The box that Steve gave him.  The presumptuous box.  Mike decided to open it.  What else did he have to do but watch television and maybe fall asleep.

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve joked, as he returned from his latest trip, this time San Diego. He was supposed to have an assignment in Dubai, but he told his bosses that he definitely had to be there for his sister-in-law’s wedding. Under no condition was he going to miss it. Ergo, San Diego, clearing his calendar for this coming weekend’s drive up to Scarsdale, where he would once again meet the charming Bernice Franklin. And the rest of the crew.

Was she so bad in bed that he had to look elsewhere? And how many times had he done the looking? Was it only with the whip master? Were there others? Patients? No, he wouldn’t. They might have a heart attack. But what about the nurses or staff? She never asked. The only one she knew about was Heidi, the rejuvenator. Leaving sad sack Bernice all to herself.

“I think I’ve made a friend or at least an ally. Beth. She’s married to Barry, Steve’s younger brother. They have the sweetest little girl, Sophia.” Eden laughed. “Beth said, if I ever have children and it’s a girl, I should definitely make an extreme effort to get along with Sandy. Girl’s clothes, she assured me, were very expensive, and there’s nothing like a grandmother to fill that closet. Although I have a feeling Sandy will never be filling the closet of any child of mine. It was little digs the entire time, which I chose to ignore. Steve said afterwards that he was very proud of me.”

Beth drove while Barry, on his cell, rustling through papers. You’d think with everything online, he wouldn’t need papers, but they seemed to calm him, as he could be quite hyper. Perfect for what they did, mostly. Her method was the calm, “Let’s see where this takes us,” response to frazzled clients. Never oversell as it could come back to bite you in the ass.

Marty never liked to argue with his wife. But— “Maybe you haven’t been as welcoming to Eden as you could be. I think we should be grateful to her. Steve is happy. How many nights have we pondered what was going to happen to him? You always said middle-child-syndrome. But, let’s face it, it was more than that. His only friend was basically his computer. Arrested for hacking, you’ll recall.”

Eden was puzzling over what strategy to use with her new husband. How was she to get her own way with a perfectly appropriate request? Steve was home from that short trip to Ontario, and this was the weekend they would drive up to Pennsylvania to see Steve’s parents—and the rest of his family.

I didn’t meet all of my husband’s family until our first trip to Israel in the summer of 1967, right after the Six Day War. The only introduction before that was to his older brother, who lived in New York City, the one we came to call Uncle Monster.

I said to myself, Carolyn, here’s the opportunity to make the world a better place. So several days later I drove—okay, that sort of negates making the world a better place, but it was too far to walk—to the Container Store and bought myself a kitchen counter composter.

I like remembering my friends’ birthdays. Two of them I’ve known since we were eighteen years old and in college together.

Bernice Franklin was in a flurry of excitement. Finally! One of her ungrateful brats had come through and left everything in her capable hands. She got to plan Riley’s wedding!

At home in the flatlands, I’m fortunate in that there are many walking paths I can take, either in the neighborhood or within a ten-minute drive. But I have a problem. I’m addicted to solitude. I don’t want to see another walker, I don’t want to have to say hello to someone with her dog, or to wonder if the person is talking to me or is on her phone, talking to whomever.

It seems that Mike wasn’t the only one who didn’t marry a Catholic, but every other potential spouse agreed to a church wedding to keep the Aherns happy. At least this is what Mike relayed to Riley.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” an FBI agent she knew only as Dick Trager said. He emanated such world weariness, as if everything was simply too much for him, including listening to her repeat her story again and again and again.

Was that a honeymoon or was that a honeymoon? Eden was still debating. Like, a seal identification lecture was romantic? And what about the penguin count? “This is probably something you’ll never do again,” Steve told her enthusiastically. You're damn right she wouldn’t be. Couldn’t they have just gone to an aquarium?

As Erin related this whole tragic series of events to us, I tried to contain my hysterics—laughter—while others of our group expressed such a deep feeling of empathy I had to wonder—are they joking? But, oh no. It seemed that every single person came up with their own bird story.

So what did I gain from this course—aside from the few dates with the instructor after the semester was over and I ended up with a A? I think I gained an appreciation of how varied we all are, how we have evolved or devolved over the eons of time.

So the truth was she didn’t want to get married until her father was behind bars so that there was no way he could walk her down the aisle, no way he could be in her wedding albums. When he was in prison, she would write to him maybe once a month, but that was it. He wasn’t dead to her, she just didn’t want him to be part of her life.

Bernice wrinkled the edges of the newspaper in disgust. Thad Dunkirk, who had no classes that day, thus had spent the night at Bernice’s condo in Scardale, looked up, his eyes wide behind rather thick glasses. “Did you see this article?” she asked him.

Exhausted, Riley was very much looking forward to this coming weekend. Who gets married on a Wednesday, anyway? Only Eden. Her little sister.