Sunday, April 20, 1986

“I’m what?”

“You heard me. You’re a selfish tightwad.”

Frank noticed a peculiar feeling in his stomach, as if a mule had just kicked him in the solar plexus. So this is what it must feel like to be a character in a Kafka novel. The last 45 seconds played over in his head like a 1940s black and white movie: happiest man in the world knocks on the door, comes in, says hi, reaches out to hug Christine; she frowns, takes a step backward, crosses her arms, and says the selfish tightwad line; he stands there, not breathing, with his mouth open and arms out.

He remembered to breathe. He put his arms down and sat down slowly in her kitchen chair. “Christine, I’m sorry, but I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Great! Make that insensitive selfish tightwad.” She sat down on the other side of the table, arms still crossed, foot bouncing, frown still fixed.

“Look, honeycakes, whatever I …”

“Aaaugh! Stop with the ‘honeycakes’! Where did you ever get that word, anyway?”

By now Frank’s eyebrows were about halfway up his forehead. “I thought you liked …” He stopped suddenly as he noticed her glowering at him superciliously as if daring him to say she liked honey-anything. “Look, how about start from the beginning. What makes you think I’m selfish and”—he couldn’t bring himself to say “tightwad”—“stingy”?

“Oh, I like that! You’ve changed the subject from your selfishness to my ‘thinking’! And I’ll bet you didn’t even notice.”

The Kafkaesque feeling was not gone. It didn’t help that she was right about the not noticing; in fact, it took him a few seconds to figure out what that meant. “Look, my angel, whatever I did, I’m sorry. I love you. But I can’t fix it if I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She slammed a piece of paper down on the table loudly enough that he startled.

“Yesterday,” she snapped, “I thought you were excited to be marrying me, but this—shut up, I’m not finished yet—and about 20 minutes ago I actually read this receipt from the printer for our wedding announcement. You are so damn … Oh, damn! You’re making me so mad I’m cussing! I haven’t done that in almost a year.” A sigh while she closed her eyes briefly to start over. “You are so darn excited to be married that you’re going to tell a whopping fifty people? And you’re so excited at the way I look that you don’t want to include an engagement picture?”

“Oh.” A flicker of comprehension stirred in Frank’s befuddled mind. “You mean, all this”—‌he waved his hands vaguely in her direction—“is about saving money on the wedding announcements?”

“No!” She slammed the table again with her palm. “This is not all about money! That is my point! It’s about my friends and my family and—oh, did you want to send any announcements to your friends and family? And it’s about me and you, about how much I’m worth to you.”

“Honeyca… I mean, my darling Christine, you are worth more to me than everything in my whole life. If you really think $150 is all you’re worth to me, of course you should be upset, but if I’d spent 150 thousand dollars on those announcements it wouldn’t come close to how valuable you are to me.”

Her tone this time was almost civil: “Well, at least you think fast on your feet. Figuratively, I mean.” She pointed to the seat of his chair.

“I meant every word. You know how I feel about you. But look, I mean, we’re splitting the cost of the announcements with your dad anyway, and I thought, well, he’s on a tight budget, and …”

“My dad would find the money.”

Frank just closed his eyes for a second. He heard the unspoken “because my dad loves me” but couldn’t think how to answer it. “And besides, Christine, you know everything about my finances, or lack thereof. I admit it, I’m a student and living on my non-income. Mea maxima culpa.” He was getting a little angry himself.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting a little touch of elegance for a wedding. You only get married once, after all. At least once was my plan.”

Frank crossed his arms and started to answer defensively but thought better of it. A silence stretched on for interminable seconds of bilateral righteous indignation. Finally a playful smile started at Frank’s lips. “Hey,” he said, “you know what the good side is here?”

“I am not noticing a good side.”

“We’re finally angry! It gives us a chance to kiss and make up!” He couldn’t hold back his smile.

Her reaction was ice. Make that dry ice. “Don’t you dare.”

“But …” Frank wisely closed his mouth but now he was truly surprised. “Look, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I had no idea you would take it this way. I’m sure we can figure something out. I’ll get my budget out, and you can check with your dad if you want, and we can figure out what we can afford.”

She actually screamed in frustration. “Aaugh! I am trying to tell you, it is not about the budget! It’s about you and me. I guess you just don’t care about the announcements.”

“I’m just trying to live in the real world, Christine. I can’t just make money appear out of thin air.”

“People borrow money.”

Frank sighed. “I hate to start our marriage out in hock. But if it’s that important to you I suppose we can.”

“You are really impossible. The question is not whether it’s important to me; it’s whether it’s important to you.”

“You are important to me! It’s true, I really don’t care about the wedding announcements. For that matter, I don’t really care about anything about the wedding per se, the whole social angle of the wedding anyway. I just care about being married to you forever.” He noticed Christine’s head was bowed and her hand was shading her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“Frank, I don’t know what to say. Why don’t you go home?”

“Are you kidding? You know I can’t stand being away from you.” She didn’t answer. An awful thought occurred to him. “Look, are you just having second thoughts? Are you thinking about canceling our engagement?” Now the crying intensified. Frank walked over to her and awkwardly reached out a hand to her shoulder. She shook it off.

Frank stood there just as awkwardly, thinking I guess that’s one way to get into the Guinness Book of World Records. Shortest engagement ever registered by two sober people not living in Hollywood or Vegas: 32 hours.

After a minute the sobbing quieted, and she got up and grabbed a kleenex. “I guess not. I mean, no. Let’s just talk when I’m feeling better.”

“Feeling better? What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

“Oh, I’m just tired. I woke up around 4 this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep, and I haven’t felt like getting off the couch to do anything until about an hour ago.”

“Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”

“With your cooking? No thanks.” But she smiled a little to take the sting away. “I’m really not hungry. Look, let’s just talk tomorrow after I hopefully get a good night’s sleep.”

“All right. I’ll count the hours. How about a hug?”

“Frank, please! Let’s just talk tomorrow.”

He tried to summon a smile, though he imagined that it looked more like some kind of pathological facial spasm, and walked out. The walk home was much more lonely than usual.

His apartment door was barely open when Alan hallooed at him from the kitchen. “Hey, Frank, I heard you’re engaged?” Frank nodded and grunted affirmatively while he tossed his backpack into his room. “Whoa, you’ve known her, what, a month now?”

“Actually, a month today.”

“You waited a whole month? What took you so long?”

“I know, it sounds crazy to get engaged that fast, but I’m graduating this week after all, and I wasn’t about to let her get away.” Frank was close enough to see what was in the frying pan his roommate was tending. “Hey, what is that slop you’re cooking?”

“Are you kidding me? This so-called slop is my new gift to the culinary world. I call it CSMP Sark B. That’s short for cheese soup / mashed potatoes / sausage and rice krispies burger.”

“That’s disgusting.” Frank started rummaging through his cupboard looking for something relatively edible.

“Your loss,” said Alan. Then, under his breath, he admitted, “I think. Haven’t tasted it yet.”

A few minutes later, Alan sat down with his slop burger and an oversized bottle of ketchup, while Frank worked on ramen noodles and a frozen dinner.

Around a mouthful of ketchup diluted with burger, Alan asked, “What’s her name again?”

“Christine.”

“She seemed nice enough when you introduced us. So, what’s she really like?”

“Hm. Not a good day to ask.”

“Oho, the great instant-engagement man is unlucky in love today?”

“Ha ha. Look, I’ll tell you what she’s really like. Did I tell you about the impossibly amazing day I met her?”

“Maybe three or four times … in the first ten minutes after you got home that night. Plus about a hundred times since.”

“Anyway, she’s really like that! She sees wonders in the everyday, ordinary world. Around her the whole world is brighter and I feel like a new man. She joined the Church about a year ago and she has all these great perspectives on the scriptures, I mean, you know how everybody always quotes the same collection of verses on most topics? She has a fresh eye on them and she finds the most amazing things in the scriptures right under your nose. Plus, she’s smart, she really cares about other people, and as you saw, obviously she’s really sexy. We have this private joke: we’ve never argued about anything all month, well, we hadn’t until today, I guess I should say. We’ll be looking in each other’s eyes and thinking how lucky we are and one of us will say, ‘quick, make me angry!’”

“Make me angry?” wondered Alan.

“Yeah, because then we can kiss and make up, get it? And she really is a great kisser. Come to think of it, that’s probably just a natural part of her whole personality. She’s passionate about everything, singing and talking and kissing and … everything. So that was one thing that was weird today, because normally, maybe you won’t believe this, but normally it’s hard for her to keep her hands off me.” Alan made a “gag me” gesture. “Yeah, you’re just jealous. Actually I’m glad the temple had a date open at the end of June for our wedding. I don’t know how people wait more than a couple of months to get married. Well, I guess they don’t wait. Anyway, …”

“OK, stop to breathe now, Frank; I swear, you talk like a fish drinks. I don’t need to hear about your passionate frustration. I get it, she puts the joie in the vivre, and you’re hopelessly besotted with her. But why isn’t today a good day to ask?”

“Well, honestly I don’t know. Yesterday morning at dawn I popped the question, up on the mountain where we met, and all day everything was perfect. Well, perfect except for not studying for our last couple of exams. I’ll have to get up early tomorrow.” He frowned, and then seemed to remember he was in the middle of a conversation. “We called family, and called the temple to check on a June wedding date, which she’s always wanted, being the whole romantic actress type and all. Then we even got an engagement picture taken that same evening. “Then today after church,” continued Frank breathlessly, “‌I had some meetings I had to be at in my own ward today, and she wanted to show off her ring to all her friends at her ward, and the times don’t quite overlap so I couldn’t see her until—anyway, after church I practically ran over there and walked in and went to hug her and pow!”

“She slugged you?”

“No, I mean I walked in and instantly I was in the doghouse. She called me a … anyway, she was rude and didn’t want me anywhere near her, and I had no clue why. Then when I said I had no clue what was wrong, that was my fault too, apparently. Then she was crying, and for the first time we really were mad at each other but there was no ‘kiss and make up’ option, and I wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Finally it came out that she was upset because I didn’t order enough wedding announcements and they weren’t ‘elegant’ enough. I mean, honestly, she has a point, and we could’ve talked it out, but tonight was weird. We’ve disagreed about things over the past month, but we always settled them easily and there was never any name-calling or anything. What?” This last was because Alan was shaking his head and grinning.

“Frank, Frank, Frank.”

“What?”

“Let’s summarize here. She’s emotional and unpredictable, you’re supposed to read her mind, and you’re to blame for everything. Hello? Have you forgotten her chromosomal anomaly?”

“Chromosomal …?”

“Two X’s, man! She’s a woman! All those features practically define women.”

Frank burst out laughing but shook his head. “You’re positively atavistic, Alan. It’s a wonder your knuckles don’t drag on the ground when you walk.”

“Yeah, I know, women equal men and all that, but which of us is understanding the situation? Huh? I tell you, it’s all in the X’s.”

“I don’t know, Alan. I’m telling you this was different. This was not her today. She’s normally the easiest person to talk to I’ve ever met. She’s never been obnoxious or even ad hominem or for that matter anything at all but a poster child for the perfect woman.” He gave his dishes a quick wash and set them in the drying rack. “Actually, she’s still the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and I still sometimes can’t believe she even speaks to me, much less wears my ring.”

Alan shook his head smugly. “Like I said, besotted. Well, best of luck, buddy. Look, I never said she was worse than any other 46XX type. I’m just saying. …”

“Yeah, I get it. Good night, Alan.”

In his room, as Frank stretched before settling into his weight routine, the words “selfish tightwad” kept echoing in his mind. Tightwad: odd how word choice spins it. Couldn’t we say “frugal” or “careful with my money”? It really doesn’t grow on trees. The prophets have talked about it over and over: “avoid debt like the plague,” “interest never sleeps,” all that. But OK, even if I don’t think it’s wrong to be a tightwad, fine, probably guilty as charged. But “selfish”? Selfish? I’ve never thought of myself as selfish. No more than the next guy, anyway. I mean, how can you wash your girlfriend’s dishes just ’cause you love her and still qualify as selfish? Make that “fiancée’s dishes,” now, I guess. … I hope.

Memories of the past month flooded into Frank’s mind as he did his first sets, bench press first as always. Christine’s nonchalant forgiveness when he showed up 10 minutes late to their first “real” date. Her finding an expensive ticket for him to her sold-out musical. Her listening raptly to his excited effusion about a chemistry class, and his only realizing on the way home that she hadn’t taken enough chemistry to understand his point, and hated chemistry anyway. Her spontaneous hugs and her spontaneous singing for joy.

Suddenly Frank realized which two words were coalescing in his mind and he almost dropped the barbell on his chest before racking it. He stared towards the ceiling. Generous. Spontaneous. Who’da thunk it? The things I admire about her are generosity and spontaneity. Here what I worry about is being punctual and upright and thrifty, and I’ll bet she could care less. It occurred to him that if she cared so much about being generous, she probably judged him by whether he was generous too. So does she think I’m generous? Not today, that’s for sure.

Frank mused on the unfairness of that judgment for about three more reps, but then a related thought struck him. If she was feeling that upset, all he was doing was carping about it to his roommate. Not much of a great start for a relationship of emotional intimacy and mutual trust.

He picked up a dumbbell but stopped literally in the middle of an arm curl with a new realization. How could he live 24 years and never consider whether other people viewed his frugality as a virtue or as a lack of generosity? He resumed his curls as the answer was obvious. She was the difference in his life. A kind of awe filled him as he contemplated the changes in his life since they’d met. For the first time I can almost appreciate that annoying song, ‘You light up my life.’ She really does. The words he had read that delightful first morning on Y Mountain came back to him. The way he felt now, it was hard to believe that he had ever empathized with feeling “as dead, having neither death nor life.” It’s like the old cliché, at least when you hit your thumb with your hammer, you know you’re alive. Even today when I’m worried like crazy about my relationship with Christine, at least I know I’m alive. And after all, one bad day is just one bad day. Some guys I know have a whole bad marriage.

Frank set down his weights and knelt at the side of his weight bench. Dear Father, I thank thee so much for answering my prayer that beautiful day last month. I thank thee for the privilege of meeting Christine, and I am so grateful that she said ‘yes.’ Please bless me with humility, that I can continue to see my faults and wherein I need to repent. I thank thee for Christine’s ability to bring me to see things about myself that I have never noticed before, and for her making me feel so happy and alive. Please help me to remember for the rest of my life how happy I have been this past month. In the name … Oh, and—here his heart swelled within him—I thank thee so much for answering my prayers this week to let me know for sure if she is the one I should marry. If on a day like this I am this happy and she is blessing my life so much, surely it can only get better and better from here on. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Frank walked over to the phone to call Christine, but by this time it was late, and besides, she’d pretty much told him to wait until tomorrow. He decided to go to her apartment first thing tomorrow, then realized he’d have to wait until after the biochemistry extra credit lecture. He spent the next half hour planning how to apologize and bracing himself to be warm and loving no matter what she said. A smile tweaked the corner of his mouth as he drifted off to sleep. He was sure he’d be ready no matter what she did or said tomorrow.