“Have you received any yet?”
She slung her purse over her shoulder. “Of course I’ve received my paychecks. I don’t work for free.”
“I haven’t seen any deposits into our checking or savings account.”
“I opened another account,” she said.
I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. “Another account? Why?”
“It just seemed simpler. So we could keep track of our budget and your business expenses.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”
But it IS a big deal, I thought, still trying to make sense of it. “Our savings account is getting a little low,” I said.
“I’ll take care of it, okay?” She leaned in and offered a quick kiss. “But let me get going with London so we can get to your parents’ at a decent time, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering if my wife had wanted to make my head spin. “Okay.”
“That definitely falls into the that’s-very-interesting category,” Marge opined.
“I just don’t know why she didn’t even mention it.”
“Hello? That’s pretty easy. It was because she didn’t want you to know.”
“How was I not going to know? I’m the one who writes the checks.”
“Oh, she knew you’d find out. Eventually. And that when you did, you’d sit back trying to figure it out.”
“Why would she want to do that?”
“Because that’s what she does. She likes to keep you guessing. She’s always been that way.”
“No, she hasn’t,” I said.
“Liz?” Marge asked.
“I’d rather not get involved,” Liz said, holding up a hand. “I’m off the clock. Now, if you’d like to know a wonderful Italian marinara recipe, or if you have some insights into safaris, count me in.”
“I appreciate that, Liz. I’ve heard Botswana has some fabulous safaris.”
“I would love to go one day. That’s my dream trip.”
“Can we get back on topic please?” Marge said. “We have something very interesting going on.”
“Rhinos are interesting,” I said. “Elephants, too.”
Liz put a hand on Marge’s knee. “We really should try to schedule a safari in the next couple of years. Don’t you think that would be fabulous?”
“I don’t like when you take his side when he tries to change the subject.”
“He didn’t just try. I think he did a pretty good job. I saw an advertisement for a place called Camp Mombo. It looked amazing.”
“I think you should definitely try to find a way to go,” I said. “It’s one of those once-in-a-lifetime things.”
“Would both of you please return to the subject at hand?”
Liz giggled at Marge’s obvious frustration. “Every couple has their own style of communication and they often speak in shorthand. Unless I know the subtext, I wouldn’t know what to think about it.”
“See?” Marge offered. “She agrees with me that it’s fishy.”
“No, she didn’t. She didn’t say anything.”
“That’s just because you couldn’t read her subtext.”
“Seriously,” I said to Liz later, “why do you think Vivian didn’t tell me that she’d opened another bank account? I know you’re off the clock, but I’d really like to understand what’s going on.”
“I’m not sure I can tell you what’s going on. My guess would be as good as yours.”
“But if you had to guess?”
She seemed to think about what to say. “Then I’d say that it was just like she said and that it was no big deal. Maybe she simply wants her own account so she can see exactly how much she’s contributing and it makes her feel better about herself.”
I thought about that. “Have you had clients who’ve done things like this? Other wives?”
Liz nodded. “A few times.”
“And?”
“Like I said, it can mean different things.”
“I know you’re trying to be diplomatic here, but I’m at a loss. Is there anything you can tell me?”
Liz took her time before answering. “If there’s one common thread that underlies situations like these, it’s generally anger.”
“You think Vivian’s angry with me?”
“I don’t spend a lot of time with Vivian, and when I do, it’s usually when we’re here with the whole family. There’s only so much one can learn in a setting like this. But when people are angry, they often behave in ways that are dictated by that emotion. They can do things they ordinarily wouldn’t do.”
“Like open a secret bank account?”
“It’s not secret, Russ. She told you about it.”
“So she’s… not angry?”
“I think,” she said, “that you’d be in a better position to answer that than I am.”
Another hour passed, and there was still no sign of Vivian or London. Marge and Liz had gone for a walk around the block while Dad had settled in front of the television to watch a ball game. I found my mom in the kitchen, dicing potatoes as a large pot of stew simmered on the stovetop, the aroma already tantalizing. She wore a bright orange apron that I vaguely remembered buying for her.
“There you are,” she said. “I was wondering when you’d finally get around to visiting with your old mom.”