"Wait.... Okay, I think she's in the other room now..." My grandpa said over the phone.
I could just see him peering around and over the couch to see my grandma rounding the corner into the kitchen and out of ear shot. I smiled waiting for him to start-up again.
"I told her the meatloaf smelled like it was burning!" My grandpa said with a laugh. "She bit that hook and set off in a lil' jog! It was really quite funny! Okay, go ahead, Mikey."
"Well, this is going to sound dumb, grandpa, but" I paused, "I just wanted to know how you and grandma kept it together all these years - through everything you two have seen and been through n'all. This is super cliche, but I was sorta wondering what the, well, the 'secret' was? If there is a 'secret' at all, I'm not sure."
"Mikey, what'da'ya got? Girl trouble? You're not gay are you? 'Cause if if you're gay it's okay buddy, Your cousin Daryl is gay and we still love..."
"Grandpa, I'm not gay, and I don't have 'girl trouble' exactly. I was just fishing for some pointers here, and Dad said you'd be a better source for such things."
"Your Pa said that?"
"Ya. He said that his records of divorces 'disqualified' him from having the conversation and that I should call you."
"Well, that is true, but I have no damn clue what I'm doing! Mikey, I've been married to that gal in there for over forty-eight years and I've gotten away with nothing! She's busted me red-handed at everything from placing bets on horses to once selling an old bicycle your Pa had and-sure-as-hell-didn't-use so's I could buy me a carton of Lucky Strikes. The thing is..."
"Wait, you sold dad's bike for cigarettes?" I questioned in a laughing fit.
"...Ya! What's the big deal? You gonna bust my chops now too?" My grandpa questioned, "That was, oh, 30 or 35 year ago for christ sakes! Anyway, Mikey, Listen, the secret is: THERE IS NO SECRET!! You're just compatible or you're not - nothing else to it, pal!"
"Really? C'mon, grandpa, there's more to it than that. Gotta be."
"Shhh," my grandpa said. I could hear hum muffle the phone and yell something about a charred smell "still lingering", "Okay, look pal, you want grandpa to get all deep and pathetic on ya aye? Well, I won't. But, I will tell you this: it is important that you touch your wife Mikey."
"'touch my wife'?" I questioned, laughing again.
"Hey, wise-ass, get your mind out of the gutter, pal!" My grandpa said, "Listen good 'cause she's going come back in here any minute, and I'm not about to let her see me spillin' the beans on marriage. Mikey, look, you have to touch your wife every day; you have to put your hand on her shoulder and squeeze it gently; you have to come up behind her when she's washing dishes at the sink and embrace her, placing your ear on the back of her neck; and, when you bed-down for the night, you have to face her and place your arms under and over her and hold her until your wrists and hands get numb and tingly. That's the secret pal - that's how you keep it together..."
My grandpa paused. Over the phone I could sense he was pondering these crucial actions, and I knew they were deep-rooted and sincere. I loved him for sharing this such a simple yet vital element of his relationship with my grandma.
"...WELL NOW, YES, THOSE REDSOX SURE-AS-HELL HAD A FALSE START THIS SEASON," my grandpa yelled, "Could not agree more with ya Mikey m'boy! Hey, listen, grandma just got back in the room and wants to say hello before we let ya go. Love to ya pal!"
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