Marital Issues
Newly Married Couple Learns The Hard Way
As I get caught smack in the middle
It’s hell to get caught in the middle of a married couple’s conflicts. They loop us into their troubles unannounced, then hold us there, prisoners. It’s not only rude but mean.
I met a married couple the other day on my walk. They were celebrating their newly minted marriage with a fun romp at a local playground. What a pleasant idea, I thought at first. Soon I found myself captive to their woes. I didn’t even know these people!
The fact they were four years old had nothing to do with it.
The conversation began innocently.
“You two are married?” I asked, “When did you get married?”
“Yesterday at Sam’s house.”
“Yeah, but we don’t live together,” Sam clarified, “We only play together.”
“But Sam, we have a baby. We need to live together now. You can live at my house where our baby is.”
“But, Josie, I don’t want to live at your house. It doesn’t have Legos.”
“Wait,” I interrupted, “You two have a baby?”
“Yes. Baby Matilda. She’s on the shelf in my mom’s bedroom.”
“Why is your baby on a shelf?!” I was incredulous. This was absurd.
Josie shrugged. “That’s where she lives.”
“How old is baby Matilda?” I asked.
“Eighty-six years old. She’s antique.”
“That’s not our baby,” Sam protested. “Our baby is in my dad’s car right now.”
“What baby?” Josie demanded.
“Peppa the Pig baby.”
“That’s A PIG. We need to have a person baby, Sam. Peppa is our pet.”
“Peppa is our pet AND our baby. Or I don’t want to be married to you anymore!” he stomped.
Josie started to cry at this, which was unfortunate because this set Sam off crying, too. I wasn’t sure what to do. It was awkward. I stood there at a loss but then did what any sane stranger would have done and started to fake-cry at a high decibel level. I felt like a large pet-baby that was also a tornado or a nuclear bomb notification.
The married couple looked up at me and stopped crying. I thought this was odd. One minute they’re crying at the suggestion of divorce, the next they’re distracted by other people’s fake sorrows. Were they in love, not in love, or enlightened ones?
Josie came up to me and put her hand on my knee.
“Don’t cry. You can have my Pop It.” Then she placed her fidget toy on my lap. “Sam,” she ordered, “give her your Pop It too.”
“I don’t want to.”
At this, I revived my fake cry, which prompted Sam to relinquish his colorful grid of silicone pop-circles and place it on my lap. Now I had everybody’s Pop Its, so I stopped crying.
Then Sam looked over at his wife.
“What we need, Josie, is a new car. That’s what my dad is trying to do — get a new car.”
“Why doesn’t he just get one?” I asked.
“My mom said he doesn’t need one, but my dad says she’s a banana.”
“You mean bananas?” I asked.
“No, she’s a banana. That’s what he said.”
“Sam,” chimed in Josie, “Your mom’s a smart banana. You don’t need a new car.”
“But we do, Josie — for our baby and pet. When you’re married, you have a car.”
“That’s not true. Not everybody has a car,” I corrected Sam — not that I was taking sides.
“Well, we’re going to get a car. Cars can drive all over my sister’s dolls when she’s being mean to me. Like this.” Then Sam took the Matchbox car he was holding and ran it all over his arm in an automotive riot. Then he paused for an instant.
“Hey, Josie,” he called to his wife who was now clambering up to the top of the slide. “This can be our new car!” and he held up his miniature Corvette.
“No way. Your car smells bad, Sam.” Josie hollered as she slid down the metal ramp, arms held up high, hands waving at the sky. “It stinks!”
“My car doesn’t stink! You stink!”
“You two sure argue a lot for a newly married couple,” I shared. “Shouldn’t this still be your honeymoon phase?”
“We haven’t gone on our honeymoon yet,” answered Josie.
“Where are we going on our honeymoon, Josie?” asked Sam with a quizzical look on his small, espoused face.
“I don’t know. Where do you want to go?” asked his other half.
Then there was silence. Both got up from their respective spots, ran to the swing set, hopped on a swing, and started to pump their short legs back and forth to gain momentum.
“Why don’t you go to the Mediterranean coast?” I yelled over, throwing out suggestions.
“Naw,” said Sam, “We’re going to Ben and Jerry’s for ice cream.”
“That’s not where you go for a honeymoon, Sam!” said Josie, exasperated.
“WHERE THEN?!” bellowed her husband.
I felt a fake cry start to come on, but then Josie saved me.
“Sam, we don’t have any money. We should just have our honeymoon here.”
“That’s good, Josie. I will meet you here tomorrow.”
Then the young couple kept swinging in blissful sync with a few giggles wafting into the air at intervals. This was my cue to leave before the next trouble started. They certainly hadn’t resolved the car issue yet, and fake crying takes a lot out of you.
I looked down at my two new fidget toys as I walked away. They were cheerful and enticing, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d show up tomorrow for that honeymoon.
I’m no banana.
Thank you, BOFace, for your spot-on suggestions. You are an ace at streamlining. I need you!
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