Page 68 of Save the Date

“Sorry,” Emma sputtered, “I was just looking for Mom.”

“She’s by the sweaters,” Alan replied before heading out of the room.

Emma debated making a break for it until she heard Debbie say, “You can come in.” She entered the closet to find her mom sitting on the bench they’d installed to help Alan put his socks on. Her mom looked like she was about to cry. Debbie never cried.

“What happened?” Emma asked as she took a seat.

“He wants me to teach him how to knit.”

This was not the answer Emma was expecting. So she waited for more. She’d learned early on in her training that if somethingwasn’t making sense, not replying right away often compelled people to fill in more details without her having to ask.

“I don’t want to teach him how to knit,” Debbie explained. “Knitting ismyhobby that I do by myself or with my knitting friends. But somehow, I’m the bad guy because I don’t want us to merge into one entity that is never apart for longer than a bowel movement.”

“At least you get to poop in peace,” Emma replied, but Debbie was too upset to laugh.

“Ihatehurting his feelings, but I don’t know how to get through to him without being blunt.”

Emma nodded; it was a cycle she had noticed growing up. Alan would do something to annoy Debbie. Debbie would try to get him to stop. He would ignore her complaints until Debbie blew up at him, and then both of them would feel hurt and misunderstood.

“Retirement is a big adjustment. You two will figure out a new way to be with each other.”

“Maybe,” Debbie said, sounding dubious. “Or maybe I’ll just be annoyed for the rest of my life.”

Emma watched as her mother stood up and walked away, likely to finish processing her emotions unobserved. For the first time, Emma felt worried that her parents’ marriage wasn’t as indestructible as she thought. It was an unsettling feeling and she wanted to put it to bed before it spun out of control in her mind. She fished her phone out of her pocket and after a moment’s hesitation made a call.

“Hi,” Matt said. “Everything okay?”

“Sort of. Do you have a minute or are you busy?”

“I’m busy, but I always have a minute for you.”

Emma smiled. She realized it was the first time she was leaning on Matt for emotional support for something outside of their own relationship. This was the type of exchange that could make or break couples, and she hated that she knew that.

“I’m worried about my parents,” Emma explained, giving Matt the play-by-play of her last ten minutes. “What if I’ve been so caught up in my own shit, I haven’t noticed that they’re falling apart?”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. They’ve been married a long time.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I had a client in her eighties file for divorce last year.”

Matt laughed even though Emma wasn’t sure what was funny about having to navigate the dating scene again after sixty years. It sounded like a plot of a horror film.

“They’re your parents. Not your patients—”

“Clients. We call them clients. It helps minimize the unequal power dynamic and gives people agency in their own healing.”

“Okay, good to know,” Matt said kindly. “I just don’t want you to stress yourself out. Just because you’ve seen things not work out for your clients doesn’t mean your parents are going to get divorced.”

“You’re right. It just freaked me out. I think I’m still waiting for the next terrible, life-altering thing to happen.”

“Kelly always used to say, ‘The smallest seed of faith is better than the largest fruit of happiness.’”

“What does that mean?”

“Honestly, I’m not totally sure. She’d use it whenever I was worried about the future. I think it’s from the Bible or something.”

It wasn’t, Emma quickly learned through a Google search. It was by Thoreau.

“I’m so sorry but I have to hop on a call. Can we talk later?” Matt said.

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