I awoke Saturday morning to a faceful of sunshine streaming in through a crack in my bedroom window curtains. It was pretty rare for me to sleep in, but after last night's activities, I guess it wasn't too surprising.
What was surprising, once I got cleaned up and headed into the kitchen, was that my wife, Marsha, and Chani, my eighteen-year-old daughter, were both gone. I had the house to myself.
Despite how well things had gone with both of them last night, I was still a little apprehensive. Not too much, though.
For her part, my wife seemed excited about this new arrangement between Chani and me, this status of "secret-boyfriend" and "secret-girlfriend."
Similarly, Chani seemed very excited about the whole thing. However, she did say we needed to work out the particulars with her mom. That's probably what they were off doing right now.
Regardless, there was no way for me to know, so there was no sense in dwelling on it. I took my morning caffeine out to the back deck and enjoyed a few moments of peace before getting to work.
The autumn air was somewhat crisp, but the bright sun warmed my skin. It felt fantastic.
Halloween was only a week away, and while it hadn't yet snowed, it wasn't uncommon to have a little on the ground by this time. There weren't many days like this left before winter.
The fall is my favorite season of the year, and with winter at the gates, I wished I could sit out on my deck all day.
That's not how the real world works for grownups, though, so I gave my spirit a few more moments to soak in the sunshine before heading back inside and beginning my Saturday chores.
---
Around 2:00 pm, my wife and daughter returned home.
I was working in my home office with the door closed, so I only became aware of their presence when they shuffled down the hallway past my door.
They knew to keep quiet when my door was closed, so there were no calls of greeting. However, I was met with the distinct sound of two women laden with what could only be shopping bags. (And not the crinkle of plastic grocery bags, but that particular rustle of glossy bags and tissue paper which only comes from clothes shopping, expensive clothes shopping.)
About ten minutes later, I heard someone, I suspected Marsha, walk up to my door and pause, presumably listening to determine if I was on the phone. After a few seconds of silence, she issued a gentle knock, and I invited her in.
Sure enough, it was Marsha. "Hey," she said, happy to see me. "Am I interrupting?"
"No, you're good. Welcome home. What have you two been up to all day?"
"Shopping!" she grinned, teasing me a little with her smile in that,
Hehe, I just spent all your money.
kind of way. She hadn't, of course. Marsha had always been responsible with money, probably more responsible than me. It's just fun to play into stereotypes sometimes.
"Anyway," Marsha continued. "I'll let you get back to work, but real quick, I wanted to tell you I made dinner reservations for the three of us tonight at 7:00. It's downtown, so we'll need to leave here around 6:00 - 6:15. That okay?"
"Reservations? Really? Do I have to get dressed up?"
"I'd appreciate it if you wore a jacket, but you don't have to wear a tie."
"Alright. Um...what's the occasion?"
"We're celebrating!" came Marsha's exuberant reply as she stepped back out into the hall and closed the door behind her.
---
The drive to the restaurant was a little awkward and mostly silent. Marsha was clearly in a good mood, so I wasn't worried about anything that might transpire at dinner.
Chani was obviously a little uncomfortable, and who could blame her. From what I was able to piece together about their day—which was still something of a mystery to me—Marsha had been exuberant about mine and Chani's new status. She wanted to share that excitement by having a grand day full of fun. But, knowing my daughter, I was pretty sure Chani had dutifully endured her mother's enthusiasm, even if she would have preferred something more lowkey.
The restaurant itself was very nice—a little pricy, but classy and intimate, romantic even. Clearly, this was a spot for couples, as the vast majority of tables were two tops, though we occupied a four-person table.
An additional benefit of the romantic ambiance was that there was plenty of space between tables, allowing for private conversation without having to whisper.
Continuing the theme of awkward secrecy, we had "normal" dinnertime conversation as we ate—even though it was clear my wife wanted to talk about
something
.
Maybe she was waiting for the wine to have an effect, I don't know. She did have a couple glasses with dinner, even Chani seemed to be enjoying her glass. (Though whether she was enjoying the "grownup" feelings of drinking wine in a fancy restaurant, or actually enjoying the wine itself, I didn't know. Personally, I think it's gross. To me, it tastes like drinking tree bark, but apparently, I'm in the minority.)
After dinner, we ordered some dessert wine. (Still not my thing, but it's sweet and cold, so I can tolerate it.) And, with our dark, syrupy, "treat" in hand, it appeared Marsha was finally ready to address the elephant in the room.
"Alright," she started as she glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot before her eyes settled on me. "As you're aware, Chani and I spent several hours together today. Some of that time was shopping. And, some of that time was talking.
"I told Chani about the relationship I shared with my father and how important it was to me.
"I also apologized to her. I don't know why. Like, I seriously don't know why I never brought it up. Maybe I was just too wrapped up in my own life and my own family. Maybe that's why it never occurred to me that Chani could benefit from a similar relationship with her father, with you, James."
It occurs to
me that in all that I've shared with you, dear reader, that I never shared my name. Hi, I'm James.
"I feel really guilty about it," Marsha added.
"No, Mom..." Chani interrupted not quite sure what the appropriate words were to comfort her mother.
"Thank you, Dear, but I do feel guilty. I wish we had done this some time ago..." she trailed off for a moment. "But, that brings me to what I want to talk about this evening.
"Chani and I spent a fair bit of time talking, and sharing, and...planning. Naturally, your new relationship is going to impact this family significantly.
"Mostly in good ways," she quickly added before continuing. "And be that as it may, there's still potential for some negative things as well. Jealousy, for example.
"So, Chani and I decided to lay down some ground rules. I want all of us to go over them, amend them if needed, and agree upon them." Marsha unlocked her phone and presumably began to pull up the rules she and Chani had already agreed to.
"We're doing this here at the restaurant?" I asked, somewhat uneasy with the idea of it.
"Yep. Relax, we're fine.
"Okay, Rule One..." As my wife began talking, I reached under the table to Chani, who was sitting on my right. I took her hand in mine, which she accepted and squeezed before, turning to me and smiling.
Marsha noticed the gesture and gave us both a warm smile before returning to her list.
"Chani can choose to end this relationship—and return to a normal father/daughter relationship—at any time without resistance from either you or me. Of course, you can too, but if it were to happen, I suspect it would be coming from Chani rather than you."
"So, this is like the 'At-Will' clause in an employment contract?" I asked.
"Exactly."
"Sure, I can agree to that. Chani?" I turned to my daughter, and she nodded in the affirmative.
Marsha also nodded in acceptance of our answers and continued.
"Rule Two: There will be a strictly enforced second-base only rule for one month. Which is pretty much Thanksgiving, so we're just going to call it until Thanksgiving."
I cleared my throat, and my cheeks turned bright red as I reminded my wife, "You umm...realize we've already broken that rule, right?"
"I know, but starting right now. Here's the thing. This arrangement needs to be about more than physical intimacy. I think, and Chani agrees, that you need to 'date' for one month before things get too hot and heavy."
I was literally squirming in my seat as we sat, in public, discussing my physical relationship with Chani. Marsha, however, seemed utterly unphased. It was weird. Just plain weird.
"Can you both agree to this rule?"
Chani and I spoke roughly in unison, she with a clear and confident, "Yes" and me with a strained, "Sure."
"Good. Rule Three: Chani may be your girlfriend, but I am your wife. You will spend at least five nights a week, sleeping next to me in our bed. And, we will continue to have regular date nights, just you and me."
"Absolutely," I agreed.
"Uh-huh," Chani affirmed.
"Finally, Rule Four: Communication is key to any relationship. So we all agree to have open lines of communication between us. And, if one of us is uncomfortable with a particular person or topic, then we can use another as a go-between. That's worded weird. Does it make sense? Like Chani, if you need to address something with your dad, but you're feeling uncomfortable, you can come to me, and I'll act as a go-between."
"Yep," Chani said.
"Makes sense," I agreed.
With Marsha's rules agreed upon, we finished up, paid for our meal, and headed out to the car.
Once we were underway, Marsha turned a little in her seat to face me, her face beaming.
"Oh, yeah," she said. "Chani and I have a little surprise for you when we get home.
"Really?" I asked, putting a little excited anticipation into my voice. "What kind of surprise?"
"It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you. Though... I will give you a little hint. We may be putting on a show."
