“What’s wrong with your face?” Tom asked bluntly. He just called me on Skype and it’s not exactly something a woman wants to hear from her husband. I mean, how rude. I should have asked him what’s wrong with HIS face. Instead I sniffled and pressed a tissue up to my eyes.
“I finished watching Army Wives,” I explained.
“And?” Tom pressed, not comprehending why my face was bright red. Look, I’m an ugly crier. I can’t help it. My face squishes up and turns as red as a tomato and liquid pours from my eyes and nose.
“J-J-Jeremy d-i-i-e-d and his father gave him a final sa-a-a-a-l-l-l-u—”
“You shouldn’t watch sad episodes. They always upset you,” Tom cut in, unmoved. Totally and completely unmoved. Did he not hear me? Did he not hear that JEREMY HAD DIED and WASN’T COMING HOME?
“Jeremy died,” I said. I waited for some sort of emotion from Tom. Instead he put a handful of M&Ms in his mouth and chewed and chewed like a cow.
“Let me guess. You cried. A lot. I thought you were having an allergic reaction at first. Your face is so red,” Tom pointed out.
“Your ass is red,” I retorted. Then I realized that it made no sense. He wasn’t a baboon. (Though sometimes he behaves like one..) It’s just, Tom was mocking my face and wasn’t even showing any sympathy. All he was doing was eating his stupid M&Ms.
“Oh man, you told me,” Tom joked.
“Why aren’t you showing any emotion?” I demanded.
Tom rolled his eyes. “Because it’s a television show.”
“But the character symbolizes real soldiers who don’t get to come home!” I wailed. I was about to cry all over again. I didn’t want Jeremy to die. He was my eye candy on the show. It seems like my eye candy always dies. I mean, let’s take stock here: George was my eye candy on Grey’s Anatomy. He died. Charlie was my eye candy in Lost. He died. Thomas Culpepper was my eye candy on The Tudors. He died. Jeremy was my eye candy on Army Wives. AND HE DIED! It’s a conspiracy, I tell you. (And I looked it up, the actor who played Jeremy was born in 1984 so I’m not pulling a Mary Kay Louterneau or anything..)
“It’s just a show,” Tom repeated. “You get all worked up when someone dies. Like when you watch that movie Oceans—”
“Beaches,” I corrected.
“Whatever. You always cry at the end. Why not save yourself the tears and not watch sad stuff?” Tom wondered.
“Because I like the sad stuff!” I screeched.
“Your face tells a different story,” Tom answered.
Sometimes I want to throttle him. He just doesn’t get it.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to watch Steel Magnolias.