Page 67 of Husband of the Year
She most certainly will. Oy.
I decided not to tell my mother about Greggie. The mere mention of children sends the bubbe portion of her brain into overdrive, and I fear what bringing up a baby might do. But I can’t stop thinking about him. Olan holding him. Olan feeding him. Olan playing with him. Right from the start, Olan’s exceptional parenting skills with Illona were a total turn-on. Keep your dark and broody, morally gray men—I’ll take an exemplary father any day, please, and thank you very much.
There was something in Olan’s eyes when he talked about Greggie. I wonder if that’s what he was like when Illona was a baby. I’ll ask Isabella. Apparently, Olan loves babies. How did I not know this about him? But also, the way he dotes on Illona, this wouldn’t be earth-shattering news.News Flash: Amazing Father Also Loves Babies.
“Marvin? Where did your mind wander off to?”
“Sorry, Mom. Just thinking about the wedding,” I lie.
I’ll tell her. Just not now.
“I brought my notebook.” She pulls a small black-and-white composition notebook out of her handbag. As a child, I used to imagine her purse was like Mary Poppins’s bag—filled to the brim with the entire contents of a pharmacy along with assorted knick-knacks and snacks. One time she asked me to find her lipstick and I went spelunking, scouring through hidden pockets and compartments, finally finding it at thebottom under half a bag of cashews. My mother could pull a machete out of her purse and I wouldn’t be shocked.
“Good,” I say. “It will be helpful to take notes. Sheldon is very… passionate. There will be lots to write down.”
When we walk into Schmear and Far, Sheldon waits at a table with Theo, who once again looks like a small boy dragged into the lingerie section of the department store with his mother.
“Which one is Sheldon?” Mom whispers by the door, but before I can answer, Sheldon stands, wearing a maroon shirt with the words “Wedding Planner” sprawled across his chest in bright purple, bordered by rainbow glitter.
“Mother, how did you two…”
“Sarah!” Sheldon shouts. He runs over and embraces her. “I’m so happy to meet you in person. I hope I matched the color and fonts correctly. I was going strictly off your photo.”
“You did! But this glitter.” She motions to Sheldon’s chest.
“Glitter makes everything better,” he says, raising his chin.
“It sure does. This one”—she nods toward me—“refused to wear his shirt.”
“Are you being a grumpy pants about wedding planning?” Sheldon hugs me and then lowers his voice to a whisper in my ear. “You’ll have to sit at the grumpy pants’ table with Theo.”
“I heard that,” Theo says from his seat. He looks, well, grumpier than usual. “And I’m not grumpy. I’m hungry. You said we couldn’t order until they got here. They’re here. Can we please eat now?”
“This is Theo?” Sarah asks.
Sheldon nods and says, “He hasn’t had breakfast, and, well…”
“I totally understand,” Sarah says. “I get cranky when my blood sugar is low, too. Let’s get our food, then we can chat about the wedding.” She holds her notebook up and Sheldon’s eyes go wide.
“A notebook! How precious. I’ve got my planner in my bag. I can’t wait to show you, but first, bagels. Theo, let’s order!”
When we’re all seated with bagels piled high with fixings, Sheldon reaches for his backpack.
“Theo, you were right about the pastrami lox,” Sarah says. “I never knew how much I needed this in my life.” She takes a bite and emits a noise to convey her complete pleasure. “Can I date this bagel? Is that a thing now? I’m bagel-sexual.” She laughs at her own joke and Theo, mouth full, shoots me a perplexed look. “And the owner is Jewish. Or at least whoever makes the bagels.”
Sheldon pulls his planner from his bag. It’s the Miss Universe of Planners to Mom’s Regional Third Place Notebook. It’s a massive, purple, and sparkly spiral-bound affair. He moves his plate over toward Theo and plops the planner down.
“You don’t want your bagel?” Theo asks.
“Maybe half. I had a yogurt before we left.”
Theo raises his eyebrows.
“You can have the other half, baby.”
This sends a smile shooting across Theo’s face and he promptly moves half of Sheldon’s bagel and lox onto his plate.
“Now, I’ve done some preliminary work.” Sheldon opens the giant book and flips pages. There are mood boards with photos. Fabrics. One page seems to have what appears to be a twig glued to it. Oy. “Based on what Marvin told me, I was thinking we could go with blue hydrangeas. They’re native to Maine, inexpensive, and classic.” Sheldon pulls what I think is a flower petal from a page. It’s sad and limp between his fingers.
