“Sarah, watch carefully.”
“Watch what?”
“How Robert likes his clothes folded.”
“He can fold his clothes.”
Barbara had very different plans for me.
“He doesn’t like wrinkles.”
“Neither do I. Somehow I’ve survived.”
Barbara ignored me.
Then she handed me the clippers. “Pay attention. After the wedding, this becomes your responsibility.”
I laughed.
Watch carefully.
Neither of them did.
“I’m not cutting a grown man’s toenails.”
Barbara’s expression hardened. “Then perhaps you’re not ready to be a wife.”
I turned toward Robert. “Tell her you’re joking.”
“Mom’s right. You’re getting a husband, Sarah. That comes with responsibilities.”
This becomes your responsibility.
“I’m marrying you, not adopting you.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
I wanted to believe this was some bizarre family misunderstanding.
The following afternoon, Robert made sure I understood exactly what he meant.
You’re not ready to be a wife.
***
We were eating lunch with coworkers when he announced, “Sarah still needs some training before the wedding.”
