A Simple Thing by Kathleen McCleary Page A

waist.
    â€œDreamy,” Betty said. “Isn’t that the word now? Married life is dreamy.”
    â€œMarried life is dreamy, huh?” Bobbie said. “That’s why you’re over here at eight p.m . on a Saturday night?”
    â€œ You’re over here. Where’s your husband?”
    â€œIt’s Dick’s regular poker night. I come here every Saturday for dinner.”
    â€œBill’s out with friends.”
    â€œUh-huh. What was the fight about?”
    â€œThere wasn’t a fight.”
    Bobbie lifted the lid from the cast-iron skillet and poked the pot roast with her fork.
    â€œHe shouldn’t be arguing with you so soon after you lost the baby. No woman is in her right mind for a few months after something like that.”
    Betty told her about Alaska.
    â€œI’m going to pour us a drink,” Bobbie said.
    So here they were freezing their asses off on the porch, with the gin burning a path down their throats and Smelly lying at their feet, calm and unbathed.
    â€œYou don’t have to go to Alaska,” Bobbie repeated.
    â€œWell, I don’t want him to be miserable.”
    â€œGet pregnant again.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Betty said. “I think Bill would rather wait a while. He wasn’t really thrilled I got pregnant so fast.” She sighed. “Although I may not be able to help it.” It was hard to use the rhythm method when they were having sex three or four times a week, and her desire for him was strongest at exactly the time of the month when she was supposed to abstain.
    â€œThen figure out a compromise,” Bobbie said. “He wants to go to Alaska, you don’t, so think of someplace you want to live and convince him he wants that, too.”
    Betty rolled her eyes. “You read too many magazines,” she said. “I’d like to see you convince Bill Pavalak of anything.” She closed her eyes and took in the scent of the Douglas firs that towered next to the house, the aroma of pot roast, the slightly musty smell of the old wooden porch. “And I don’t want to leave Seattle. I’m happy here.”
    â€œYou should have thought of that before you got married.”
    â€œI didn’t really think about much other than Bill before I got married.”
    â€œI know,” Bobbie said. She was quiet for a moment, rocking on the porch. “He’s not the type who’s going to be happy in one place, Bets. You’ve got to indulge his taste for change in some areas, so he doesn’t indulge it in others.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Betty’s voice was sharper than she meant it to be.
    â€œIt means he stepped out on his first wife—don’t look at me like that, Dick told me about it. And you don’t want him to cheat on you.”
    â€œIf I’ve got to move to Alaska to make sure he doesn’t cheat on me then I shouldn’t have married him,” Betty said.
    A dog barked down the street. A long silence filled the space between them, and grew until it seemed to Betty almost like a tangible thing.
    â€œSo that’s what you think,” Betty said finally, her voice flat. She adored Bobbie, whose calm optimism had always been a touchstone for her. Bobbie’s silence stung.
    â€œHe loves you, Bets, I really believe that. I wouldn’t have let you marry him if I didn’t. But he’s a guy who likes adventure and change. He’s not going to be happy working nine to five in an office every day for the rest of his life, then coming home to a house on Queen Anne Hill with a bunch of kids. So you have to figure out how to get some of what you want—like a big family—and give him some of what he wants.”
    Betty said nothing, but rolled Bobbie’s words over and over in her mind during the next few weeks. Bill had come home drunk that night, and then apologized the next morning. He’s the kind of guy