Conrad was munching on a chunk of lettuce. He stopped chewing. “Bobbi Jo, honey, that is just not true. I just had a change of heart and mind is all. So stop trying to paint me as the bad guy. I do not want to talk about this on national television.”
The children’s faces were covered with the red and brown slime of the Sloppy Joes. They stopped eating and Jefferson said, “Is Daddy a bad man, Mommy?”
Conrad looked away from the meat-covered faces in distaste. Sadie leaned down to whisper something in Conrad’s ear.
Irving put a diaphanous hand on Sadie’s arm. “Sadelah, he doesn’t need your two cents.”
“He needs something from someone,” she said.
“No Jefferson, I’m not a bad man. No one is bad. Your mom’s just a little upset with me lately.” He patted Jefferson’s springy hair. “Bobbi Jo, I love you and the kids. You know that. I went to church because I believed then but I stopped going because I saw no proof of what the ministers were telling us. I’m a scientist. It is not rational to think that some mythical being created all this out of nothing. If that’s the case who created God? I base my beliefs on rational thinking and facts. Can’t you understand that?”
“God created God, of course. Ask me a hard one. What I understand is that I’m going to heaven with the children and your eternal soul will be damned to the fires of hell for all eternity. You won’t be there with me and the children,” Bobbi Jo wailed. The children looked up in fear, their mouths big round red O’s, like targets.
Little Ruthie screamed, “I’m not going anywhere without Daddy. Daddy, why aren’t you coming with us? I’m not going to heaven if Daddy’s not coming.”
“You see what you’ve done?” Bobbi Jo said. “This proves my point.”
Tyler Sue, sensing all was not right with her world, began shrieking like a small pig.
“Oy,” said Irving. “It’s like World War II around here.”
“I think you’d better step out for some air, Connie,” Sadie said in Conrad’s ear.
Conrad rose, threw his napkin on the table and walked out the back door.
One month later, things between Conrad and Bobbi Jo had not improved and Bobbi Jo counted off the days on the calendar until they left for the Dr. Phil Show. Sadie and Irving had been trying to coach them on compromise, flexibility and priorities but were having little to no effect.
“What if we cause one of the kids to have a little accident and then Conrad and Bobbi Jo
will have to work together to cope,” Irving suggested.
“Forget it. Number One will never go for it.”
“Nothing serious. Just a stomach ache that looks like appendicitis.”
“Ganug already. Her Holiness doesn’t believe the end justifies the means.”
“We could always pray.”
Sadie made a face. “Nah. I have an idea. Come,” Sadie beckoned.
They went into the kitchen where a white board hung on the sunny yellow wall. Sadie focused all her energy in order to pick up the red marker near the board. She drew a large red heart and put Bobbi Jo and Conrad’s names in the center. Then in black marker, she wrote, “No matter what you do or say, I will always love you.”
Irving opened his hands and splayed his fingers. “Can’t hoyt.” He smiled. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”
That evening, Conrad was in his study. He’d smelled the aroma all the way from his study, a smell that would have made his mouth water a few months ago but now was an odor that curdled his stomach and his heart. She was doing it again. Intentionally. Meat.
Conrad rose from the cushioned study chair and entered the kitchen.
“What are you making for dinner?” he said sweetly. It was not an innocent question but meant to provoke. The sides of her short blond bob were falling into her eyes as she stirred the pot and he picked a lock of hair up and stuck it behind her ear. She shook her head.
“You know very well what I’m cooking in this pot. And I know that you know. It’s spaghetti meat sauce. Your favorite.”
“Was my favorite.” He paused. “Are you still angry with me about that?”
“I am angry with you about a lot of things, mainly your qualms about the existence of God. It’s unthinkable. And if you think writing lovey-dovey mush is going to make this all better between us, think again.”
Mazel Tov on being a published author.
Al