Outtakes from a Marriage Read Free Page A

sword), and that was the last I saw of it.
    This year I had opted for a different tack. Joe wanted to watch the announcements live, and I decided I’d rather be told the news, so we planned to meet for breakfast afterward. I was looking at my menu when he arrived at our favorite neighborhood spot. I wasn’t really reading it, just using it as a diverting focal point, and when I glanced up, there he was, a Yankees cap pulled down low over his eyes, moving between tables, ducking around waitresses and waiters.
    Christmastime…is here,
chimed the child-chorus from the recording of
A Charlie Brown Christmas
that the diner had been playing every day for the past week.
    A man seated at a nearby table called out, “Hey, Joey Ferraro! How’s it goin’?” and Joe nodded at him. “It’s going great, man, thanks.”
    Then he sat down beside me and glanced up from under the brim of his cap, grinning.
    “Oh…my…God,” I said slowly, reacting to his grin with my own. I bit my lip, searching his eyes cautiously, but I knew.
    “I got it.”
    “I knew you would!” I cried, and Joe grabbed the seat of my chair and pulled it right up next to his. He kissed me, and when he let me go, I was blinking back tears and laughing.
    “I wish I saw them announce it,” I said. “I should have had Catalina take Sammy to school. Who else was nominated?”
    “I need a coffee. Where’s the waitress? I’m starving,” said Joe, as if it were just another day, but then he placed his palms down on the table and pushed his shoulders back, causing his chair to tilt up onto its hind legs, and he grinned at the ceiling for a moment. He rocked forward a few seconds later, letting the chair slam back onto all fours, and he beat the table like a bongo drum. “I’m fucking starving.”
    We ordered our breakfast from Zara, the waitress who had been serving us breakfast for years, and Joe told me about turning on the
Today
show just seconds before his nomination was announced.
    “I thought I missed it, but I turned it on and the category they were announcing was for Best Actor, TV Drama. I was the first name they read. Joseph Ferraro.
The Squad.
”
    “When do we go to L.A.?” I asked.
    “I think the show is on January 22. It’s a Sunday. We’ll probably go out Friday.”
    “The twenty-second is Dad’s birthday,” I said. “You know I like to take the kids up to see Dad on his birthday.”
    “So go see him the weekend after,” Joe said. “He won’t know the difference.”
    “Yeah,” I said. And it really wouldn’t make any difference to Dad. He thought Gerald Ford was the president and that I was married to an astronaut. He told me that the last time I visited, told me how proud he was. I had asked one of the nurses if I should try to correct him when he was confused like that, and she just shrugged and said, “Nah, what’s the point? It’s easier on everyone if you just go along. Act as if.”
    By the time Zara brought our eggs, Joe had shut off the ringer on his phone, but it continued to vibrate nonstop, and he would look at the caller ID each time and tell me who was calling without answering. “That’s Scott.” “It’s somebody from the UK.” “It must be Frank.” “Mom.” He smiled each time he checked. “By the way,” he said, popping his last crust of toast into his mouth, “Brian Metzger called right after the nominations. He just wrapped that sci-fi movie. They want to have dinner.”
    “After Christmas,” I said, and then I said, “I’m really proud of you, baby.”
    He nodded, grinning broadly, drumming the table with his palms like a teenager.

[ two ]
    J oe was asleep by the time I finally put the phone down that night. He lay naked on his side with one of his hands, strangely palsied and twisted-looking, curled up under his chin. His dark brown hair fell over his eyes, his mouth hung slightly open, and I realized for the first time that Joe looks quite simian when he sleeps. The lower half of his