Funny Like A Clown

In the history of the Fisher family, I tended to make self-improvement proclamations for the betterment of all like I was The King of the Forest. Because Mark was busy with his career and had bigger fish to fry, he gave me enough chain to cause me to believe I was being taken seriously but not enough to think I had any control over the ragamuffins under this roof.

I’d throw down gauntlets like:

• There will be a mandatory meeting at 6:00 p.m. to discuss the division of labor in this household.
• I will no longer be doing laundry for this family and by this family I mean you people.
• Remember when we got the dog and everybody said they’d take turns walking him? You have now forced me to schedule you for a shift.
• Our vacation is in danger of being cancelled for insubordination.
• If you keep leaving dirty dishes in your bedroom we will have a roach infestation and the county health department will shut this house down and we will have to live in the car.

Behind the scenes I think Mark gathered his frightened little fishes around and said, “If this is anything like your Mom’s affirmations to eat better and exercise more it should last three days tops and then we’re back to being as good as gold. Just toe the line for a few days and don’t worry about going on vacation. It may be without Mom but we’re going.”

I’d issue decrees in our marriage too. Helpful tips for Mark to be a better husband in which he’d nod and say, “Good idea,” and shove a spoonful of Wheaties in his mouth while working on his computer. I’d say, “You’re not even listening to me,” and then he’d repeat verbatim what I said so that always backfired. If Oprah had a particularly interesting show I’d wait until we were in bed and say, “So I was watching Oprah today and there was a marriage expert on and he said……..” After a few years of that Mark rolled over one night and said, “I can’t with the Oprah stuff. I just can’t any more.”

Many years ago one of his colleagues was separated and going through a painful divorce and we invited him for Thanksgiving. I was disappointed that we couldn’t spend the holiday with family, and, Mark, who decided he would be in charge of the turkey was doing it all wrong in my opinion. I was so mad at him that I left with the dog and walked for an hour but as soon as I got home we started arguing again. Finally he said, “What is wrong with you? Why are you being such a bitch?” I screamed, “I’M PREGNANT and everything makes me want to puke especially the smell of this turkey.” Admittedly, the delivery of my breaking news flash was not the best (or even close) and he stared at me and said, “You’re pregnant?? What? Really? You’re really pregnant? That’s crazy and good, really good,” and it was because it always took us a long time to get pregnant and this was a wonderful surprise. We hugged and cried it out, I asked him to quit opening the oven door so much because the smell was making me gag, he said he’d try but that he happened to be a masterbaster and who wants a dry turkey, and the dinner went off without a hitch except for Mark who would smile and lean over to me every few minutes and say, “You’re really pregnant?”

A year later when this colleague’s life had settled down he wanted to have a party to thank everyone who helped him out during his rough patch and Mark and I were invited. He had gotten a hot tub which were very new at the time, and the invite was explicit in including that we should come with towels. When Mark told me I said, “Oh we can’t do the hot tub. We’ll have to leave before that happens.” Mark wanted to know why and I said, “Because, Mark, people go in hot tubs naked and I am not going to do that in front of your work friends. I just had my third baby and besides that it’s just wrong to not be wearing clothes at a party.” We went to the party and before long the hot tub talk started which was my clue to get Mark to leave. He was disappointed as he wanted to experience this new trend while I thought I was doing him and his chances at tenure a massive favor.

On Monday, Mark came home from work and said, “I have to tell you about the rest of the party and who turned out to be the biggest idiot.” Oh this is going to be good, I thought, and said, “Wait while I pour myself a glass of wine,” because I needed to savor this naked gossip and get comfy while hearing the deets. “So,” Mark said, “I go into work and everyone who went to the party wants to know why we left early because it was so much fun and I tell them that you were uncomfortable about the hot tub. They said it was great because the water was hot and it was really cold outside and it was the perfect night for it. I tell them that you didn’t want to be naked with everyone and they say NAKED?? We weren’t naked. We were wearing bathing suits so I say BATHING SUITS??? Kath told me you do hot tubs in the buff and they said well you can but you wouldn’t do that in front of a bunch of people. You’d wear a bathing suit. So you want to know who was the biggest idiot that night? You. It was you.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “You wear a bathing suit? I never heard of that. I read a People magazine article about Hugh Hefner and it sure looked like there was nakedness in that hot tub.” “HUGH HEFNER???!!!” Mark yelled. “Hugh Hefner from Playboy? We live in fucking Kansas. Didn’t you think it might be a bit different here from the Playboy mansion?” I obviously did not and then started laughing hysterically and said, “Oh my god, Mark, we should have stayed and when everyone was in the hot tub with their bathing suits on we could have paraded out naked and acted like it was all cool. Wouldn’t that have been so funny? Like we didn’t get the memo?” Mark looked at me and said, “Sure, Kath, real funny, funny like a clown.”

A few days before Mark died we were sitting at the dining room table eating dinner. The back of our house faces our neighbor’s screened in porch and I noticed them sitting out there. These neighbors are gay and have since moved, and we were crazy about them. They talked to Mark over the fence all the time, and when the Supreme Court ruled in favor of legalizing gay marriage we were so happy for them we left a bottle of wine and a note for them on their porch. As we were eating dinner I said to Mark, “They always look like they’re having a serious conversation, don’t they? Sometimes I wonder if they might be breaking up.” “I don’t think so,” Mark said, “I think they’re just talking.” He kept eating and I said, “We should have more serious conversations and talk about our feelings.” Mark shoved a forkful of salad in his mouth and asked, “Haven’t we been doing that all weekend?” “Well, yeah,” I said, “but really serious and digging deep. You know, like lesbians do.” He looked at me and said, “If we’re not lesbians how are we supposed to communicate like them?” I let out a sigh and said, “We could try,” and by we I meant him.

A few days later the unimaginable happened and these dear friends came to the house, distraught like everyone else. The kids were here and we all cried when they walked in the door because they have always felt like family when our own family has always been so far away and were scrambling to get to us. They wanted to know what happened, they told me Mark seemed very off on that Sunday when they’d seen him outside, they were so very sorry for me and the kids. In the course of talking about that weekend I told them about the conversation between me and Mark and how I thought they always seemed to have such deep and meaningful conversations that we should emulate as a couple. They looked so puzzled when I said that and finally K. asked, “Am I bent forward with my head down?” “Yes,” I said, “exactly like that, like you’re intently listening.” She laughed and said, “Whenever we sit out on the back porch we play cards.”