13: Gossip
Originally emailed on Jun. 1, 1998
Hi,
Yesterday I was having a lovely morning. The boys were still at their dad's for the weekend, and I was out in the yard in the mid-morning working with Hot Rod. Miriam has been nagging me to teach Hot Rod a little basic obedience, so I've been working with her on "down" and "stay." She's making progress, and I was thinking rather smugly about how next time I saw Miriam we could show off for her, when the boys came running around the side of the house into the yard. Hot Rod broke her stay, of course, to greet them, and I gave each of them a hug and a kiss and said "Good morning" to their dad's boyfriend Michael, who had followed them into the yard.
"Good morning," he answered as he handed me the boys' duffel bags. "We all had a real nice weekend, didn't we boys?"
Mark and Sammy nodded. I gave them their bags and said, "Go unpack. Put the dirty clothes in the hamper and, if there's anything still clean, fold it and put it in your dresser." The boys left. I said to Michael, "They'll throw everything in the hamper whether it's dirty or not." He nodded. I said, "Isn't Sam with you?"
Michael said, "Oh, he had some work to do, so I offered to take the boys to breakfast and then drive them home."
I said, "I suppose that's a milestone in the relationship, when you get to do something with the kids without their dad."
Michael said, "Yeah, it's a milestone. And Sam and I may pass another one: I'm thinking about moving in with him."
I said, "Again? You two have been talking about that for months."
Michael said, "Yeah, but I mean it this time. Listen, can I ask you a very personal question?"
I said, "Is it a quickie or should we have coffee?"
"Coffee would be great," he said, looking relieved.
Once we were settled in lawn chairs on my back porch, me with coffee and Michael with coffee, a small glass of orange juice ("really, just the tiniest taste is all I need"), and two day-old bagels with scallion cream cheese ("are you sure you had breakfast?" I asked him), he said, "So, you and Sam are divorced."
"If we weren't," I answered, "it would be quite the scandal for him to be offering to live with you, wouldn't it?"
"Well," he said, "I wonder -- I know it's none of my business -- I met his parents last weekend."
"Oh, the Reissingers," I said. "They are good people. Wonderful grandparents. They still treat me like a daughter. How did you like them? I suppose after I've given them such a glowing review you can hardly say you thought they were obnoxious. I should have said, 'How did you like them?' and then only agreed with you when you said you liked them fine. How did you like them? Feel free to be honest."
Michael laughed. "I did like them. How could I not? They're so welcoming. We stayed overnight with them and they treated me like an old friend and, more importantly, like Sam's partner -- you know, put us in the guest room together and all that. But Mrs. Reissinger said something to me -- Louella, is Sam up-to-date on his child support?"
I said, "As much as he ever is."
"Which is to say, he's not."
I thought for a minute. "I hardly know whether I should tell you this. Have you asked Sam?"
"I did," Michael said. "I said to him last night after the boys were asleep, 'those are sure great kids. You're lucky to have them. I suppose them being such good kids makes having to pay support an easy burden to bear,' and Sam got all offended, said I was prying and his finances were none of my business. I said I thought they were my business, at least a little, if we were going to live together, and he said that, in any case, his kids were none of my business, which hurt my feelings because I feel like they're my business. I've spent every other weekend with them for more than six months, and I'm usually the one who gives them their baths and gets them to bed and plans things for us to do. If I could fall in love with Sam in that time, believe me it's twice as easy to fall in love with the kids. And I thought that if he were up-to-date on support, he'd tell me and not get so defensive."
"What did Mrs. Reissinger tell you?" I asked.
"She said they were glad to see Sam involved with such a steady, responsible young man, and that it seemed as if he'd put his money troubles behind him. I just nodded, but I hadn't known about any money troubles," Michael said. "Are they behind him, do you think? He won't talk about it. But I thought you could tell me, at least, whether he's paying his child support. I'm trying to resist the temptation to go through his desk."
"God, don't go through his desk!" I exclaimed. "It's a no-win situation. If you find that his finances are in great shape, you've violated his trust for nothing. And if you find that he's on the verge of bankruptcy and is only asking you to move in so you can share the expenses of the condo, then you've got the information you wanted but you can hardly confront him with it because you got it by sneaking. What I'm hearing you say is that you don't entirely trust Sam, and that may be more the issue than his credit card balances."
Michael nodded. "I hadn't thought his finances were any of my business -- we weren't planning to open joint accounts or anything like that -- but if he's getting into money trouble, that could affect us both if I'm living with him. And if he's not supporting his kids, he's not the kind of man I thought he was. I don't know what to do."
"You might tell him that this is a concern for you, and make sharing financial information a part of your decision-making process."
Michael shook his head. "I'm sure he won't agree to that. He'll say, 'Jesus, I'm not applying for a boat loan, here.'"
I laughed. "You've already had this conversation with him."
"Some of it," Michael said. "More than once."
I said, "Tomorrow is June first. He'll owe me a support check then. But he hasn't given me his May support check yet, and he only gave me half of April."
"And before that?" Michael asked.
I said, "For awhile, he had crapped out on me altogether. His parents were making the payments. Then they cut him off, and he was just about perfect for, oh, four months or so -- it was just about the time he started seeing you, and I thought that might be part of the reason. But since February he's been running a couple of months behind."
"But he's a good dad otherwise?" Michael asked.
I sighed. Sam has been seeing the boys regularly since he started dating Michael, who loves kids. Before that, he'd missed his visitation four times out of five. I've wanted to think that he really wants to be with the boys, and hasn't just been trying to impress Michael, but having just heard Michael say that he does most of the parenting when the boys are with them had only confirmed my suspicions. I said, "I think you have to judge that for yourself."
We sat for awhile, and then Michael said, "I wish I knew what to do."
I said, "My best advice is, don't be in a hurry. You don't have to make up your mind this minute to live with him or not. Maybe your worries are a sign that you need a little more time before you make that kind of commitment."
"I don't want to need a little more time. I want Sam to be perfect."
"I wish I could have told you that he is," I said, and on that note, we said good-bye.
I wandered inside, and found the boys on the couch watching a Brady Bunch rerun. Their duffel bags were on the floor. "C'mon, fellas," I said, "let's get you unpacked. I need to put a load of laundry in or you'll have to go to school in dirty clothes tomorrow."
I had started the laundry and was in the kitchen washing my weekend's dishes when Ed called. "Hey, Ella," he said. "You doing anything this afternoon?"
"Laundry," I said. "Dishes. Making beds. Vacuuming. Mowing the front lawn. Twelve minutes of quality time with my sons."
"So you're free, then," he said.
I laughed. "What did you have in mind?"
"I don't care," he said. "I just want to see you."
"You saw me last night," I said.
"It's been almost twelve hours!" he said.
"Nine of which you were, undoubtedly, sound asleep."
"You have no sympathy on my poor heart," he complained.
"Hey," I said, "I have gossip. Michael was here this morning and wanted to quiz me about Sam's child support payments. He got a hint that Sam's had money trouble and it worries him."
"Why don't you tell me all about it over lunch?" Ed said.
I said, "If you bring lunch for me and the boys, and you agree to help me make the beds and run the trimmer while I mow, you can come over. And if we get all the chores done, maybe we can go see The Borrowers at the second-run cinema this evening."
Ed said, "You're been a mother too long, Ella. You can't bribe me the same way you can the boys. The Borrowers doesn't quite do it for me."
I said, "I'll sit between you and the boys and you can put your hand on my thigh all during the show."
" High on your thigh," he said. "And not just sitting there. Fondling."
"No fondling," I said. "It's a family outing."
"Fingertips on the inside seam of your jeans," he said.
"Not with my boys sitting right next to me!" I huffed.
"Inside seam, or no deal," he said.
"Can't do it," I said. "Hand immobile on the front of my thigh is my best offer. Take it or leave it."
"You're a hard woman, Louella Reissinger," he said. "What should I bring for lunch?"
"Something wholesome. They're sure to have had junk all weekend at their dad's. Include something from the plant group, OK?"
"Louella, I'll never win their hearts if I bring brussels sprouts for lunch. It's almost as if you don't want them to like me."
I laughed. "OK, it doesn't have to be a green plant. A yellow vegetable will do, or even fruit. Satisfied?"
"Does strawberry ice cream count as a fruit?"
"Ed, the more time we spend on the phone, the longer it will be until we're together again. And my dishwater is getting cold and greasy by the minute. I'll see you when you get here, OK?"
I like Ed. But my talk with Michael got me thinking about what I don't know about him -- you may remember he once told me that he has something mysterious in his past that he doesn't want to talk about. I can't help wondering about it. Cocaine? Alcoholism? No, I'd recognize the signs of that one. Bankruptcy? Insider trading? Gambling? I can hardly imagine him engaging in any vice I can think of. I was thoughtful as I stacked dishes in the drainer. I had thought I could let it go, but maybe I do need to know the whole story.
© Copyright 1997-2001 Su Penn. Design by David Dierauer.
