Gruen, Julie

English

Denison University

Exile Volume 37 Number 1 Article 28 1991 And It Was Sunday Julie Gruen Denison University Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.denison.edu/exile  Part of the Creative Writing Commons Recommended Citation Gruen, Julie (1991) "And It Was Sunday," Exile: Vol. 37 : No. 1 , Article 28. Available at: https://digitalcommons.denison.edu/exile/vol37/iss1/28 This Article is brought to you for free and open access by the English at Denison Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Exile by an authorized editor of Denison Digital Commons. And It Was Sunday For one human to love another, that is perhaps the most difficult of all our casks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. Rainer Maria Rilke Meredith woke to the sound of a morning rain pattering on the roof above her head. Wind billowed the curtains as it came through the window. She turned her face to feel the breeze. The sheets had been tossed about the bed during the night because of the hot, wet air that hung heavily in late summer. John lay sleeping on his side at her right. His chest, arms, and one leg were freed of the sheets, victorious in the battle for comfort that waged silently through the night. Meredith turned, molding her body to his large form. He grunted, rolled onto his stomach, and buried his head among the pillows. "Morning," she said, the word cracking through a small part in her dry lips. John mustered a grunt and Meredith watched as his shoulders rose and fell from the depths of the pillows. She tousled his hair, kissed his cheek, and then padded to the bathroom. Steam rose from their coffee mugs as they sat in silence, each with a section of the paper. It was Sunday and they were always lazy on undays. "What's the fourth letter of the Greek alphabet?" John asked. He bent over a crossword puzzle and chewed on a pen. "Beta or Gamma? or is it Delta?" Meredith began clearing the breakfast dishes. "Delta, it's Delta," she called from the sink. She stopped a moment and looked at her husband. He was bent over the table, his head supported by his left hand, long fingers appearing among the dark curls of his tousled hair. John filled in the squares with a satisfied grin. "I don't know why you like those things," she said over the rushing faucet water. John continued the puzzle in silence. "The house could be burning to the ground," she went on saying, "and you would not leave that table to save your life before finishing a puzzle." "Oh Ditty, you know that's not true. I would take it WITH me and 1 finish it outside so it wouldn't burn. THEN maybe I would come in to find you. " "Oh, bestill my heart, my hero ," she swooned. John went to the sink and encircled her from behind. "Don't get m wrong. I wouldn't come to SAVE you," he said, bending to kiss her neck, "I just need your help with the tricky ones like the Greek alphabet. " "Get out! " she yelled, laughing. "Well Meredith, I need some diversion to help me choke down your breakfasts every morning." He pecked her cheek and dodged from the kitchen as she raised a wet fist covered with soap. "I love you!" he called from the stairs as he went up two-by-two. Meredith's hands pruned in the warm water and she added more soap to the already filled sink. She washed, rinsed, and rewashed the dishes, not wanting to lift her hands trom the white bubbles, Like a child, she lifted a handful of suds and blew them upwards, watching as the dispersed and then fell wet onto the countertop. She could hear John upstairs, the floor boards creaking as he moved about the room. She could picture him in her mind as he first started th shower, walked to the bedroom to undress, and then returned to th bathroom to shave, standing naked before the sink and racing against th steam as it crawled onto the mirror. Meredith never understood this morning ritual, but knew it by heart and that it would never change. Later she would go upstairs and pick up his crumpled boxer shorts and pajama bottoms from the floor at the end of the bed and throw them in the bathroom hamper. "Morning Ditty!" The familiar voice sang out over the phone and Meredith smiled at the nickname she had created for herself as a child. "Hi Mom. Well, how was it? I want to hear everything!" "Meredith," she gasped, "it was divine! We could not have had a more beautiful evening . The food was delicious and the guests .. . almost everyone attended ... no, the Wexlers were out of town , but anywho, everyone stayed until at least one a.m .. Your father is exhausted today. I am too, but oh! So thrilled it was such a success!" "Oh Mom, they always are! I am glad you had such a wonderful time. Things sound as if they went smoothly, no broken glasses or fallen desserts?" "Not a one." Meredith laughed as she remembered the first time John attended the "Fabulous Franklin Affair" as he now referred to the annual summer's end party thrown by her parents. It was the Fall of their last year at Gettysburg and Meredith's mother had insisted on John coming to the party before he and Meredith left for school. 2 John was completely overwhelmed as Meredith knew he would be. Following an entire day of preparations including florists and caterers, John realized this was not a simple cocktail party. Meredith tried to make him feel at ease but was more humored by his fascination. c, That evening, Meredith's mother maneuvered John around the party, introducing him to every guest there. It was on the long drive to school that he finally expressed his shock and began to feel comfortable again r after the tedious hours of small talk, smiles and handshakes. e "It was unreal!" he laughed. "How can you take those people seriously Meredith? 'Oh Ditty, dear!'" He extended a bent wrist and fluffed unaginary hair under his ear. "'How ARE you? Oh! And this is HIM! I've ~ heard SO much about you, eh, Jim, is it? Oh aren't you two just IT! Ditty, e he's ADOR - A - BLE!' or how about, 'DITIY! You have GROWN! Harold, Harold, HA OLD! Hasn't Ditty gotten to be such a ... oh never mind! Harold just never listens! But Meredith, you look great. I remember when you were THIS big!' " John and Meredith laughed their way across Pennsylvania as they remembered the party. Meredith's mother's voice interrupted her reveries. "So, how are you? I see on the news that you have rain." "Oh, it's so ugly. John and I are having a rather lazy day, keeping in r from the rain .... " "How is John, dear? Are you two getting along all right?" It was an odd question after four happy years of marriage, but one that Meredith's mother never failed to ask. It used to anger Meredith, but she soon tired of the ensuing arguments and learned to always respond positively, regardless of the truth at the time. She could hear John in the basement, rummaging about like a boy in a toy chest. "He's up to something," said Meredith. "I've got to go. I'll call you soon and say hi to Dad for me." They hung up and Meredith sat at the kitchen table a moment, tracing the line of the wood grain with her index finger. i' Again she thought of her mother's party and John's imitations of the h guests. From then on he had called her Ditty and they often fell into a mock conversation as if they were two snobs having a marvy time at the Fabulous Franklin Affair. 1~ "Johnathon, Johnathon, do you EVER listen to me?!" she called from cl the top of the basement stair case. "I was just on the line with Mummy g and heard all the details of yet another soiree that was a smashing success e last night! Do come listen!" "Ditty, my love muffin, I'm in the middle of a most fantastic project. 3 Come hither and do tell, for I am not to be interrupted just yet, " John called. Meredith shared the conversation with John as he worked intently on a new model airplane . John loved putting things together and had collected models of all types since he was a young boy. Meredith loved to watch him as his large hands worked on the small, delicate pieces of various trains, cars, planes and ships that he put together, sometimes in a single afternoon. She stood watching him from behind and could hear him humming as he worked. "Well, pumpkin," she said finally, "I've got laundry to attack. " Meredith sat in the middle of the king sized bed humming quietly to herself as she folded the laundry strewn about her. T-shirts were stacked in square columns and socks rolled into florettes on the bed. Rain fell like a wet sheet outside casting a grey tint over the late afternoon. The clothes were still warm from the dryer and Meredith absorbed the heat; she felt as though it seeped into her mind, warming her body and soothing her. Humming quietly to herself, she thought of John, for it was his habit to hum when he worked quietly. She had noticed this one day in college as he sat across from her and folded his Economics papers into oragami shapes. Meredith was distracted and looked up to see him concentrating on the folds with squinted eyes and his tongue slipping between his lips. The image caught her by surprise and she smiled and then continued reading as he went on humming. It was the same picture of John that she kept in her mind and it often struck her at odd moments, such as this, and brought the same feeling of security it had the first time. The evening was cool and damp, the rain having finally subsided. "Let's cook out," said John. "Burgers, corn, a salad maybe. You know Meredith, we're running out of grill time. Winter is just around the corner. " He began rummaging through the refrigerator to get dinner started and Meredith set the table. "Did you finish the model?" she asked. "No, I'll have to save it for another rainy day. It s pretty big. Hey, is this ground chuck okay?" He stood at the freezer staring at the package with a funny smile. "Ground chuck. It sounds like dog food. Why not just call it 'hamburger meat?' " Cars slipped down the wet streets and the night glistened against the headlights. The air smelled of the approaching season while the cooling grill gave off the familiar scent of the passing summer months. Meredith lit the candles on the table. She and John sat across from each other, their faces illuminated in gold. 4 "What a day," said John. "You would think we had not a care in the world . I wish we could have lazy days like this every day. " "Mmmm, me too. I love Sundays. I remember when I was little, Sunday was always my favorite day of the week. Especially during the -Winter. Dad and Jeffery and I would watch the football game on T.V. and Mom would make a big dinner with apple pie for dessert. " "Your Mom made the pie?" "Yes. Why?" "Well, I don't know. I can't imagine your mother cooking like that I guess. She seems like the type that would even cater family dinner on Sundays." "John!" " o Meredith, I don't mean it like that. It's iust, well, almost every time I have eaten with your family it has been on a holiday or one of their parties. Usually the food is catered, that's all ." "John , you never knew my mother when we were younger. She was a great mom. Of course she cooked for us. My parents lifestyle changed when Jeffery and I were out of the house. She didn't need to cook as much and they got used to going out." "Meredith , I never doubted your mother like that. Don't get defensive. That is not what I meant. " "Catered family dinners. Unbelievable John. " She twisted the edge of her placemat and stared into the food that was left on her plate. "You're angry. I can't believe it. You 're angry about one little comment about your mother when, in fact, you were just mocking her yourself a while ago. And I didn't even mean it like that. " John threw his napkin down onto the table in frustration. Meredith panicked a moment, thinking he was going to leave the table, but he didn 't. She looked into . John's piercing eyes and saw him in a way that seemed to challenge her sense of security with him. "Well, John, I just wonder sometimes .. . " "What? You wonder what?" "I don't know, sometimes I wonder how you really feel. We mock her all the time, but she really isn't like that. " Her voice whined and she hated herself for it. She hated herself even more for starting such a stupid argument and ruining the day. She thought of her mother's question and wondered , would she, could she, ever admit to the negative? "Meredith, what is this really about?" John asked. For the first time she could not explain it to him, for she could not explain it herself. She knew it was not so much about her mother, but rather herself and the fear of her ability to cause a strain in between them because of her selfishness. Her love for him was so intense it sometimes 5 frightened her, made her believe she could destroy what seemed perfect. She loved knowing his morning ritual , she could hear him hum, taste his breath or smell his skin when he wasn't there. But it wasn't enough. She was always in search of reinforcement. A pit grew in her stomach whenever something between them faltered , no matter how trivial the situation. John's face seemed to dim and became blurred as tears welled in Meredith's eyes. "I'm sorry John, I don't know why I'm getting so upset. This is really stupid." He looked at her a long moment. "Meredith, you know I love you. And I'll never stop loving you. Your mother has no part in o ur relationship." She felt transparent, as though he had read her thoughts and seen her fear. She was, for a moment, controlled by the intensity of her own love for him, by the desire to have him know her as she did him. He stood and blew out the candles and the dark room swallowed her. She was lost among its shadows. He rose in the darkness to take her hand, lift her to her feet, and hold her tightly to his chest like a child with a doll. "Forget the dishes," he said. "You always do the dishes before I even take the last bite, but not tonight, Ditty. Tonight I want you all to myself." She could hear his hearbeat and felt his voice in her throat when he spoke. John lay at her right. She could feel his steady breathing on her skin. When the wind blew it caught droplets of crystallized rain from tree branches that had begun to lose their leaves. Meredith touched his skin lightly a moment, and then she clutched his arm tightly to her chest as she sunk into the folds of their bed. She held onto him, absorbing the warmth and scent of his skin into her own. "Ditty," John said sleepily, "someday I want to have a piece of your mother's apple pie. " Julie Gruen 6 

And It Was Sunday

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And It Was Sunday

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