How To Succeed in Marriage Without Really Trying

My parents have been married for 46 years. They claim the secret of their success is that they don't talk to each other. They have never discussed their schedules. They don't speak of their three children. It's anomalous for them to converse on their passel of grandchildren. The only things they deliberate on are gas prices and their elderly cat. Once, my mom vented about a fight with my dad. He'd had the audacity to ask her - on Tuesday - what they were doing on Thursday.

I failed to see the problem.

The problem, she expounded, was that they never, NEVER discussed their plans that far into the future. It had worked for 45 years, she didn't know why he was trying to ruin their marriage, and she had not forgiven him. She told him to leave the room and never ask that question again.

Their lack of communication is more impressive when you consider that my dad worked incredibly long hours when I was a child, and my mother worked and went to school from the time I was 6 until I was 20. I have a two-month dry-erase board that details my family's schedule, color coded to person, and I don't even work. My parents didn't talk and they managed to get each kid to where he was supposed to be for 15 years. Unreal.

Even worse, on the rare occasion they do discuss anything of importance, they completely disagree on what was said. So while my mom will tell you that she had no idea my father and I were having breakfast tomorrow, my dad will tell you that he told her when and where we were meeting so that she could join us after her Weight Watchers weigh-in. Back and forth they will go, each insisting the conversation did/did not take place.

Ask them about the cat and their stories are identical. Except on how he came to be their cat. My mom says my dad nearly ran him over with the lawn mower as a kitten. My dad says that's not what happened. He won't say what DID happen because my dad simply doesn't talk about anything unless he wants to. And he usually doesn't want to.

Probably the last day they ever spoke.

Now this problem has reached a whole new level. My mom is significantly less confused, but she still has her moments. Today, she wanted to know if I was still working at the job I quit 18 years ago. But the rest of the time she's totally fine and with it.

Enter my dad, who believes she is more confused than what I am seeing. She insists they held conversations that my dad swears never happened. Sound familiar? What's a girl to believe? I feel like Neve Campbell at the climax of Scream. I want to slam the door and shout, "Screw you both!" In a daughterly way, of course. I can't though. I get in trouble if I curse in front of my dad, and he considers anything above "pissed off" a curse. It makes no difference that I'm over 40 and haven't lived under their roof since Clinton was president.

So Saturday, when my mom declared that my dad had told her their insurance would not cover an ambulance ride from the hospital to rehab, I took it with a grain of salt. When my dad arrived, I asked him if he had, in fact, told my mom this.

Of course he hadn't. The conversation never happened. He had no idea what she was talking about.

Back to my mom. Yes, he did tell her that, she insisted. I know I have delirium, she pleaded, but he is forgetful. They had talked about the ambulance.

"Daddy," I said, "you know you have problems when the delirious lady is calling you forgetful."

Whom do I believe? The night before, my mom had divulged that my dad, he of the questionable ambulance conversation, had shot himself in the head. Twenty years ago. When my mom - this mom, right in front of me - had died.

When I asked my dad if he had shot himself in the head, he deadpanned, "Not yet."

So now I have to go to the social worker, except it's a weekend so there is no social worker. So I have to wait until Monday to find out who is right. At first I think this is a bother but then I realize that if I had a social worker on them full time, I'd always be able to verify their conversations.

Monday rolled around. Who do you think was right?

Wendi's Binge of the Week:
Please, for the love of Pete, catch up on the BBC's Sherlock before the new episode airs in January. I love a guy with a dry sense of humor, and the bromance between Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock and Martin Freeman's Watson has plenty of dry wit. It's a good thing I'm not on that show because I'd be pregnant by midday and wondering who the daddy was. But like I was saying, the writing is great - Mark Gatiss, who plays Sherlock's brother, is also the writer - and it does Doyle's stories proud. Netflix, iTunes, Amazon, and bbc.com all have episodes. Season 2 is not to be missed. Moriarty rocks. I mean, blows it out of the water.