Sahm I Am - By Meredith Efken Page 0,93

with Tom’s cousin, which was nice, since it let us have some time to ourselves. After we ate supper under the pavilion, we went to put on our swimsuits. (No, I didn’t take Jeanine up on her idea of “bridesmaid swimsuits”—I bought a new one myself.) You should have seen Tom’s reaction to my suit! His eyes popped out and his face turned red.

Oh. Now he says I backed up too far. Picky, picky…

Fine, we’ll pick up the story after we’d tried out all the water slides and the wave pool. Tom asked me the question I’d been dreading all weekend. Did “he” call?

“Who?” I asked. (Yes, yes, I knew who he was talking about—he wants me to make that clear.) The guy at church. The…HOT one.

“Oh,” I replied. “That one. Actually, yes.”

“And?” (There were about fifty question marks after the word when he said it, but I didn’t want to put all those in an e-mail.)

I told him that I explained to poor Travis that he’d misunderstood me, that I was married, and happily so.

“You lied to him.”

“Did not!”

“You’re really happily married to me?”

Ouch. Well, since he mentioned it, hmm…not so much, actually. So anyway, we got into this big argument about why he left for Alaska, why he stayed away so much in KC and whether or not I wished I was free to go out with Travis.

The answers he gave were as follows: because I wanted him to, and because I didn’t need him.

The answer I gave was the following: of course I didn’t wish I was free to date Travis, I hardly even knew the guy, why would I trade in a committed, loving relationship for something so totally wrong, and the only reason it was tempting for even a moment was that I was lonely and missing Tom and tired of feeling like I was raising the kids on my own while he was away all the time, and I didn’t understand why he would choose to be away when he had a family waiting for him who loved him and missed him.

(Tom wants to know why it is possible for a guy to answer two questions in a quarter of the space it takes for a woman to answer one. Well…duh! Right, girls?)

So anyway, BIG FIGHT. We started yelling at each other, and everybody was listening and staring. So Jeanine (arrayed in bridal swimsuit of cream, with seed pearls, sequins and satiny skirt) and Morris (in a black Speedo…eww) stormed over and ever-so-politely suggested we join them for the cake cutting.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get the hint. All the way over, it was “You’re too independent!” “Don’t have a choice when you’re always gone.” “All you want from me is a paycheck every two weeks.” “WHATEVER.” (Tom says that was my weakest comeback of the evening, and I must agree. Maybe I’m losing my touch.)

So we got over to the cake table. Jeanine had donned a cream-colored pareo over the swimsuit, and Morris had tugged on some shorts, thankfully. While they cut their piece and fed each other, Tom and I carried on an under-our-breath argument:

“You think I’m incompetent.”

“Do not.”

“Do, too—you even told your friends you thought I was in the way.”

“No, it’s just that it had been so long since you were home all the time, I’d forgotten what it was like.”

Morris cleared his throat, looking meaningfully at us. We smiled and continued muttering.

“What it was like? You mean how unbearable it was.”

“How should I know if it was unbearable or not? It hardly ever happened!”

Jeanine said, “Are you two finished?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Tom looked back at me. “All I’m saying is that I prefer to be where I feel appreciated and where I can make a valuable contribution.”

“And all I’m saying is that it’s hard to make a valuable contribution when you’re not around.”

He grabbed my arm. “You aren’t listening to me, Dulcie.”

“Oh yes, I am, Tom. I hear you loud and clear. You want to be involved in the family, but you’re running away, just like your dad.”

Well, I heard Jeanine give a little strangled yelp, and Tom’s face got beet red. I tried to yank my arm away, but he held on too tight. The next time I pulled, he suddenly let go and I stumbled backward.

Right into the cake table. One table leg collapsed and I fell to the ground. I remember it almost like slow motion…the cake slid off the table. Onto my head! The top layer landed in my