The Third Part of Chapter 9: The New Arrangement

On Friday evening, and James and Clarissa were in living room, discussing James’s relationship with Margaret, which by now should have been amicable, but had gotten off on the wrong foot at the outset. James thought to himself that this resembled a stereotypical session with a psychologist, and had Clarissa asked “how’s your relationship with my mother?” he wouldn’t be at all surprised; he actually might find that incongruously funny, and was half-relieved when that phrase did not make an appearance.

“I don’t understand your mother; for some reason she didn’t warm up to me.”

“I don’t really understand it myself; maybe she hasn’t seen enough of you,”

“I know I may have a few things wrong with me, like my eating habits, for instance; but does Margaret really need to dwell so significantly on every single fault I have?”

He recalled the phone conversation Clarissa had had with Margaret two nights previously, which he felt lingered rather unfairly on the topics of his waistline, which was not even so bad, and his job, which he thought was quite good; what made that woman think work would keep him away from Clarissa? That she would make these comments was one thing; but she seemed to find nothing good with him, ranging from his clothes, to what he was cooking for dinner. Listening to her led him to the conclusion that it was she, rather than he who was wrong. Is it not hypocrisy when someone is unable to find anything good with you? No, but it certainly leads there.

“You know, there can’t possibly be that much wrong with me, and her ‘worries’ about me working to much are simply spurious.”

“I’m sorry if my mother has such an attitude toward you; I personally think she gets judgmental of people at times,”

“You mean all the time? Could you tell her that she doesn’t need to read negative things into all of my actions, and some of what she says sounds like gratuitous attacks?”

“She also seemed to take it as something of a personal affront that I was moving in with you, and not the other way around. Did she really expect us to move in to that tiny apartment? No; your house is so much better,”

I also quite like the old Victorian feel to the building; it gives a sense of heritage and it looks distinguished, thought James.

“I think she has a certain mindset: the man must do x for his wife, and if x is not done, or if the wife does it, then it is simply not okay, no matter what. She can be at least a little judgmental.”

“I don’t think so; mom just needs to warm up a little to you, honey,”

“I hope that’s the case; mom seems very close to you,”

“Oh yes, Patricia’s been very nice,”

“Do you think it may have something to do with that common stereotype?”

“The one where a mother is less than warm to her son-in-law? Maybe, I don’t know; I hope not,”

“It certainly gets portrayed a lot in the media,”

“Who doesn’t know Patty and Selma Bouvier?”

“It’s because the tumultuous relationship is full of drama and conflict, upon which comedy thrives,”

“I hope that your relationship with mom improves and becomes something less dramatic and more predictable,”

“She probably wants that too; she doesn’t seem to be trying very hard, though.”

“I’m bored; you want to do something fun in the bedroom?” Clarissa winked at him as she said this, and touched his hand suggestively, drawing it slowly to her thigh.


Belinda took a Saturday in September, incidentally the last Saturday of the summer, to get away from pavement, concrete and masonry and visit a more bucolic scene, in particular, the hilly nature reserve north of the city, to which she travelled by bicycle. After her trip to the nature reserve, she looked at her grapevines when she arrived home, and she saw that their leaves were just showing the first signs of changing colour, and decided what she needed to do: she needed to satiate her appetite for gossip; therefore, she called Christine.

“Hello Christine,”

“Hello Belinda; I’m sure you could just come over if you wanted to, considering you live just down the street.”

“I just finished a hike; my legs are sort of tired right now. What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know,” said Christine, in an effort to tell Belinda something in which she would be interested, without resorting to an overly wrought, fanciful tale about some mutual friends that may or may not be true. “I overheard Jim and Clarissa talking about monetary policy and discount rates when they passed by on their way to Hartman’s,”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Belinda.

“I’m just as much in the dark as you are,” said Christine.

“I don’t know what they talk about when they’re alone together, but they’re so boring when they talk to each other. Did you know they discuss each other’s credit ratings as a romantic turn on? Oh, and get this: I heard them calculating their psychic discount rates. Like, really! What the hell is that?” At that moment, there was a sort of disconnect between what she was thinking and what she was saying. Given this, it was only natural that she should make some errors. At this particular moment, she was considering what to put in the new planter she had purchased at the farmer’s market: parsley, rosemary, or thyme? She had made this purchase the previous Wednesday evening on impulse. She had been thinking something along the lines of “Ooh, shiny!” as she picked it up.

“Have you heard about what Patrick Wakefield is saying? He thinks we should protect domestic manufacturing, and stop the flow of jobs overseas. According to him, it’s a fast-growing concern, and I think he’s right.” Belinda liked the emotive arguments that Wakefield, the leader of the New Democrats, made, and really felt for the hard-pressed factory workers.

“Really? Shouldn’t they be finding jobs in the service sector?”

“Well, that would take some very expensive retraining, wouldn’t it? And anyways, I think it will be hard on them.”

Belinda thought it was a very good idea to protect jobs, in the same way that it was a good idea to protect health, and she was at a loss as to why so many people opposed it.

“Well, maybe if those jobs are going to other people, then it’s a good thing,” said Christine, though she was far from certain. She had studied psychology in university, not trade, and thus she was unfamiliar with the ins and outs of exchange.

“Oh, by the way, how’s Zack doing?”

“Zack? The one Eunice keeps inviting over for dinners when I’m at her house? He seems all right; they’re not too interested in what’s going on at his job, though; they only care about their own books.” Christine was referring to Eunice and Mario; Mario, even though he ran a Food Basics, hired somebody else to help him with the accounting, though Eunice counted up all the receipts and inventory herself; Belinda thought that perhaps Zack would have some business opportunities on the side with Mario.

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you, Christine,” said Belinda, and with that, she ended the call. She then let her mind wander to James and Clarissa. They were really quite boring together, she thought; she had never met Clarissa’s parents, and the stereotype of the in-laws, as ruthlessly promoted and portrayed by Patty and Selma Bouvier, gave a fertile ground for speculation; was the mother like the daughter, pretty, but rather boring? Did she go for boring men? James’s parents, on the other hand, she knew well, considering they lived just a few blocks north; to her, they seemed the typical retired couple, even though neither was retired, and still very much in love with each other, which was sweet, but again boring. Boredom seemed to be a state ideally aimed for in a happy life, she thought, and she read somewhere, she could not remember exactly, that one should only aim to be in the news twice: as a birth notice and as a death notice. James and Clarissa were aiming very much for this sort of life, as was she, though she had to admit she was far from happy; there was the completely messy divorce a while back, and what on earth was I thinking marrying that insensitive man, she thought. She then went to the kitchen and washed the dishes in the sink, while her black cat, Pollux, watched lazily from the dining room table, where it was sitting by the vase full of dried flowers.

“Hello Pollux, have you enjoyed playing with your neighbourhood friends?” Pollux stretched his legs contentedly. Belinda knew that Christine had a new cat, and she knew that Pollux knew this as well; she had seen him over there. Then Belinda realised she forgot to ask about Zachary; she knew Eunice was attempting to play matchmaker in getting Christine and Zachary together, but she had no idea how that was going. Maybe next time, she thought.

Previous Next