Sunday, January 2, 2011
(at Third Coast Spice Café, Chesterton, Indiana) “I need to know what you’re thinking about moving,” I ventured in bold voice, trembling in the chestal area.
My husband, really wanting to relax and debrief after the kids’ week-long holiday visit, jutted his head up. This is a man with androgens ready to surge through his system at any moment. “Moving where?” he queried. Heads turned. He slurped his Morning Blend.
“Alvin. We have been talking about this for three years. Moving to New Jersey! If we don’t get on it right now, we won’t get the house on the market by spring, and will lose another year.”
“Why do we want to move?”
I gape. Drop gluten-free toast. His blue eyes, blinking inquiry and inquisition at the same time, look so innocent. Unbelievable!
Now my voice draws glances. “How many times have we talked about this, and how recently? Just before Christmas—that’s 2 weeks ago!” I breathe. “My job is coming to a natural end. My mom has died, so I don’t need to be near her. I am lonely while you travel all over the country. You can work from anywhere…….”
“Do you know how much our monthly payments will go up if we move? We’re paying $375 now, INCLUDING TAXES!! We can’t rent OR buy for less than $800! And that’s not for a place we’d want to live in….”
“You always go back to that! People move! People do it—they move! All the time! And if we want to do it, we can. We are not poor! We make a good income, and we can move. We can find a way.”
The sigh and the head shake, along with the downward gaze, all come next. He’s on rewind. I’ve had it.
We eat in silence. People are still glancing over. I don’t care.