Reva and Becca spent two days picking through dozens of old boxes, sorting through decades of objects that had passed from one family home to the next. Reva noticed a framed photograph of Nina and Philip. Under the black and white image, the caption read: "Fifty Years of Marriage."
In the image, neither Nana Nina nor Papa Philip were smiling. Reva was perplexed. She knew her grandparents weren’t the most expressive people, but their stoic expressions hovering over the caption “Fifty Years of Marriage” made marriage seem like something to avoid. Reva was proud of them for surviving that long together. Half a century. As she carried the photograph out of the bedroom, she considered Nina on her wedding day, both thrilled by and terrified of the commitment. Reva wondered what year? It must have been the early-1930s. Blame it on the Great Depression.
Reva found Jules in the kitchen, scavenging for lunch. He’d taken a jar of pickles and a squeeze-bottle of mayonnaise out of the fridge. His head was now buried in the cupboard.
“Whatcha looking for, Dad?” Reva asked.
“Can of tuna,” Jules replied. “Think there’s one or two back here somewhere.”
"Look what I found," she said as she handed Jules the framed photograph. He wiped the dust from the glass with his shirt and sat down at the kitchen table. Reva sat next to him after grabbing two cans of sparkling water from the fridge.
"Mom and Dad." Jules sighed.
"Did you give them this photo for their 50th?" Reva asked.
"I think Uncle Sammy found that picture in one of their albums. He made copies of it for the party," Jules replied.
"Why did he choose such a stoic shot?" Reva asked.
"It’s true. All business, those two. There weren't a lot of belly laughs in that home," Jules replied. "They were married in the middle of the Great Depression, you know." Jules knew little about the beginning of their marriage, having gathered only a few context clues from the early days. "Nina was always worried. Philip was always worried about Nina. And they were probably too hungry to smile," Jules quipped.
Reva laughed and then gave her dad a pat on his arm.
"Well, good for them. Made it 50 years," she said.
"Fifty blissfully tense years," Jules responded.
"Fifty years of cold sweats and constipation!" Reva continued.
"Fifty years of passive aggression and isolation!" Jules added.
"Fifty years of ulcers and permanent resignation." Reva and Jules were having fun now.
"They did love each other," Jules concluded. "The only way they could. Love mixed up with fear, control, insecurity, depression and moments of panic. But more than love, they relied on each other. Always,” Jules found himself getting emotional.
Reva looked into her dad's twinkling eyes. Light-brownish. Almost dark green. "We've relied on each other, too. Haven't we?" She asked.
"Yes, always." he replied.
Lisa popped into Jules’ mind. Their wedding day. Long before Reva. Lisa’s vivacious smile and her mother’s overwhelming fears that something would go wrong that day. Nina and Philip arrived on time. Jules thought he remembered noticing his dad doing a crossword puzzle before the ceremony. Nina chain-smoked and talked with her sister. The ceremony was simple. The only thing about their marriage that had been, Jules thought.
“Where did you go, Dad? You really drifted there for a few minutes,” Reva said.
“Oh, I was thinking of my own wedding day. With your mother. As you know, we didn’t quite make 50 years,” Jules said.
“Oh, Dad. She couldn’t have stayed with anyone for longer than she stayed with you. I’m glad you two lasted as long as you did,” Reva reassured her dad.
“I know, honey. Still sad, though. It was a pleasant day. Simple enough. Before life took its toll on her,” Jules said.
Reva got up from the table and poured half-glasses of Moscato for both of them. “Here’s to Nina and Philip and 50 years!” she held out her glass toward Jules.
Jules picked up his glass and they clinked. Then they each took a sip of the wine and sighed.