The new plan

Zachary unpacked Tyler’s Wedgewood china.

“Sweetheart,” Tyler said, an ever-so-slight hint of uneasy condescension in his tenor voice, “place those in the dining room china cabinet. You remember where we always kept them.”

He placed a white plate on the countertop and shrugged. Since Tyler had gone, Zachary had replaced the formica with an off-white stone. Tyler had inherited the Wedgewood from his mother, but Zachary gotten the house. He turned to face Tyler and faked a laugh.

“But darling,” he said, wary of where this might go. They’d never managed conflicts over domestic issues well at all. “You know very well I sold the china closet. We now have a credenza over there.”

Tyler paused a moment and looked down at his shoes, as if making sure he stood on his marker for a photograph. “What was I thinking. You put it where you think best, love of my life.” He said this in an even tone.

Ten minutes later Tyler came into the room with a charcoal painting of his mother as a young woman – Hildegaard, the mother-in-law whose every compliment came laced with an insult about Zachary’s domestic achievements. “Honey, would you mind if we hung this in the foyer above the crystal vase?”

Zachary massaged his forehead at the point where the crevice between the left and right brain resided. “Yes, dear. You may hang your mother anywhere you like.”