“So just do your best. They’ll realize that it’s all you can do, and they might stop tormenting you. If not, just remember that you only have about twenty-five hundred more miles to go.”
“Thanks, Henry,” I respond, although that really doesn’t help my current situation.
“How are things going with Wren? She in love with you yet?”
I stumble and drop the gallon of milk I’d picked up for breakfast, to go with the sugary cereal that’s terrible for them. I pick it up and put it in my cart. “Not even close,” I say.
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, I put her in a car with four screaming children who aren’t ours, and then I made her drive until she was exhausted. Then I left her alone with them while I went out alone.”
“It’s not like you’re at a titty bar. You’re at the grocery store, dummy.”
“Still,” I say, “I had better get back.”
I load up my cart with snack food, get baby formula, drinks for the cooler, and things to make sandwiches, and the whole time Henry is telling me about the strange character he met at work today. Henry’s the best storyteller I’ve ever met. I laugh in spite of my dire situation.
“You done shopping yet?” Henry asks as I peruse the ice cream freezer.
“Not yet. Wren wants ice cream, but I don’t know what kind’s her favorite.”
“The blue container with the walnuts and the chocolate caramel sauce,” he says. “That’s her favorite.”
Deep down, I feel like I should know these things.
“You’re asking yourself why you don’t know this already, aren’t you?” Henry says.
“Stop doing that, Henry. It freaks me out.”
“You don’t know it because you haven’t spent years learning all this stuff. I can still remember when my Nan and I had been married about twenty years, and someone asked me what her favorite perfume was. I had no idea, even though I knew it was the same kind of perfume that got me all hot and bothered, if you know what I mean.”
I grimace. “Unfortunately, I know exactly what you mean,” I say.
“The lesson here is that even after twenty years together, there were still things I didn’t know. There were a lot of things I had to learn, even toward the end. So, don’t feel bad if you don’t know the little details yet. It doesn’t mean much, except that it’s good, because it means you want to know the little things. And it’s the little things that matter. The kind of song she sings in the shower…”
“Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” I think to myself.
“How she likes her eggs…”
I have no idea how she likes her eggs.
“How many people would she kill for a piece of bacon.”
All of them. That one I’m sure of. I turn my cart to get some precooked bacon for breakfast.
“Marriage is about discovering all the little things, Mick. It’s part of the fun of it.”
“Am I rushing things, Henry?” I ask. I shouldn’t, but I am.
“There’s no such thing as rushing feelings of joy and happiness. We all seek those feelings, and when you find someone who brings you joy, you want to see more of her. Now, if you’re jumping into bed, that I’d be concerned about.”
I say nothing. Because I’m standing in front of the condom section, since Wren glanced at the bed and then at me, and told me to get everything we needed.
“Aw, hell,” Henry says. “You’re thinking about jumping into bed with her.”
I heave a sigh. “I don’t think about much else, Henry.” Might as well be honest. “Did you feel that way about Nan?”
“Only every day of my life, young man. So, don’t ever be ashamed of wanting to rip her clothes off and throw her on the floor.”