Just 18 Summers

by Rene Gutteridge

  “She’s fine. Butch just . . .” She sighed, stirring the sauce, peppering it periodically. “He just has some adjustments to make.”

  “Man, Mom, if you died, Dad wouldn’t know what to do.”

  “Your dad would be fine,” Beth said with a small smile.

  “No, he wouldn’t. The time you and Aunt Jenny went on that weekend trip, he nearly killed Robin trying to put her hair up in a ponytail.”

  “How could you remember that? You were like three.”

  “I remember the screams.”

  “Hey, why don’t you go set the table really quick for me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Affable Chip, always willing to help.

  Despite her breakdown over graduation, Beth was actually feeling good today. When Robin called this morning to see if she could bring her friend for dinner, Beth realized again what a true blessing it was to have Robin home for a while. God knew. He always did. And Beth was glad. She and Robin had drifted apart a bit while she was off at college. Robin seemed restless, ready to explore the world, and Beth tried to let her. Now they could reconnect.

  A car pulled into the driveway and Chip went to the front window. “Robin and that guy are here.”

  “His name is Marvin. You’ve met him before, remember? A couple of months ago?”

  “Yeah, he was cool. Funny.”

  The door opened and Robin came in, her hair curled, wearing one of the prettiest blue dresses Beth had ever seen. “Hi, Mom,” she said, hugging her warmly.

  “Hi, Mrs. Anderson,” Marvin said.

  Robin elbowed him. “Call her Beth.”

  Marvin laughed. “Okay, hi, Beth. Thanks for having me over for dinner.”

  “Mom! What are you making? It smells amazing!”

  “Alfredo,” Marvin said. “I’d know that anywhere. One of the pizza places I work at makes an amazing Alfredo pizza.”

  “From scratch,” Beth said. “It’s Aunt Jenny’s recipe.”

  “Aunt Jenny’s the one who died a couple of months ago,” Robin said.

  “Sorry for your loss,” Marvin said, looking at Beth.

  “Thanks, sweetie. Well, dinner is almost ready. Have a seat at the table if you want. Drinks are in the fridge.”

  Larry was home right at seven, as he promised, and the food was waiting on the table. Beth greeted him at the door. “Our whole family together for dinner!” she said.

  “Plus one,” Larry said, casting a look toward the table.

  “You okay?” Beth asked. “You look pale.” And he had a small line of sweat at his hairline.

  “I’m fine, just hungry.” He set his briefcase down by the door and went straight to the table.

  Dinner was as delightful as Beth could’ve hoped for, and she realized just then that her life was in complete order. Maybe it hadn’t been for years, with chaotic schedules including her side jobs, Larry’s work, and the kids’ activities, but tonight, right at this moment, life was good, all the way down to what had to be the most perfect meal she’d ever cooked. Everyone commented about it. And they hadn’t even tried dessert yet!

  Beth decided to clear some dishes before bringing out the cobbler. She stood and gathered her plate and utensils, but Robin said, “Wait.”

  “I’m just getting some dishes out of the way to make room for the dessert.”

  “Before you do that, I need to tell you something.”

  Beth set the dishes down, remembering another time Robin uttered those same words. She was fifteen and by the grace of God had been filled with remorse for lying to them about where she’d been on Friday night. She was twenty-one now. By the delight on Robin’s face, Beth knew it was going to be something good this time. All kinds of possibilities flashed through her mind. She’d decided to go to med school? She’d started training for a marathon? Unbeknownst to them she’d invested in Apple stock?

  “What is it?” Beth asked. She glanced at Larry, who must’ve been remembering the lying incident too because he was the picture of dread.

  Robin gestured that Beth should sit, and then she stood, clasping her hands together as if she were about to make a speech to a large crowd. Chip glanced around. Larry was holding his knife like he was about to stab something. Nathan was texting or doing something with his thumbs and his phone. Beth kept her attention on Robin and every minute expression on her precious face.

  “Well,” Robin said, swaying back and forth with her hands now clasped behind her back, “I’ve actually been holding on to this news for a couple of days because I wanted Nathan to have his time to shine. . . .”

  Nathan looked up at the mention of his name.

  “But . . . ,” Beth said, gushing more than she intended. She was just really eager for some good news.

  “I’m getting married!” Robin’s arms shot into the air like somebody had scored a touchdown. The only one clapping was Chip.

  “To . . . ?” Beth couldn’t finish her sentence because her mouth wouldn’t close.

  “To Marvin,” Larry said, looking at his plate.

  “Of course to Marvin! Who else do you think it would be?”

  Marvin stood and wrapped his arm around her waist.

  If Beth didn’t have such an aversion to awkward silence, she would’ve still been frozen in a state of shock, but Robin’s hypergleeful expression was dropping by the second, so Beth did what she could to fill in the gap. “Oh!” she proclaimed, though it was so unspecific that Larry glanced down like he might’ve stepped on her toe. She forced a smile. “Oh, oh, oh!” She was going to have to move on to another letter of the alphabet, but she was still so stuck, so confused, so horrified. Weren’t they just friends?

  Larry took Beth’s hand and said, “Great!”

  Robin’s expression dialed back up as she glanced between them.

  “So great. So, so great. That’s the word I was looking for.” Beth held tightly to Larry. “When is the big day? To Marvin? To marry?”

  “August!”

  “Ahhhh . . . gust.” She thought it came out like a wheeze, but it was hard to tell because Robin was happy-screaming. Now she was holding out her hand, wiggling her ring finger.

  “Where’s the ring?” Nathan asked.

  Robin frowned. “Right there!” She wiggled her finger again. They all leaned in for a better look. Beth still couldn’t see it until Larry pointed out what looked like a string around her finger. Upon leaning in closer, she could tell it was metal, but she wasn’t sure it would survive a high five.

  “August . . . ,” Beth said again. “That’s two months away.”

  “I know this is kind of a shock. But Marvin and I have been good friends for a while and decided to take it to the next level and then realized we wanted to take it to the next level.”

  Beth was covering her mouth, hoping it looked like delighted shock. “We didn’t . . . we didn’t even know . . . you were dating.” Robin had brought Marvin home a couple of times, but it seemed more like a casual friendship. Robin hadn’t talked of love or anything close to it.

  “Good job holding our secret, Larry,” Marvin said with a wink.

  Beth’s mouth hung open as she looked at Larry. “You . . . you knew?”

  “No! I mean, not really. I mean, they dropped by my office and broke the news . . .”

  “Like the gentleman he is, Marvin asked for Dad’s permission.”

  “And you said . . . ?” Yes? “Yes, yes, yes . . .” Beth clapped lightly while pulling away from Larry.

  Robin shrieked again with delight and then started telling the story of how Marvin proposed.

  Beth said, “This definitely deserves dessert! Let me go get it!”

  In the kitchen, Beth held a dish towel to her mouth. She wanted to scream, but it was the kind that should only be done facedown in a pillow.

  Practically in a trance, she grabbed some dessert forks, forgot the dessert and circled back, then returned to the table.

  “I have more news.” Robin grinned, but it was the kind t
hat came with the edges of the mouth trembling a little.

  Beth sank into the empty chair at the far end of the table, the one nobody ever used.

  “I’m taking a break from college too.”

  The faint sounds of video game explosions filtered underneath the closed bedroom door. Beth and Larry had said their normal good nights to their children, but nothing was normal.

  Larry was in bed beside her, tucked under the covers, wearing the lightweight flannel pajamas Beth’s mother had gotten him for Christmas. Those hadn’t seen the light of day since they were opened Christmas morning.

  “Why the flannel?” Beth asked—not as flatly as she intended—as she clutched the sheets.

  “The what?”

  “The flannel. You’re wearing your flannel pajamas. In a heat wave.”

  “I am?” Larry looked down, rubbing his chest to double-check. “Oh.”

  Beth rolled to her side and stared at her husband, who was staring at the ceiling.

  “I didn’t see this one coming,” he said.

  “You saw it coming before I did. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “They wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, count me surprised out of my everlasting mind. Larry, she’s getting married. Three days ago she was in a car seat. And why is she dropping out of college?”

  “It’s like we lost two kids in one week,” Larry said. Beth noticed he was still wearing his watch, which he usually took off before bed. She heard the ticking, not with her ears but with her heart. Time, it seemed, had always been a blatant enemy of the human race, but now it was her own personal foe, and she never saw it sneak up on her.

  “She assured me after dinner that she was just taking a break,” Larry said. “She and Marvin want to work with inner-city kids or something—I don’t know. . . .”

  “How did we get here?” Beth breathed. “And Marvin? What do we know about this boy? He delivers pizza. He needs a haircut. That’s it. Were they really that serious? Did I miss something?”

  “He didn’t even ask my permission.” The slight warble in his voice was the only hint at that deep wound. “I mean, he did, but they were already planning to get married. Maybe it’s no disrespect. It’s the generation . . . the no-permission-needed generation.”

  Beth sighed. “That’s what you’re worried about, Larry? We hardly know this boy. She hardly knows this boy.”

  “I would’ve said no.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe not. He’s kind of likable.”

  “Kind of clueless, at least from what I can tell.” Beth rolled to her back. “Is this really what Robin wants for her life? To be married to a pizza man?”

  Larry took her hand. “Well, if I remember right, when we married, I was tossing newspapers. And not even real newspapers. Advertising newspapers that had lame coupons.”

  Beth tried to smile. “Yeah. But you didn’t like it. Marvin doesn’t seem to have any life goals besides pizza.”

  “He took her skydiving.”

  “No. Robin is terrified of heights.”

  “It’s true. That’s his other passion.”

  Beth flopped her arms over her face, trying to block the image of her little girl barreling through the air toward the ground. How could she have missed the signs? She didn’t dislike Marvin. In fact, she had actually liked him a lot the few times she’d met him, when she believed he was just a friend. She’d always pegged Robin’s future husband as someone like a dentist or an architect or a handsome man related to Steve Jobs. What could she possibly see in a guy whose name hit the height of popularity in 1922? “Every day of her life, as she walked out that door, I prayed over her little head—that she would be okay, that her feelings wouldn’t get hurt, that God would be by her side and take care of her in every way. Since her very first crush, I prayed for her soul mate.”

  Larry stared vacantly ahead. “It does something to a man, to know he has someone to take care of. Maybe Marvin’s testosterone will kick up a notch.”

  “Marvin isn’t the one.”

  “He isn’t?”

  “Her soul mate, Larry. He can’t be, right? A boy named Marvin Hood who sells pizza. That’s not her destiny.”

  “And she’ll be . . . ,” Larry started. He shook his head as if the words were too large to come out of his mouth. The next were whispered. “Robin Hood.”

  That fact alone caused a wash of nausea Beth hadn’t felt since she was pregnant.

  They lay in silence for a while. Beth replayed the dinner conversation over and over again in her head, hoping she’d misinterpreted something. Maybe buried under the joyous screams were subtle clues that Robin truly wasn’t happy about it. Beth had more gold in her fake china than was in that ring. Surely Robin had a bit of shallowness somewhere deep down inside her that made her wonder if she really could be happy with a string ring and a guy who smelled like pepperoni five days a week.

  “Come August,” Larry said, “we’ll be down to one child.”

  Beth had left the room. Not physically, but she was gone, retracing every important conversation she’d ever had with her daughter, burrowing into the words, wondering where she’d accidentally misguided her. Had they ordered pizza too much over the years?

  Beside her, Larry grabbed the aspirin bottle from his nightstand, the one they kept there in case of a heart attack. He popped one in his mouth. Maybe he was taking preventative measures.

  Beth sank lower into the bed, pulling the covers higher up her body. “I don’t think she knows about dryer sheets,” she said.

  Larry gulped the day-old water next to his bed. “Dryer sheets? I thought we were worried she was marrying the wrong guy.”

  “Yes, that. It’s all so clear, Larry. Don’t you see? She’s not ready for marriage to anybody, pizza man or banker.” Beth grabbed a pen and paper from her table. “She doesn’t know about bleach! She can’t sew on a button. She doesn’t know at what temperature a chicken breast can kill you.”

  “She’s got to get a degree. We’re going to have to insist on that.” Larry ripped the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

  Beth ignored him, hurriedly writing down everything she’d failed to teach her daughter. She’d thought she had time. Robin was just a kid, right? “She’s just a kid . . .”

  “What are our kids going to remember about us after they’re out of the house?” Larry said to the bedroom wall they’d been promising to paint for five years. “The TV shows we watched together?”

  “I need to show her about résumés and how to balance a checkbook. I also never taught her how to make an omelet.”

  “I haven’t done enough stuff with them.”

  “Marvin should know this about her. Does he even know she can’t cook?”

  “I have to make some memories.”

  “The omelet is essential, especially when you’re broke. It’s cheap. It’s protein. You can vary the ingredients and it feels like you’re having a different meal every time.”

  “We’re gonna do some stuff. Our family. Starting now.” Larry rose.

  Beth glanced up from her notes. “Like right now? It’s late.”

  “It’s never too late. That’s what Dr. Phil says.” He glanced at his watch. “Oh. Wow. It is late. But now I’m hungry.” He walked to her side of the bed, sat down, and took the paper and pen from her. “Now you’ve got me thinking about omelets.”

  Beth felt tired, but she could never resist that smile of his. “I thought you hated my omelets.”

  “I haven’t eaten one since the day I told you that if I had to eat one more, I was gonna puke.”

  “Because we ate them too much, not because they tasted bad.”

  “Yes. But time has passed and now it sounds good again.”

  “I should brush up, pay attention to my steps so I can show Robin.”

  “Perfect.”

  “You get the eggs out. I’ll be down in a second.” She cast him a mildly amused
look and a little wink, trying to hold down the hysteria she felt building inside her. Larry, she knew, was incapable of feeling hysteria. He barely worried, which was medically provable by blood pressure numbers that rivaled men half his age.

  Beth, on the other hand, had worried plenty over the years. But maybe she had worried in all the wrong places, about all the wrong things. She had worried about stains. And bills. And report cards. And all the things she thought she should—all the things the parenting magazines paid experts to write about. She’d bought books about how and what to pray over her children. It surprised her to find prayers about things like their attitude on personal hygiene. She’d never even considered that, but she prayed about it all.

  But she never thought to pray about a pizza boy named Marvin. She never saw it coming. How could she have seen that coming? Now her firstborn had ambitions to be a wife. And didn’t know a single way to make an egg.

  Beth burst into tears.

  CHAPTER 6

  DAPHNE

  DAPHNE AWOKE to the sounds of screaming. She sat straight up, glancing toward the open window, where a perfect breeze lifted and lowered the thin drapes she’d sewn herself three weeks ago. More screaming. This time it wasn’t a dream. She’d been having bad dreams, a lot of them lately. Some friends told her it was pregnancy hormones. She thought maybe she just missed Jenny. Whatever the case, she now had a real-life, pint-size nightmare on her hands.

  She angry-mumbled as she sat up on the edge of the bed. This wasn’t plain old everyday screaming. It was high-pitched screaming, the kind that caused heart attacks in old women and labor pains in pregnant women.

  Daphne grabbed her belly and sighed. Just Braxton-Hicks, but they were uncomfortable. How was she supposed to get any rest with these stupid false contractions and those kids running around like the world was ending?

  Poking her feet into her furry slippers, she stood and shuffled to the window, whipped the drapes back, and watched the four children running in the backyard of the house next to theirs. Lily, a precocious five-year-old whose pigtails resembled horns more often than not, kept screaming and running, screaming and running. The other kids giggled, but not Lily.