Four Friends

“Aw, Jesus, Gerri—come on, let’s not do this. For a minute there we were actually friends.”

“There it is again. It’s like I’m doing it to you.”

“What if I let you hook electrodes to my balls and just fire away until you think I’ve paid? How about that? Huh?” he asked, giving in to his own anger.

She smiled at him and started walking backward. “Tempting, Phil. But I’m just going to try to resolve my problems with the situation. Thanks for helping me out tonight. Talk to you later,” she said. Then she hit the electric garage door button and closed him out.

He’d never get it. It wasn’t just the other woman. It was him needing the other woman. It made her feel not good enough. It bit so deep, she ached with it.

* * *

If it was true that men married their mothers, Gerri would be proud. Muriel Gilbert was on her short list of most admired women.

Phil had two younger brothers, both married. One lived back east, one in San Diego. Muriel and Stan Gilbert kept a small condo in Scottsdale, but they spent much of their time in other locales. They made use of time shares they’d had for years and owned modest investment properties in Boulder, Maui and San Miguel, Mexico, that they leased to vacationers when they weren’t using them. That, and homesteading with each of their sons for weeks at a time.

Having been married as long as she had, Gerri had heard a million stories about the worst mothers-in-law on the planet, but hers was the best. Muriel had embraced Gerri as a daughter the second they met and proved to be a fantastic grandmother who was devoted but didn’t get in the way too much. She was very careful to follow second to Gerri’s mother after the births and never pressured them for visits, for time. They started out as friends, for which Gerri had been so grateful. But then Gerri’s own mother died and had it not been for Muriel, she wouldn’t have gotten through it. Muriel came immediately, skipping her summer in Maui, and stayed on, getting Gerri and the family past that horrendous period, and then came back when Gerri’s father was dying, and again, helped them pull things together. But the time after all that was probably the most significant. Muriel stepped in as the mother Gerri had lost. Friendship yielded to kinship and Gerri adored and respected her.

Muriel and Stan were spending the spring in Mexico and they called every weekend to talk to the kids. Gerri knew it was only a matter of time before someone slipped, mentioned that Mom and Dad weren’t living together at the moment. Gerri was pretty sure Phil hadn’t dealt with his family on this issue—all his energy seemed focused on making it go away. So she called Mexico.

“I have some news that’s going to startle you, so be sure you’re sitting down.”

“I’m sitting,” Muriel said. “What is it?”

“Phil and I have separated. We have some problems.”

Gerri heard a whoosh of air on the line, probably the sound of Muriel sitting down. “Merciful heavens,” she said weakly. “What on earth?”

Gerri took a breath. “The kids know the bare facts, so it’s only reasonable that you do. I just learned that years ago he had an affair, one that lasted two years. He admits it, he’s sorry, he’ll do absolutely anything to atone, but honestly, Muriel...Well, it was me. I asked him to sleep somewhere else for the time being. While we both get a little counseling. That’s the best I can do.”

“An affair?” she asked in a breath. “Phil?”

“That was my exact reaction.”

“Of all my sons... Oh, hell, of all the men I know, I would’ve judged Phil to be the last!”

“I know. Please,” Gerri said earnestly, “please don’t blame me.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, of course not! Listen to me, Geraldine—humans have lapses in judgment and when they do, it’s their own burden. I hope you’re not taking this on. As if there was any way you could’ve headed this off!”

“Maybe if I’d been more...amorous.”

“Right,” Muriel said with a snort. “And you’d have been too damn tired to work, carpool the kids and see everyone fed and clothed. Then he’d have to have found another woman for that! The stupid fool! He made a mistake! Sooner or later you’ll have to let it be his mistake. Lord, I think I might kill him.”

Gerri felt her eyes well up. “Thank you, Muriel,” she said softly.

“Don’t thank me for making sense. I just hope he finds a way to win you back because if he loses you, he will have lost the best thing that ever happened to him. And don’t make it too easy for him.”

“Believe me—”

“All the same, think carefully,” Muriel said. “I know he’s not perfect and now I know he’s also not that intelligent, but do think this through. It will be hard for you to find a man who’s truly your equal and while I don’t know anyone more capable, life alone can be dreary. And sad. Very sad. Punish him as much as you need to, but dear girl, don’t be hasty.” Then she took a breath and muttered, “The ignorant fool!”

“It’s already pretty dreary,” Gerri said. “Muriel, thank you for not blaming me. Thank you for not saying I should just get over it, since it was years ago.”

“All I have to say to you, darling, is thank you for letting the stupid fool live. I hate him at the moment, but he’s still my son. No longer my favorite son, but I think I’ll probably go on loving him even though he apparently doesn’t have a brain in his head.”

“Oh, Muriel, I do love you.”

“Do you need me? Should I come?”

“No. I think we should try to carry on this way for now. He’s spending some time around here, in close touch every day if not always present, and he’s doing everything he can. We should let things simmer awhile. I have things to figure out and I can’t be distracted. But thank you.”

“If you need me, you have only to call. I’ll come at once.”

Gerri laughed into the phone. “That would serve him right,” she said. “His mother and his wife on his case.”

“Yes. I can’t think of anything more likely to make him wish he were dead.”

* * *

Bob was already at work in Andy’s kitchen when she got home from school at five o’clock. She positively sparkled when she saw him. “Hey,” she said brightly. “You’re getting an early start!”

“I’m laying down the ceramic tonight. You’re going to have to stay off it for twenty-four hours. It could slide the grout.”

“Okay. Did you have dinner?”

“I grabbed something on the way over,” he said.

“I’m starting to think you’re afraid I might poison you.” She laughed. “I offer every night, but you’ve always already eaten.”

He stood straight and grinned, patting his firm, round stomach and treating her to that hypnotic grin of his. “Look at me, Andy. You think I’ve missed many meals?”

“You look healthy,” she said.

“That’s not what the doctor says.”

“What? Is your doctor worried about you?”

“Everything seems to be holding, but he’s convinced I’m overweight and headed for a coronary. That’s why I try to stay away from him. I feel fine most of the time.”

“Most of the time?” she asked, suddenly stricken with worry.

“Doing the work I do, my back and knees kick up sometimes. I’m fine. My age, you get aches and pains.”

“Do you mind if I ask—just how old are you?”

“Fifty-three. Getting up there.”

“Well, you’re just a few years older than me,” she said, opening her takeout carton on the dusty table.