Florida

My hands hurt as I wash the dishes, my arthritis acting up. I’m not even scrubbing hard, just giving them a rinse before putting them in the Dishwasher. I’m still not used to having one so I keep putting the dishes in the sink to soak. Charlie says that I can just put the plates in the Dishwasher without rinsing them first and that i do it because I “Like to complicate things.” He doesn’t believe me when I say the dishes don’t look as nice when I don’t rinse them first. He says he can’t tell the difference.

I think Charlie likes to pretend everything is easier and simpler than it is, so I’ll want to use it more. He’s always been casual about things, not minding stains on t-shirts, or marks on tables. I think he got it from his father, a man who could never tell when I got a haircut, or when it was time to get one himself. He was industrious though, a plumber who had worked for 30 years without a real vacation. He put two kids through college, and we were able to retire from New England winters to a sunny life in Florida.

At least we did that for a year, and then his heart gave out. Right in our front yard, on the way to pick up the paper. From then on, Florida changed from a place where Me and Michael would make new friends while hosting old ones, to a terrifying reminder of my own mortality. We didn’t have friends here. I didn’t have friends here.

Charlie moving in was a god-send. Even if he didn’t believe me about the dishwasher, it was better cleaning two plates instead of just one.