Three

One of the great mysteries of Sarah’s life was present in her house every day: why did he just tolerate all the weirdness that went on between Kathy and Dottie? Did he think it was normal to live one block from his mother-in-law? Did he think it was normal that they talked on the phone more than a dozen times each day? Did he care what other people thought, too? She was in her early twenties when she finally got the nerve to ask.

“It’s hard to explain,” he said, his face impassive. She couldn’t tell if he’d given it lots of thought and didn’t really have a defined answer, or if her question was one that had never occurred to him.

“How hard can it be?” Sarah asked.

“There’s an easy way and a hard way,” he explained. “Convincing your mother that we should live in a better town with better schools, a town that’s not within walking distance of her mother… that’s the hard way. Agreeing to buy this house because she wanted it... that’s the easy way.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked. “You seriously think that it’s better to let her walk all over you and get her way than having to sometimes make compromises that are good for someone other than her?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a house, Sarah. It’s not worth fighting about.”

“I don’t get it. Not at all.”

“There’s enough stress in the world without fighting at home. I just think it’s better to keep the peace wherever possible.” He patted her on the back and headed out to the garage. He occupied most of his free time with woodworking projects, the likes of which you would see at craft fairs or church markets. He made simple wooden cars for kids, napkin holders and key racks, even small coat racks. It had started with a handful of items for around their house, but had grown to be much more than their small house could accommodate. He started with a single table at the local Presbyterian craft and jumble sale, and had sold out before lunchtime. Now he had a following, and people would call to see if he would be selling at the county fair or the school’s Christmas craft show. His cars were always a big hit: Volkswagen Beetle-shaped cars in light-colored wood with four dark wooden wheels attached with dowels. Kids loved them. Sarah remembered playing with hers even when she was much too old for “little kid” toys like that. Seeing one always brought back fond memories of snow days or other unexpectedly delightful bonus days off.

She could watch him work for hours as he cut, sanded and stained the wood. She grew up with a fondness for the smell of sawdust, and even as an adult she would catch herself taking a deep whiff as she walked through the lumber section of Home Depot.

When she graduated from college, he presented her with a beautiful queen-sized headboard and footboard, hand carved with beautiful multi-colored wood. She certainly didn’t have room for a bed of that size in her childhood bedroom, and much to her dismay her entry level research assistant position didn’t pay enough to allow her to move out of her parents’ home (not that this sort of thing would have been permitted anyway). Steve had set up the bed frame in the living room while she was on her way back from college, and Sarah marveled at its handiwork.

“I know that you won’t need it right away,” he said, “but I’ll keep it in the shop until you’re ready. I hope you like it.”

“Wow, Dad! I really love it! This must have taken forever to make. Mom, isn’t it beautiful?”

Kathy stood to the side of the room with her arms crossed. “When did you bring this in here?” she asked.

“This morning,” Steve said.

Kathy looked furious. “Steve! Don’t you know that someone might have seen you?”

“Someone did. Wayne Davis was over at his mother’s place and helped me to move it inside. It was pretty heavy.”

“Oh! That’s just great!” Kathy looked distraught. “Old Mrs. Davis has probably been on the phone with half the neighborhood by now.”

“About what?” Sarah asked.

“Sarah, do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Obviously so.”

“Your father made you a queen-sized headboard.” There was a pause, and Kathy could tell that it wasn’t sinking in. “For a queen-sized bed! Do you know who has a queen-sized bed?”

“The… uh… queen?” Sarah asked, knowing that it would incur her mother’s wrath.

“Couples!” her mother bellowed. “No doubt Mrs. Davis has told all of her friends that we are condoning sex in our house.”

“What?” Steve and Sarah exclaimed in unison.

“I have to make some calls and fix this mess.”

“Why would someone automatically assume that? Just because it’s a bed that can fit two people doesn’t mean that two people are sleeping in it. I mean, you can just as easily have sex in a twin….” Sarah began.

“I do NOT want to know what can or cannot be done in a twin bed, and I don’t know why you know these things. Just what were they teaching you at that college?”

The telephone rang, and all three knew who was on the other end of the line, even before answering. “You get it,” said Sarah to her mother. “I’m sure that she doesn’t want to talk to the neighborhood whore or her enabling father.”

“Sweet jesus, I’ll never hear the end of this,” Kathy muttered on her way to the phone. “This is all your fault!” she said, pointing at Steve. “Hello?” she said sweetly. The prolonged silence told them everything they needed to know about the phone call. “No, mother, the bed isn’t for now. It’s a wedding present, for when Sarah gets married.” Pause. “No, I don’t know why he felt it necessary to show her now. He must have just finished. Maybe he was excited about the project.” She listened for a long time, looking panicked. “No, Mother. I don’t think that any of this will be a reflection on you.” Another long pause. “Mother, I don’t think that’s necessarily true. Anyone who knows our family will know that this is not the case. Mother?” She replaced the receiver with a bang. “Great job, Steve. My mother hung up on me. I hope you’re happy now.” She stormed off to her room and slammed the door.

Steve turned to Sarah. “So, uh, welcome home.”

“Yeah, thanks Dad.” She paused to run her hand over the smooth wood one more time. “It really is beautiful.”

“Yeah, well… back to the workshop it goes. You’d better get married and move out of here soon. You don’t want it to sit around and warp.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to rush into something in order to give it a safe home.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I do.” He carefully wrapped the parts in blankets to protect it during transit. “I wonder if there’s anyone else in the neighborhood that I can drag into this sordid little tale. Maybe I’ll go see if Mark is home. That would annoy your mother even more.”

“Oh god, Dad. Not Mark. I think Mom’s still having one of her fights with Diane.”

“Yes, but Diane doesn’t know that,” Steve pointed out. “That’s the thing with Mom’s fights: they’re all one-sided. None of the rivals know that they’re engaged in battle.”

“How does anyone ever know if they won or lost these battles?” Sarah asked.

“I think that your grandmother might be the ultimate arbiter of these things. It’s over when she tells your mother that it’s over. But you know the truth as well as I do. Nobody wins. Well, someday there will be a shrink who will make a killing off of all this, but no normal, everyday people will win. Don’t be silly.” He headed for the front door. “I’m going to go see if Mark is home. Keep your fingers crossed that he is.”

“Not too passive-aggressive, are you?” Sarah asked with a laugh.

“Who? Me?” Steve gave her a smile and headed out the door.

Sarah headed for the fridge to find some iced tea. She was rummaging through old Tupperware containers, looking for a snack, when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Sarah. I’d heard you were coming home today.” It was Mrs. Davis. “Wayne says that your new bed is just beautiful. Your father does such beautiful work.”

“Yes, he does,” Sarah agreed. “But it’s not my bed yet. There’s not nearly enough space in my bedroom for a bed of that size.”

“No matter,” said Mrs. Davis. “It’s better to have furniture that you grow into than out of.”

“At this point in my life, I suppose that’s true. My childhood bedroom furniture certainly won’t be anything I’ll take with me when I can afford to move out.”

“Oh, I envy young people today,” said Mrs. Davis. “I always wished that I could have lived on my own for a little while. Just to see what it was like. You know, when I was young enough to appreciate it.”

“Well I hope you’ll be able to live vicariously through me soon,” said Sarah. “Although I can’t see my mother ever allowing that to happen. People might talk.”

Mrs. Davis laughed hard enough to start a coughing fit. When she recovered, she told Sarah, “Your mother worries too much about other people’s opinions. You’re good people. Everyone knows it. Sometimes you need to just let loose and live a little.” Mrs. Davis had a good chuckle.

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind. Did you call to speak to my mother?”

“No, dear, I called to welcome you home. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, but all of us here in the neighborhood are happy to have you back.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Davis. I appreciate that. I’ll see you soon.”

She hung up the phone and wondered what her mother would have thought of that conversation. She decided not to find out.