Just A Quiet Sunday

Just a Quiet Sunday

It was a beautiful day, the sun was washing everything with its golden light, as a light breeze was fanning the trees. Spring had finally gotten around to making its presence known and the trees had started to bud and lawns were showing signs of needing to be mowed.

Mark and Eileen Anderson, as they do every Sunday, got in their non-descript 6 year old Oldsmobile and headed to the in-laws for brunch. It was not Mark’s choice of what to do, but going to Steve and Pam’s was something they hadn’t missed in all their years of marriage except when Eileen had been in the hospital with pneumonia three years ago. That was the nicest Sunday he’s ever had. He’d spent it with his ass firmly ensconced in his favorite recliner, watching all the football games, and in complete control of the remote. Ah, memories.

Mark and Eileen never turned on the radio in their car and he wondered idly if the darn thing still worked. Mark didn’t even so much as glance at his wife as he backed the car out of the driveway, but pretended to himself that today was going to be different. Today was the day that he’d drive all the way to Jackson without Eileen saying a word.

He heard her indrawn breath and knew she was about to burst his bubble.

Every time. Every single time he backed out of the drive, she had to say it. Never once in 23 years of marriage did she fail in that regard and Mark knew she wasn’t going to disappoint this time.

“Don’t hit the mailbox, Mark.” Geez, had he ever hit the damn thing, ever? No, never.

Exasperation colored his voice as he looked over at Eileen and said, “Have I ever hit the damn thing? You tell me that every time I back out and I’ve never hit it yet.”

“Of course, not, Mark. Because I tell you to watch out for it every time. If I didn’t say that, you’d probably plow it over and drag it half-way to mom and dads.”

Mark cocked an eyebrow at her as he muttered invectives under his breath. Here we go again, he thought, same song, next verse.

“Eileen. I’ve been driving for more years than I care to admit. I’ve never had an accident, speeding ticket or knocked over even one unsuspecting mailbox.”

Her expression was innocent as she turned towards him, a half smile on her slightly lined 45 year old face. “You just don’t get it do you? Without me telling you how to drive, you would be posing for a mug shot, taking out a second mortgage on our home to pay for high risk insurance, and riding a moped to work.” Smugly she said, “You really should be thanking me for saving your droopy ass.”

“My ass isn’t droopy. I have a very nice ass for my age and I resent everything you’ve said today from the minute you said ‘good morning’ to me and including your snide remarks about my ass.” Feeling somewhat superior at that moment, Mark allowed himself a second to give Eileen a sideways glance of his own. “And you can’t exactly bounce quarters off your ass either.”

“Maybe not, dear, but I wasn’t the one who is so much in denial about getting my eyes checked that I misread a phone number and ended up calling a phone sex operator.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. But so what? Anyone could have made that mistake.”

Her voice dripping with sarcasm, Eileen said, “Of course, but not everyone would have racked up $5.10 in charges for a wrong number. Want to explain that one, Einstein?”

Mark didn’t want to explain that one and decided that silence was the only defense he had left. Not that it was a defense, but he wasn’t willing to admit that the $5.10 had been worth it and it hadn’t been a mistake.

“Watch it, Mark, that guy up there is putting on his brakes.”

A heavy sigh escaped Mark’s lips before he could stop it and Eileen’s head whipped around as she gave him a hard glare.

“What was that for?” She asked.

“What was what for?” Mark wanted to know.

“That sigh, that’s what. Why did you sigh like that?”

“It was just a sigh, Eileen. It was nothing.” Mark sighed again.

“There you go again. What’s up with you today anyway?”

“Nothing’s wrong, dear. Everything’s just fine.” If Mark had learned anything over the last 23 years it was not to argue with his wife. Arguing with Eileen was like pulling the pin on a live grenade. If he got tired and gave up, he was toast.

Mark could see that Eileen thought he was full of shit and just placating her and she was right. Maybe he was having some kind of mid-life crisis or male menopause or something. He wasn’t usually prone to causing any strife in their marriage. Good old Mark Anderson, male doormat.

As they neared his in-laws home, he wondered how Steve and Pam had managed to stay married for almost 50 years. Did they have these tired little squabbles? Maybe he’d ask Steve about that. On second thought, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. He is Eileen’s father after all. No, better not.

Standing on the porch of her parent’s house, waiting for someone to open door, Eileen couldn’t help giving Mark just one more instruction. “Now don’t you and dad go off by yourselves and leave me and mom alone like you always do.”

Mark pasted a smile on his worn and weary face just as the door pulled open and said, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t dream of doing that.” Yeah, right.