It's the Sunday before Christmas, 1970, 3:30 in the afternoon. Peggy and Stan are still lying in bed. They spent the morning relaxing and reading the Sunday Times, eating bagels and drinking coffee. Then somehow, between attempting to do the crossword puzzle, reading the Book Review, and making love, the morning morphed into afternoon.
Work has been so busy, wedding preparations have kept them so busy, and with Christmas coming, it seemed easy for Peggy to be overwhelmed. Stan told her today was a day just for them, there would be no plans, no places to go, no errands to run. They didn't even have to get out of bed if they didn't want to. Peggy really had to force herself to slow down sometimes, most of the time, in fact...but Stan was good at winding down (and never feeling guilty about it, the way she did) and helped her give herself permission to enjoy the downtime to just "recharge her battery".
They had put up a Christmas tree in the living room with new strings of colored lights and decorated it with things that each of them had, ornaments from their respective childhood days, some new glass ornaments, as well as strands of glittery silver tinsel. The scent of the pine tree wafted throughout the apartment, evoking memories of past holidays in both of them, and imprinting new memories of their life together now.
Peggy sold her building, finally. She was hoping to keep it and see if the neighborhood improved and then really cash in, but it was becoming a real headache, living in one apartment, working full time and trying to maintain the building too. Stan convinced her that it was just another thing sucking the life out of her. He was right, she felt the weight of 100 pounds of bricks being lifted off her when the final papers were signed.
Peggy hadn't been sleeping very well lately, she hadn't been feeling exactly 100% either. She was tired and sluggish, and sometimes, toward the afternoon she felt like she could barely stay awake. She just kept telling herself, hang in...in a month and a half you'll be on a beach in Acapulco with nothing to do but relax and get tanned. They were both looking forward to the wedding, but what they were really looking forward to was the honeymoon, and the time to just be together, without anyone or anything to distract them.
The wedding was turning out to be just as Don had said it would ... an event. Invitations were printed and mailed promptly, to friends and family, of course, but also to each of the McCann partners and some key clients as well. It was not the way Peggy would have planned, but she was not the host. There was no expense being spared by Don...the wedding would be both extravagant and elegant, and Peggy knew that Don would somehow find a way to let the world know (in a tasteful manner) that he was the host of this shin dig. It didn't bother Peggy, she still felt very grateful and honored, even though it was turning out to be one big dog and pony show. Peggy just wanted it to be a day to remember because she was so very happy, and marrying a man she had loved for years, but just didn't know it.
Stan had long told friends that he would only ever get married if he was truly in love and truly comfortable. It would have to "feel as familiar and comfortable as an old shoe". Well, as much as Peggy didn't exactly love the "old shoe" analogy, he got his wish. There was not a moment with Peggy where he did not feel he could be himself completely. And he knew Peggy felt the same way.
Now Peggy was lying on her side, snuggled against him, with her arm draped over his chest while he was lying there, reading. She was drifting in and out of sleep, trying to decide whether she was more hungry or more tired.
"When are we having dinner?" Peggy asked Stan.
"Whenever you want. Why? Are you hungry?" He asked.
"Yeah..." was Peggy's sleepy reply.
"Do you want to go out, or should I make something?" He asked her.
The thought of having to get all dressed, and then put on a coat, hat, gloves, scarf didn't sound appealing at all to her. She was really getting used to just hanging around, and savoring the peacefulness of her new home.
"Let's stay in. What do we have though...I didn't take anything out..." Peggy wondered.
"Watch and learn, my dear." Stan tells her. "Watch and learn. Throw on some clothes and meet me in the kitchen." Stan gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and heads to the kitchen. Peggy pulls a pair of her own jeans out of the closet and one of Stan's sweatshirts with BROOKLYN COLLEGE printed across the front. She decided this was now hers...he had gotten just a little too chunky for this one. She also pulls on a pair of socks. It was warm in the apartment, but she never understood how Stan could walk around barefoot all the time.
Stan plugged in the Christmas tree lights and turned on the stereo.
"Ok, you set the table, I'll get this going." Stan tells Peggy while pulling items out of the fridge. He has taken out eggs, bacon, garlic, grated Romano cheese, parsley. A box of Ronzoni spaghetti is also out on the counter. What is he making? He has set a big stockpot filled with water on the stove to boil, and tosses in some salt. Next, he is dicing around six slices of the thick bacon.
Stan puts a frying pan onto the stove and heats it up slightly befor putting in the diced bacon. Peggy is mesmerized watching him mince up the six cloves of garlic so quickly.
"Peggy, do me a favor, get me a small mixing bowl and a fork please?"
She likes assisting him. "Got it. Now what?"
"Ok, you wanna help?" he asks. "Crack three eggs into the bowl, and add, I don't know, a good half cup or 3/4 cup of the cheese and whisk it together with eggs with the fork. When it's all mixed together you can just put it aside." Peggy does what he tells her to do.
Stan continues. "Why don't you pour us some wine? Lemme see, is this water boiling...it's all in the timing, babe" he tells her.
The smell of the bacon cooking is making her even more hungry. She is almost giddy, watching him cook, enjoying their domestic bliss. She gives Stan his glass of Chianti and watches him stir up the bacon in the pan.
He puts a little more than half a box of spaghetti into the boiling water and gives it a stir. While the spaghetti is cooking, Stan stirs the minced garlic into the pan with the bacon. Wow, now that really smells unbelievable!
"Can you chop up some parsley, Peggy? Just run it under cool water and dry it with a paper towel first."
Stan gives the spaghetti a stir. "Oh this looks done. You don't want soggy pasta, Pegs. It has to be al dente."
Peggy smiles at him. "Oh sure. Whatever that means."
Stan smirks. "It means 'to the tooth'. So you can actually bite into it. So it's not a disgusting, mushy mess. Sorry, I forget, you come from the Katherine Olson Culinary Institute."
"You don't like my mother's cooking?" Peggy asks Stan.
"Let's just say she thinks she's a better cook than she really is."
Peggy laughs. For all the times Ma had told Peggy that she didn't know her way around a kitchen and all the veiled insults to Peggy's attempts, this was just desserts.
Stan dips a measuring cup into the pasta water and keeps about a cup of water aside before he drains the spaghetti into a colander. The steam billows in the kitchen. Then he puts the drained pasta back into the pot. Working quickly, he stir in the cheese and egg mixture, next, he tosses in the bacon and garlic. He is adding the reserved pasta water, a little at a time, until the pasta is creamy.
"My God, Stan" Peggy is nearly drooling. "That looks and smells amazing. Where did you learn to do this?"
"Well, mostly from Aunt Stella. My mom didn't like to cook as much as Aunt Stella does. And Stella's mother-in-law too. Get the parsley, please, Pegs. Is the pepper mill on the table? You want fresh pepper and parsley on this." he tells her. "Put the cheese on the table too, babe.
He puts the entire mixture into a beautiful pasta bowl Stella had given him after a vacation in Italy.
"Here you go, Mrs. Rizzo...Spaghetti Carbonara!"
"I'm not Mrs. Rizzo yet." says Peggy.
"Ahhh yes, but you will be, very, verrrry soon, my sweet." Stan says playfully and kisses her.
They both sit down to eat. Peggy is positively starving. The flavor of the pasta is soooo good, creamy, smoky from the bacon and cheesy. She's never had anything like this, not even in restaurants. And he pulled this together so quickly. This guy is a keeper.
"Stan what happened to your mom?" Peggy is curious. "Was she ill?"
Stan takes a deep breath. "You could say that."
"What do you mean? What did she have?" Peggy's asks him.
Another deep breath. "What did she have?" he repeats. "She had a bottle of sleeping pills, that's what she had."
Oh God. Now Peggy immediately understood the traces of resentment she would feel sometimes when he spoke of her.
"Look, Peggy. I get it now, I do. I know she was in a lot of pain, emotionally." Stan tells her. "But I really needed her, I was young. And she just checked out, like my father did."
Peggy is so overcome by the thought of him feeling so abandoned that she starts to cry. She gets up and puts her arms around him.
"Oh honey" Peggy strokes her hands through his hair. "I am so, so sorry. So sorry."
"It's ok, Peggy. Really." Stan is trying to reassure her. "I have worked through a lot of it. I went to speak to someone. Someone...a shrink. I know I shouldn't be ashamed, but people look at you funny if you tell them this."
"I don't. I think you are amazing. I really do. I don't know when I've ever loved you more, Stan" Peggy really is amazed by him.
"Terrific, cook her a meal, tell her you're crazy, and bam, you're in!" Stan is smiling at her. "Come on, eat."
Peggy sits back down across from him. "You have no idea how much I love you."