Stories from the Walk

His mood turned suddenly, darkening a bit from the hopeful rhythm of just moments before.  Disappointing news can cause a dramatic shift in one's mood when it is unexpected.

"Aaron, are you alright?" asked his wife of nearly nineteen years.

No answer.

"Come on, honey.  It'll be alright."

Sure, he thought.  It'll be alright for you.  You hadn't been counting on this. 

He sat and stared at his breakfast plate, with a strained expression, running through the possibilities.  What other options were there?  He could hear Susan in the background, droning along like a Charlie Brown teacher's voice and making no impression upon his thoughts.

This wasn't simple to solve because there weren't any substitutes, and solutions like those of a twelve year old Aaron using water instead of milk in his Cheerios wasn't the kind of thinking that would help at a time like this.  His thoughts drifted to the culpable party in this instance and he wasn't even aware that he had begun to glare at Susan.

"Aaron!  Really?  Are you going to let bad news like this ruin things?" Susan challenged.

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me.  Explain to me why I should be the target of your frustration and my Sunday is going to be dragged down along with yours."

This was a trap, he knew it.  Whether or not laid intentionally by Susan, this was a trap.  If he explained his perspective . . .  his pain, his irrationality would become the topic of a Sunday morning's debate such as bad political pundits exchange on This Week with George Stephanopolous.  He could see it now.

Stephanopolous:  Susan, you've been reporting for years on the Aaron administration's policies toward the subject.  Have they gone too far this time?

Susan:  Well, George, this administration certainly isn't demonstrating a capacity to be responsive and flexible to ever changing domestic events such as you might expect from mature leadership.  This isn't the first time, either.  Don't forget the garage door incident.

Stephanopolous:  Remind the viewers what you're referring to, Susan.

Susan:  Just six months ago administration policy with respect to garage door security was breached due to an internal oversight in which a garage door at the Off-white House was left open overnight.  At the time, administration officials, and President Aaron himself communicated to the public that no unauthorized releases had occurred.  Privately, however, it is well known that President Aaron was embarrassed by the incident and chastised Off-white House officials for their lack of diligent enforcement of the administration policy on garage door security.

Stephanopolous:  Susan, what do you think this says about the status of this administration's competency to lead?

Susan:  I think it says that this administration has a lot of growing up to do in order to mature into then kind of government that can lead into really stormy seas.

Stephanopolous:  Thanks for being with us, Susan.

Susan:  Thank you, George.

Aaron hated it when people replied "thank you" to being thanked for participating in an interview.  It's "You're welcome," for petesake.

"Aaron!  Snap out of it and talk to me!"

"I just don't understand why this kind of thing has to happen, Susan."

"Well, maybe that's because you don't understand how this kind of thing gets done around here, Aaron."

Crap, Aaron thought. Her tone shifted, which means he either had to give this up or go all the away.  Maybe there really wasn't a problem and we were just dealing with an oversight, he thought.

Determined, he moved to the kitchen pantry and began searching, tossing to the side what didn't work.  He created a pile in the counter of dusty jars and boxes of ingredients and toppings they would never use.  His Labrador, Smuckers, moved in cautiously to nose the discards for recovery opportunities, sensing his master's mood and being careful not to draw Aaron's attention under the circumstances.

"Aaron!  You're making a mess, you psycho!"

Oh, yeah, he thought.  I'm the psycho until I actually find it.  Then you'll be found out for the lazily indifferent and uncaring wife you've become.  Let them put THAT on the Sunday morning tv shows.

"Aaron, we've got marmalade.  Come in here and eat your toast," Susan pleaded, watching a disaster unfold in her kitchen. "Your eggs and bacon are getting cold."

Smuckers began to groan, with little agitated yips reflecting the mood of his master.  He could sense a climax approaching.

"Ah, hah!" Aaron yelled.  "Ah, hah!  I knew we'd have some.  I knew it!"

He ran the full seven steps back to the kitchen table, jubilantly slamming down onto the table the treasure for which he had toiled.  Susan rolled her eyes, trying not to give any credit to her husband's achievement.

"I don't see what the big deal is," she said, continuing to read her newspaper and sipping coffee.  "It's just grape jelly."

"The big deal is, my dear, that we are a grape jelly house."

Susan stared at him, turned back to her newspaper and coffee, responding in a muffled tone under her breath.

"What's that, Susan?" inquired Aaron sarcastically.  "I didn't catch that.  Was that your apology?"

She lowered the newspaper enough to glare at Aaron over the top edge, which made the headline facing Aaron a caption for her momentary photo:  "Domestic Turmoil Threatens The Presidency".

"I said, 'You're an idiot!'"

He smiled and thought to himself, "Maybe.  But I'm an idiot with grape jelly on my toast."

copyright 2011 Michael Humphrey