There Are No Answers // Falsettos

A Tight-Knit Family

We've been together for nine months. Or ten months. Marvin and I constantly bicker over the exact number. Truthfully, I think both of us just want to be right. But whether it's been nine or ten months, these last two of them have brought a lot of stress for us all.

"I don't know what else to tell you, Trina," Marvin is saying as I walk into our living room, having just gotten back from my weekly shopping trip. He's on the phone with his ex-wife, and I know from past experiences that it's best for me to give him some space. I go into the kitchen to put away the groceries, and I can hear his voice drifting in from the other room.

"If you're really feeling this bad, then go see a psychiatrist," he tells her. There's a quick pause. "Whom? I can give you Mendel's phone number— yes, that's who I've been seeing." Another pause. "Well, who else do you want to go see?"

I sigh, opening the cupboard where we keep the canned foods. This is endless. They're always arguing about something or other. Whether it's on the phone, or we're over there with Jason for dinner. Except it's not passionate like our arguments, it's just pure hatred and annoyance.

"Yes, he's been helping me," Marvin says into the phone. "I think you could really use—" he's cut off by her talking on the other end. "Okay, then. Do you want me to make an appointment for you?"

Every. Single. Day.

"Fine, then." I hear him hang up, then dial his psychiatrist's number. "Mendel, hi, it's me. I was wondering if you could set up an appointment for my wife..."

I frown and turn around, even though he can't see me.

"Er, ex-wife," Marvin corrects himself. "I was— yes, I recommended you to her. I was thinking it would be ideal since you already know me and— yeah, I think so too."

I don't know what Mendel is saying or what Marvin is agreeing with, but I hear him hanging up the phone as I'm finishing up with the groceries. I go into the living room, where he's standing up from the couch.

"Oh, you're home," Marvin says. Did he not even see me when I walked in? I'm about to ask him, but decide against it. He was busy. Whatever. "That's good. I meant to tell you, we're going over again tonight."

He doesn't have to say where, because I already know what he's talking about. "To Trina's? Again?" If we're going over, why was he just talking to her on the phone?

"I think it'll be nice," he tells me when he sees my dubious look. "We can't just sit around here all the time."

I sigh. But your ex-wife? This whole situation is hard enough on all of us without you trying to simulate a perfect, tight-knit family. I don't say that to him. But I want to. And I have been wanting to. It's just not really something we can talk about.

When we're at Trina's house, I spend most of my time talking with Jason. Trina's usually busy in the kitchen, so there isn't much interaction between the two of us. I like the kid. He tells me about what's going on at school, and he says he started playing chess in his free time.

"Does your mom know how to play?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "She doesn't play with me. I like playing alone."

"Oh. What about when your friends come over?"

Jason glances at me with a pause. "...They don't come over."

They don't...? Oh. I realize since Jason is such a shy kid, maybe he hasn't made any friends. Or maybe he just doesn't want them to come over because of the situation with his parents. But based on how he's looking away uncomfortably, I would guess the former.

I decide to change the subject, because I feel bad. "What about school?" I say. "Have you been getting good grades lately?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I was a terrible student," I laugh. "Have I told you this before? About how I spent almost all my class time in the hallway as a punishment?"

"Probably."

He's not very talkative tonight. I don't ask him what's going on. I decide it's best to give him some space. I get up and go to the kitchen, where Trina is cooking. I linger for a bit in the doorway. What do I say to her? I don't know where Marvin is, and he's usually the one talking when Trina and I are in the same room.

Before I can leave, she turns around and sees me. "Oh, Whizzer. Can you help me with this, please?" she asks, pushing her hair back.

I hesitate. "Uh, sure. Sure thing." I step awkwardly into the kitchen. "What do you want me to do?"

She points to the recipe book, open on the counter. "Could you get the seasonings prepared like it says?" She's slicing a chicken breast, glancing over at the book and reading the recipe over again.

"No problem," I assure. I slide the book closer to me and start to read through it. I pause when I notice the way Trina is cutting the chicken, almost aggressively. "Everything okay?"

"What? Oh, no. I mean, yes. It's fine." She sighs and shakes her head, and her hair falls into her eyes again. I raise an eyebrow at her as she's moving across the kitchen to wash her hands and to pull her hair back. She ties it up this time, then returns to the chicken.

"Look, Trina, I know that the circumstances are.. um..." I gesture from myself to her, and she just stares at me. "But you can talk to me."

"I don't need to talk to anybody."

I move the salt and pepper shakers aside to look through the spice cabinet. "Okay. Sorry. Just saying."

"I'm sorry, Whizzer, but it's a little hard to forget about the hurt from the divorce when my husband brings his boyfriend over for dinner all the time."

I frown. She's talking about me. And she said "husband." Sure, they aren't technically divorced, but now that Marvin and I are, maybe, getting more serious, the least they could do is—

"Hand me the oregano," Trina says, interrupting my thoughts. She's not looking at me, and I can tell she doesn't want to talk about her ex-husband and his "boyfriend" anymore.

To tell the truth, I don't know what Marvin and I are. It's weird now. I'm well acquainted with his family, but I still don't know how they feel about me. I don't know how I feel about them. I don't know how I feel about him.

Why is this all so hard? I'm thinking as I hand her the oregano.