The Mormon Housewife
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“Actually, the first marriage contracts and ceremonies were 4,000 years ago in Mesopotamia,” said Teresa with the absolute certainty of knowledge that comes from being a 14-year-old girl. “They were political alliances.”
“Teresa, stop it,” Rose Marie commanded her daughter. “We do not need a little devil’s advocate screwin’ with Roger’s juju right now.” She turned back to Roger—who was standing spread-eagle, inches away from her—and with a smoldering bundle of sage in her hand, she spread a cloud of smoke all around his body. “Don’t you worry,” she assured Roger, “We’re gonna purify you of all these negative feelings.” The mother spoke with all the certainty of knowledge of someone who has been a Mormon.
Placing an arrowhead in his right hand and a feather in his left, then anointing his head with river-water—a hodge-podge of many different religious traditions and some ceremonies that she created all by herself—Rose Marie bestowed upon Roger something she was never allowed to as a Mormon, a blessing to heal the sick. “Your mind will be free and clear, your actions will be true and strong, you will have all the passion and romance of a normal couple, and even though your marriage is homogenized rather than heterosexualized, it shall preserve all the sanctimony of marriage.”
Try the Mormon Housewife Cocktail, on page 2.
Wispy tendrils of smoke looped around Roger and quickly dissolved into a haze. He closed his eyes and concentrated; if this thing was going to work he had to convince himself that it would work. Locked deep within his mind was the power to make it work if he was fervent in his belief.
“Now tell me about your dream,” the self-appointed medicine woman commanded.
“Peter won’t feed me until 7:00 PM and I’m starving,” Roger began. “I’m not allowed to make my own food or snack, when we eat, we only have bacon.”
“This is significant, a paradox,” said Rose Marie. “The Old Testament tells us that bacon is an unclean meat, from an animal with a cloven hoof, yet it is also delicious.”
“The bacon was good,” confirmed Roger. “I pigged out on it… so to speak. Then I see these beautiful flowers, but as I look at them closer I see they’re infested with bugs.”
“Interesting. Wedding flowers?”
“I don’t know,” said Roger. “I don’t think so. They were just kind of outdoor flowers growing in the ground.”
“Wow.” Rose Marie inhaled quickly and deeply, and then held the breath for a moment. “From the earth.”
“But as I look at the flowers even closer, on closer inspection, I see those bugs are ladybugs and they’ve eaten whatever other bugs were infesting the flowers in the first place.”
With her eyes closed peacefully and prophetically, Rose Marie let a faint smile curl across her lips. “I think you’re gonna have a good marriage.”
Teresa’s face was completely expressionless. “Well. There you have it.” She probably knew better than to say anything else, but she went on, “You’re kinda changing your tune, Mom, don’tcha think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Advocating a ceremony that encourages the patriarchy to further control us.”
Rose Marie looked irritated. “This is different.”
“For thousands of years, the laws and customs of marriage have forced women to subordinate to men,” Teresa repeated her mother’s sentiments.
“This is gay,” said Rose Marie. “There’s no patriarchy in gay marriage and there’s no women… to speak of.”
“Marriage should be eliminated,” the girl parroted. “People are not property anymore. We’re all equal, and we don’t need ‘marriage.’”
“Would you please leave, Teresa?” asked her mother, firmly. “You’re not being helpful.” She smiled in a knowingly adult way at Roger. “You know what they say: nothing is worse than an educated child.”
“Who is ‘they’?” asked Teresa.
“The smart people who say things. Now stop asking questions,” commanded her mother.
Unwilling to let her mother win—after all, her mother got all her information about history from watching The Tudors, and even that became too complex for her—Teresa informed the room. “The ruling classes preserved their power by marrying off their daughters. They did this to get more land and money, and so they could produce legitimate heirs.” Teresa watched The History Channel.
“Whatever, Teresa. I’ll produce your legitimate heirs if you don’t go find something better to do.” Rose Marie placed her hand on Roger’s forearm. “All the world is just spirit. And you are spirit. So all the world is in your control. You believe that; don’t you?”
“I believe that if I believe something enough my mind can affect it,” Roger answered. “I believe in the placebo effect.
“If you think it, it will be,” the matriarch spoke her words as though they were a divine commandment. “There’s been book written about this, and it’s all over the internet, but I don’t think it’s been hyped nearly enough. Think it and it is. It’s true it was on Oprah.” Rose Marie swept a golden eagle feather over Roger’s eyelids and then over the center of Roger’s forehead to open his third eye. “Health of the mind, spiritual health is proven. This isn’t just me; this goes all the way back to Shakespeare. I think therefore I am.”
“I probably way too neurotic for spiritual health.” Roger grimaced. “I doubt therefore I am.”
Knowing very well that she was the only person in the room with anything valuable to say, Teresa interrupted. “You of all people are encouraging him toward marriage…”
“Yes,” Rose Marie said with authority. “I think the gays should get married. I’m not like Emma.”
“Emma is a completely different situation,” said Roger.
Rose Marie couldn’t help being a little bitter, even though she knew better than to do so in front of her daughter, “Perfect little Mormon housewife. God, what a joke. She gives Mormon’s a bad name.”
“Mormon’s give Mormon’s a bad name,” said Teresa. “She gives women a bad name.”
“Let’s face it Emma should never be anyone’s poster child,” said Roger, “But she’s your mother…”
“And I love her dearly…” said Teresa.
Rose Marie felt guilty about what she’d just said, but she felt good hearing her daughter criticize Emma.
“Really Mom,” said Teresa, “After what happened to you, I can’t believe you would recommend marriage to anyone.”
“What happened to your father is not my fault, Teresa. Now… Go do your homework.”
“I’m just saying,” Teresa said to her mother, “You did exactly what was expected by your culture and look where it got you.”
“I will not be accused, and you always blame me, Teresa. You can leave now.”
Teresa refused to move she just looked at Roger with a warning glare. “Let her be an example for you. Don’t marry for the wrong reasons.”
“I did not enter into a loveless marriage.” Rose Marie defended herself. “Darrell and I cared very much for each other. We loved each other. We truly did. In the beginning… And the sex was good.”
“Alright I’ll go,” said Teresa.
“What I miss the most about him,” Rose Marie became misty-eyed, “Was his weenie.”
“I’m leaving. I’m leaving.” Teresa stood up, but Rose Marie blocked her way.
“This is not a sexual thing.” The mother justified herself and was lost in memory all at once. “I miss it when it was soft, not when it was hard. It was really pretty. Watching it bounce around when he was naked… And holding it at night. I couldn’t fall asleep if it wasn’t in my hand.”
“Oh my God!” said the daughter.
“Life changes people. It changed your father. But the man I married… I loved him very much, and if he were still like that…”
“It’s not like he’s gone forever,” said Roger.
“Yeah, he kinda is,” argued Teresa.
“I’d do anything to have my Darrell back,” said Rose Marie.
“You’re a different person too,” said Roger. “You’ve left the church.”
“His weenie is gone forever…”
“It’s not gone.” Roger lost his comforting tone and was overcome with a wicked thought. “It’s just that, now, it’s in Emma.”
Teresa was horrified. “Jesus Christ!”
“We have to face the facts, Darling.” Her mother was painfully placid.
“Why would you have a conversation like this in front of a 14-year-old?” pleaded Teresa. “You’re degenerates.”
Rose Marie was unrepentant. “I’m just saying it like it is…”
“No,” Teresa objected. “Normal parents don’t talk that way. Not in front of their kids. It’s disturbed.”
“You’re just having post-traumatic stress.”
“But the divorce is not my trauma. You. You are the trauma.”
“I say these things to you in a frank manner so that you can become comfortable with them and not grow up with issues.”
“You’re chatting with me about my father’s penis. Why would have issues?”
“One day, you’ll thank me…”
“Thank you,” said Teresa with finality. “Now shut-up.”
“I’m better than Emma,” said Rose Marie. “She’s all like, ‘Look, I’m a woman: repress me. Because that’s what Mormon women are made for.’” She didn’t want to appear boastful, but there are moments as a parent when you know that you’ve got it right. “Aren’t you glad you have one mother who isn’t craaazzzy?””
Changing the subject, Teresa spoke to Roger and let her mother’s question slide. “I think you should have male-bonding ceremony.”
Alas, thought Rose Marie, Children will never learn. “Oh for God’s sake,” she said, “Stop talking bullshit and hand me my incantation beads.”
“They were common up until the 13th Century,” Teresa went on. “Some historians think male-bonding ceremonies were a way of sealing business alliances, but they had marriage prayers over an altar, and they even had a ceremonial kiss.”
“This isn’t the 13th Century,” Rose Marie informed everyone. “He doesn’t need a fake-o man-marriage; he can have the real thing.”
“A male-bonding ceremony…” Roger contemplated.
“I think it’s a much better idea,” Teresa said matter-of-factly. “You’re not living under anyone else’s bourgeois definition. You’re free to create the rules of the union for yourself.”
Roger thought about this for a moment. “It is a romantic idea.”
Teresa smiled at him. “If you had all the rights and privileges of a ‘marriage’…? They were also known as spiritual brotherhoods.”
“Spiritual Brotherhood.” For the first time that evening Roger looked happy. “I like that. A beautiful, loving bond between men… all legal rights and privileges, no bullshit… they could just be soul mates. That’s nice. That’s what two men in love should have.”
“So do it,” said Teresa. “Screw the marriage and have a spiritual brotherhood.”
“No. That’s what two men in love should have,” said Roger. “Peter and I need to have a marriage.”
Try the Mormon Housewife Cocktail, on page 2.
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