Mr. & Mrs. American Pie by Juliet McDaniel

Author:Juliet McDaniel [McDaniel, Juliet]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkshares
Published: 2018-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

20

Robert Hogarth

Scottsdale

June 1970

“I’M NOT THRILLED about the cowboy hat, Maxine,” I try telling her as she puts it on my head. “It feels too”—I lower my voice since the kids are around—“too camp.”

She dismisses this concern as she does all others she disagrees with: with a Queen of England wave and a megawatt smile. “You look perfect. Manly and virile.” She stands on her tiptoes to adjust the brim. “Besides, we have a theme to maintain, Robert.”

I know all about “keeping up appearances,” but Maxine and her gosh-danged “themes” take everything too far. It makes me nervous and then some. We stand at the front door of her condo as she sees me off to work in the morning. Perfectly on theme as a fashionable Southwestern American couple, with Maxine in her ornate turquoise necklace and Indian beaded sandals and me in my brand-new tobacco-brown cowboy hat. We look like a couple who’s never been to a ranch or seen a horse a day in their lives. And yet here we are, Mr. and Mrs. Marlboro Man. Never mind that I’m from Illinois, while Maxine is from—where is Maxine from? San Bernardino, California? She mentioned once not being from there originally, though. Her mother is French? Or married to a Frenchman? Either way, neither of us is remotely “on theme,” anywhere outside of a Halloween contest at a Milwaukee YMCA.

I take the cowboy hat off the moment I’m in the car. I do have the sense to bring it into the tavern with me, though. A gentleman never wears it indoors, but he sure as heck better have it sitting behind the bar lest he get in Dutch with the missus. This is a good call, since Maxine and the kids do indeed pop in for a late lunch. They stumble in, with Chuck charging ahead to dunk dimes in the jukebox. Maxine struggles to balance a fussy Dawn in one arm while carrying a bright pink diaper bag and grown-up lady handbag on the other arm, all while teetering in heels. She makes it to the corner booth, but Dawn’s sticky little baby fingers reach out and grab at Maxine’s pearl necklace.

“Charles!” she warbles, sending the boy running over with a booster seat. Chuck slides into the booth, blocking Dawn in on one end while Maxine piles up the diaper bag and handbag on the other end. Dawn’s happy to slap the tabletop with both hands, but we all know that won’t last. Thankfully, Chuck’s a seasoned pro at tying down his sister. In less than three seconds, he’s got the chair’s straps secured around all four of Dawn’s limbs. We all breathe a silent sigh of relief when we hear the strap click. Of course, this also signals to Dawn that she’s trapped, which prompts a good long minute of her bucking and hollering.

Maxine collapses with all intended drama, letting her forehead rest on the table.

“And how’s motherhood treating you today, Maxine?” I inquire.

Maxine’s hand shoots up. “Mrphnnee,” she moans.

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