karenika - books - back when we were grownups

Back When We Were Grownups

"I'm thinking of taking a trip," she told Zeb on the phone.

Often, after she was in bed, the two of them would go over their respective days together - their minor triumphs and their petty irritations. She knew that was pathetic. Most people had husbands or wives whom they bore with such things. All Rebecca had was her kid brother-in-law - although "kid" was probably not the right term for a middle-aged bachelor doctor.

Tonight's party had been such a success that she hadn't had the heart to break it up at the designated hour. now she worried she was calling Zeb too late, but he said no, he was reading. He said, "A trip would do you good. A real rest. Maybe a cruise."

"I don't mean that kind of trip," she said. "I thought I might go see my mother. Just an overnight stay. Would you be willing to come to the house and sort ofreconnoiter. Check out my roots." She gave a light laugh.

"Zeb," she said, "do you ever get the feeling you've changed into a whole different person?"

Probably he didn't (he was living in the city where he'd been born, doing what he had planned to do since childhood), but he seemed to give her question serious thought. "Hmm," he said. "Well"

"I mean, look at me!" she told him. "I'm a professional party-giver! I never read anymore, or discuss important issues, or go to cultural events. I don't even have any friends."

"You've got friends," Zeb said. "You've got me; you've got the girls - "

"Those are relatives. And everyone else I know is some kind of repairman."

"You can have friends who are relatives. You can have repairmen friends."

"But what happened to the people I knew in college? Or in high school? Amy Darrow - the girl who had her engagement party the night I met Joe, remember? Whatever happened to Amy? I didn't even go to her wedding! By then I was married myself and all three girls had chicken pox."

"I'm sure you could track her down if you tried."

"I should get myself a dog," Rebecca said.

Zeb snorted.

She said, "If I had a dog to walk, it would be easier to meet people."

"You don't want a dog," Zeb told her.

"Well, it's true they're a lot of trouble," she said. She traced the stitching across her top sheet. "They need to be fed and watered and taken to the vet and such."

"They're as demanding as toddlers," Zeb said.

"Besides I don't even like dogs."

"Then you certainly don't want one."

"They bark at night, and chew things."

"Rebecca. Forget the dog."

"But how will I make friends, then?" she asked him. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn't seem to drop the subject once she'd gotten hold of it. "I'm not good at starting conversations with some stranger on the street."

"You could just walk around with a leash and an empty collar."

"What? How would that help?"

"You'd see someone and she'd ask, 'Excuse me, where's your dog?' And you'd say, 'Oh, no! My dog! I must have lost him! Could you please help me look for him?'"

"Then the two of us could go on walking, getting to know each other -"

"You'd have to be careful, though, not to let that person catch you doing the same thing to someone else the next day. She'd spot you up ahead of her, you'd be dragging your empty collar, you'd be saying to someone new, 'Oh, no! My dog! I must have lost him!'"

by now Rebecca had the giggles, and Zeb was laughing too.

Eventually, though, she said, "Well." She sighed. "I should let you sleep. I'll check with you again as soon as I figure out when I can leave."

"Any time," Zeb told her.

Then they said good night, and she hung up and lay back on her pillow.

The best way to travel to Church Valley was by car. Although it was possible, too, to take a bus. She could do that if she didn't mind a transfer. What was not possible was a train, but somehow, even so, she pictured going by train. She pictured sitting in an aisle seat, next to the son who would have been hers if only she had continued with the life she had begun.

Anne Tyler is one of my all-time favorite writers. If I had to pick one writer who's style I most admired and whose writing I'd love to emulate, it would be Anne Tyler. I've met many people who find her novels boring, but I've loved her from the moment I cracked one of her books.

Her novels are often about nothing specific, and they generally aren't inundated with twisting plots. Actually they don't even have much of a plot. They are glimpses into people's lives. Her stories often revolve around one character in a family setting and they are always introspective and thought provoking. I get attached to the lives of her characters and feel a sense of loss when I've reached the last page.

Her most recent, Back When We Were Grownups, is about a middle aged woman who suddenly realizes that she's turned into the wrong person.