Bob leaped out of the car and slammed the door. He even remembered to glance at his watch before dashing into the house. Wow won't Lacy be surprized. I'm actually here on time for once!
“Hi, Hon, I'm home!” he called a moment later and was greeted with: silence. “Hon? Honey? Where are you?” He headed for the kitchen. She wasn't there. He headed for the utility, she wasn't there. “Lacy? Lacy!”
“I'm here, Bob.”
Bob stopped and stared. Why was Lacy laying in a huddled heap on the sofa. Why was she---crying? In an instant he was kneeling at her side. “What's the matter, sweetheart? Are you okay?” Sure she had jokingly said she never wanted a kid, but he knew she had been thrilled to find out she was pregnant. Was she threatening to miscarry?
Lacy struggled to a sitting position and threw her arms around her husband, but continued to sniffle incoherently.
“I, I just don't understand you. Can you take a deep breath and start over again?”
“It's on the T.V.”
Bob turned. And looked. The aftermath of a tsunami. He had seen the footage a dozen times.
Children crying while looking for their parents, people bewildered, frightened and in despair. He tried to be sympathetic.
“Did you see someone you know?” Why is she upset? She isn't even Filipo!
Lacy shook her head. Bob sniffed the air. No smell of supper cooking.
“Say, I know what will make you feel better. Let's go out to Boston Pizza! Would you like that?”
Lacy shrugged. As if food can cure the world's ills. But she nodded. He gallantly ran off to fetch her coat and helped her into it.
“But everyone will know that I've been crying.”
“Here, put on your sunglasses. No one will guess.”
“In winter?” Lacy giggled. “You're crazy, Bob.”
“Well, we'll go someplace where the lights are dim. Just name the place.”
Soon they were motoring slowly down the busy city streets.
“Oh look that's Brent and Sandra's car. I'm sure of it. Sandra's a great friend of yours. Let's go in there.”
“I don't want them to know that I have been crying.” (Again.)
But Bob wasn't listening. He actually managed to find an empty parking spot and was deftly maneuvering the car into it. Lacy rolled her eyes as she clutched her dainty white silk purse and tootled after him. Sometimes he is just a bit too much for me.
“Hi, Brent! Hi, Sandra! Wow, we managed to get here just in time! Mind if we eat with you? Where are the kids?”
Lacy glanced around nervously. Everyone is staring at us. “Can't you speak a little quieter? she whispered.
Sandra glanced at her but managed to hide a quick grin before Bob noticed. If he would have even noticed.
“They are both at sleepovers so we managed to have a little time for ourselves,” Brent was saying.
“Oh, then we don't want to bother you,” Lacy exclaimed. “We could eat somewhere else!”
Both Brent and Sandra protested so soon they were following them to a secluded table at the far side of the room.
As they looked over the menus, the conversation was lighthearted, casual, but while they waited for the food they were soon knee deep into the study of temperaments.
Lacy didn't know how it happened but soon they—and not only Bob, either, this time, was spilling it all out about Lacy's reaction to a (mere) T.V. program.
Sandra expressed sympathy for Lacy's reaction, and Brent agreed, but Bob protested.
“Yeah, I know it's awful, and all that, but she doesn't even know them.”
Brent nodded, and fingered his fork. Sandra reached across the round table and briefly touched Lacy's hand. Just then their drinks arrived and they were busy preparing their coffees exactly according to their own tastes. Bob took a big gulp of his without tinkering with it.
“Whew, that was hotter than I had expected.”
“It always is,” Lacy giggled.
“ You are a classical sanguine-melancholic couple.” Brent observed.
“What?! You're speaking Greek to me. Speak English please.” Bob took a more tentative sip this time.
“Oh Bob, “ Lacy pushed at him playfully. “ Temperaments. I've been talking about it off and on all month.”
Bob's expressive brow furrowed. “And I am supposed to be a...Sanguine...right? Better tell me what that is so I'll know how to play the role.”
“We're talking about Melancholics tonight,” Brent responded. “Lacy is a true-blue melancholy.”
Sandra flashed her younger friend a smile. “And a very special person.”
“They are generally more tenderhearted and sensitive than the rest of us old cronies,” Brent continued.
Bob nodded slowly.
“Perfectionists; talented in the arts.”
A big grin broke across the young husband's face. “You're talking about Lacy alright. Is there a book written about her somewhere? Show it to me so I can read it.”
He accepted his plate heaped high with ribs then handed Lacy her half order of salad.
They paused for a moment of silent prayer, then Bob continued. “God made us all so different.”
“But we're all precious in his sight,” Sandra added.
“And can be in each others, once we understand our differences and learn to know how they are meant to actually compliment each other.” Brent said.
“ I hear ya!” Lacy was afraid that Bob was going to do something inappropriate and blushed furiously while drawing back.
Brent grinned and slapped Bob on the shoulder. “You've gotta understand both Lacy and appropriate table manners. It wouldn't have been quite acceptable to have gotten all moochy in public here and you would have embarrassed Lacy terribly.”
Even Bob managed to get red in the face as he dug into his plateful of food with gusto. “I'll try to be more understanding.” He looked up thoughtfully. “So she isn't just being, well, grumpy or sulky, if she doesn't act cheerful like me?”
Their older friends both nodded. “And he isn't acting simply childish if he isn't acting like me!” Lacy cast Bob a teasing grin.
But Brent looked sober. “I think a lot of problems could be eased if people would take the time to try and understand each other.”
“To understand is to love.” Sandra said softly.
The waitress appeared at their table.
“Dessert anyone?”
Bob lit up. “Sure!”
Lacy rolled her eyes.
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