21st Century Fox

 

“My French student took me aside today and said, “Tout est juste dans l’amour et la guerre.”

“What does that mean?”

I was surprised she answered so quickly, her eyebrow brush was only half way done in its sweep. She usually ignores me when she’s busy putting on her face.

“All is fair in love and war.”

“Not sure of that.”

 

Now it was mascara applied with a spiral brush. The Chanel lipstick would be next. Or maybe the lipstick from the 99 Cent Store, I wasn’t sure which. It depended on the color.

Me, I was shoving my black dress belt through the loops of my Dockers®. As usual we were late, Jim Morrison, Lizard King, 20th Century Fox, late.

“Well, it’s a cute idea,” I continued,” but full of baloney. There’s nothing about love that’s war-like. If there was, they wouldn’t call it love.”

“You mean there isn’t a struggle?”

“Our love isn’t a struggle, is it, Babygirl?”

 

She put down her accessories, and cast her glance to the mirrored doors of the closet.

“No, and it shouldn’t be… at first. We’re too busy fusing.”

I like it when she uses the term “fusing” it’s so graphic, so evocative, and so scientific. My woman can be scientific even without wearing her glasses. She knows her field. She dominates it. The only field I know anything about is full of retired race horses and clover.

“But love should be easy, relaxed, just let it flow naturally.”

“But love isn’t just a thing, a noun. It’s an action, a verb. You have to work at it so it doesn’t get stale.”

“But we’re doing a good job fusing now, let’s keep it up. There’s no harm in that.”

She moves to the Versailles mirrored hallway and starts searching for a fashionable dress, a pair of high heels, and a purse suitable for the occasion. I tuck in my shirt, button down the collar, and search the opposite closet for my Calvin Kline jacket. It’s not there, so I go for the hallway closet instead, the one where we keep the umbrellas.

 

 

“There may be. Too much fusing isn’t good either. Couples get too fused sometimes and lose their separate identities. The person they fell in love with originally, is lost in the process.”

“And they probably wonder what when wrong. We’ll have to watch for that.”

Now she’s all dressed and ready to go. Gee, she’s fashionably lean and fashionably late. And she won’t waste time on elementary talk. Why, she’s a 21st Century fox.

“We will,” she says, as I hand her a coat. “We’ll be alert and not be afraid of expressing our true feelings with each other. Anything of value takes work. Life is supposed to be a struggle. From struggle you grow. Love and connections are serious matters; they deserve our full attention, and need to be nourished.”

“Well, right now we need to be nourished as well. We’re going to be late to dinner if we don’t hurry.”

With my hand guiding the small of her back we walked out the door, got into the car, and took off like a 747. Tonight it would be dinner at Fidel’s, with the grandkids and news of faraway places from her daughter, the international globe-hopping corporate attorney of Schmizal, Schmizal, and Schmizal.

Together, we make meaning out of chaos. I love my life.

 

 

©StevenHunley2014