coffee cup and picked up the bill. "I'll treat if you get the tip."

I said, "Not ever? Would you ever reconsider?" I dropped a buck fifty in quarters and dimes onto the table and stood up.

As we walked to the front of the restaurant, Nona said, "Maybe in another year I would think about it."

I said, "Another year? So next fourth of July I could bring it up during the fireworks?"

Nona said, "Well, maybe not that soon. Say, September." She handed the bill and a twenty to the cashier.

I said, "OK, September of '97. It's a date."

Nona pocketed her change. "A date to talk about it." She took my hand. "You're not mad?"

I said, "Mad? How could I be mad when you just admitted you expect us to still be together fourteen months from now? I'm thrilled." I kissed her. But even as I said it, I had the sense that I was, in fact, angry with her, but I couldn't tell why. And then it hit me. "Wait a minute, where did you find that postcard?"

Nona said, "Under a bunch of stuff on your dresser. I was looking at things while we were waiting for you to get out of the shower earlier."

I said, "Now, Nona, I am mad about that. What were you doing, going through my stuff?"

Nona said, "It was all just sitting there. It didn't seem like anything important. I wouldn't have read a letter, you know, or a journal or anything. But this was just a bunch of junk sitting in plain sight. I didn't think you'd mind."

As we got in her car, I said, "Well, I do mind. Even if it doesn't look important to you, it might be important to me. I mean, jeez, what business of yours was it that I doodled a stupid change of address card? I should be able to indulge in a moment of fantasy about us without having to worry that it will be thrown in my face. And I should be able to have anything I like in my house without worrying that you'll find it. Jeez, Nona, that card wasn't even in plain sight."

Nona said, "I'm sorry, Harriet, if it upset you. I didn't think you'd leave anything private lying around like that."

I said, "Why shouldn't I, in my own home? My own tiny little one-room efficiency home. Where the hell am I supposed to put things if I'm not going to leave them lying around?"

Nona said, "I think you're more upset about all of this than you were admitting a while ago. It's OK if you're upset that I don't want to live with you. You don't have to, what's the word, displace it onto this postcard thing."

I said, "Hmph. I may be upset that you don't want to live with me, but I am also angry about 'this postcard thing,' as you call it. I don't like it that you think it's OK to go through a pile of someone else's papers."

Nona said, "A pile of obvious trash, Harriet. What's the big deal?"

I said, "The big deal is that it's my pile of trash. It doesn't matter that what you looked at wasn't important. What matters is that it was my stuff and you looked at it."

Nona said, "I'm trying to understand, Harriet, but I just don't get it."

I said, "And it's a big deal that you don't understand why I'm upset."

She said, "I want to understand. Explain it to me one more time."

I said, "I've explained it. You either get it or you don't." And we sat in pissy silence the rest of the way to her house.

In her driveway she asked, "You gonna stay the night?"

I said, "I don't know if I should."

She said, "Oh, Harriet, let's not make this into a bigger problem than it has to be. It doesn't matter if I understand or not. I'm sorry I upset you, and I promise not to look at anything of yours again unless you tell me I can. OK?"

I said, "OK. But I wish we felt the same way about this."

Nona said, "But you've got the better deal. I don't care if you look at the junk mail on my desk. If it makes you feel better, you can go through my drawers while I'm sleeping tonight."

I said, "I was hoping to get into your drawers while you were still awake," and she pinched me and said, "Oh, you're a bad girl," and that smoothed things over. But this is a turning point in our relationship, and it troubles me -- the first time we haven't seen eye-to-eye. I guess the honeymoon is over.

I don't mean to sound so pessimistic. It was a very hard day, though, having trouble with Louella when I just meant to do her a favor, and then processing with Nona. And then, lying in bed at Nona's half-asleep, I suddenly remembered I hadn't fed the hamsters, so I pulled my jeans and T-shirt on and drove home. I'm sure the hamsters could have survived until morning on their seed hoard -- when I first got them, I kept feeding them way too much because the food was disappearing so fast, and then when I cleaned the cage I found it all buried under bedding. And it's so easy to forget about the hamsters -- they don't come meowing and twisting around your legs if they get hungry.

I worry that I'm neglecting my animals to be with Nona. We always sleep at her house because her bed is bigger and she has an air conditioner and there's space for my little bit of stuff. I spend maybe three nights a week at home with Fang and Speedball. Many days, I dash in, feed them, and dash out again. They're used to having me around all the time and I'm afraid they're unhappy. It's another reason I'd like to live with Nona -- to make the cats happy. Maybe Nona will let the cats stay with us sometimes. I should ask. But I'd have to take the hamster cage, too, or I'd still have to go home to take care of them, and maybe that would feel too intrusive to Nona.

On the other hand, if I take just one object with me each time I go to Nona's, I could be moved in six months from now and her none the wiser. Then I could quietly let my lease lapse, and by the time she noticed, she'd be too used to me to throw me out! I should write a book, Harriet Mageehan's Subversive Relationship Strategies.

Here it is, time for me to go, and I haven't even told you about my mother's latest request for help in her healing -- she wants me and my Grandma to go to therapy with her. Nor have I whined to you about my money troubles, or dished the latest dirt on Splash and Romney. But that will have to wait because I'm writing this at work and liable to be fired if anyone notices that I'm giving the press less than my total attention. My annual review comes up soon and I've got to stay sharp because I need the maximum raise.

Love,

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