Chapter 7
Jane
A s I empty the dishwasher, familiar laughter floats through the open kitchen window. I can only hear bits and pieces of the conversation, but it sounds like Evan and the man next door are talking about travel plans. Well, his travel plans—we don’t have any.
I figure I should actually meet the neighbor, rather than just waving at him from a distance, so I slide on the flip-flops that I keep by the back door. I walk toward the low fence on the left side of our backyard and put my arm around Evan.
“Hey,” I say. The other man is shorter than Evan and has dark curly hair.
“Gordon, this is my wife, Jane,” Evan says.
I’m not used to being someone’s wife, and it feels strange. Not bad, just…strange. Instinctively, I twist the platinum band on my finger. I haven’t fully adjusted to wearing it.
We talk for a few minutes, until someone shouts “Daddy!” from inside the other house, and Gordon says he better get going. I admire Evan’s skill at socializing with people he only just met or hasn’t known for long. I feel like it takes me a while to get used to someone, but he’s already adapted to our new neighborhood.
The next morning, I come downstairs after my shower to find my freshly poured coffee on the kitchen table, as always. I appreciate the little routines we’ve developed.
But today, Evan does something I don’t expect.
“Let’s go outside,” he says.
I give him a puzzled look but follow him to the small back patio. To my surprise, there’s actually a place to sit: two black chairs have been pushed under a table.
“I thought we weren’t going to spend more money?” I blurt out, gripping my coffee mug. We’ve bought so much stuff for our house lately, and this looks like a good quality set. Sure, we have money in our joint account—all the gifts from our wedding—but still. “You should have asked…” I trail off, feeling guilty for my outburst. Evan got something nice for me. I just thought we were going to discuss all of our large purchases. That’s what we agreed on.
I know finances are one of the biggest sources of conflict in marriage. One of the reasons I agreed to marry him? I thought we were on the same page when it came to such things.
“If it wasn’t for the money,” he says, “would you be unhappy with it?”
I shake my head.
“I got it for free,” he tells me. “I joined a neighborhood group on Facebook. People post stuff they’re giving away, and all I had to do was pick it up.”
“Someone was giving away their patio furniture? It’s in really good condition.”
“Isn’t it? I’m lucky I saw it as soon as it was posted.”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Then I sit down on one of the chairs, and Evan sits down on the other.
“I should have told you that I was getting it,” he says.
“No, no,” I rush to assure him. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“I promise I won’t surprise you with things that cost more than two hundred dollars.” He reaches across the small table and clasps one of my hands. His earnestness causes something to clench in my chest.
I shift my chair so it’s next to his. It’s not like we have an incredible view—just our little backyard with its empty vegetable garden—but it’s still pleasant to sit outside on a summer morning. It’s supposed to get hot later, but right now, it’s not too bad. I sip my coffee and smile.
“In 2020,” he says, “it certainly would have been nicer to be here with you, making masks out of old T-shirts and struggling to find toilet paper.”
“I agree.”
The next day, I leave my home office after I finish work and find Evan in the kitchen.
“I got you another surprise,” he says.
“Oh?” I’m about to tell him to wait until I have a snack, but he looks rather excited.
For his job, Evan always wears dress pants and a dress shirt, even if he’s just in the basement. He has more meetings than I do, so it makes sense. He used to be a staff accountant, but now he’s a financial analyst at a logistics company, and I think the switch has been good for him.
After work, he changes: he’s currently wearing shorts and a T-shirt. He’s a little sweaty, and there’s a dark smudge on the bottom of his shirt. I wonder if that’s a clue about my surprise.
He pulls me toward the living room and points out the back door. There’s a large outdoor planter, which I assume he got secondhand. Unlike the patio furniture, it doesn’t look almost new. Inside the planter is a selection of herbs, and I head outside so I can look at it more closely. Basil, chives, and rosemary.
I remember telling him, the day after our wedding, that I want herbs and cherry tomatoes in our garden, and I know that’s why he did it.
I’m not used to seeing evidence that someone is thinking of me. After all, when it comes to my father, I’ve spent too much time just hoping that he hasn’t forgotten my existence. He finally sent me a text to congratulate me on my wedding…a full week after it happened. I’m an afterthought to him.
“Thank you.” To my embarrassment, there’s a tiny crack in my voice.
They’re just herbs. No need to get emotional .
But more than two seconds of thought went into this, and it really is a novelty.
“I’ll make you something with them tomorrow,” I say. “It’ll be hot, so maybe pasta salad with some basil and chives?”
“Sounds good.” Evan pauses. “This weekend, there’s a retirement dinner for my parents.”
“Oh, right,” I say. “I forgot about that.”
“If you don’t want to come, I can make an excuse—”
“No, I want to go. Where is it?”
Years ago, Evan told me that his father loves the Keg, and that’s where their small family retirement dinner is held. It’s the first time I’ve seen Evan’s family since the wedding, and that makes me nervous for some reason. I’ve put on a summer dress and actually done my makeup.
“How’s married life?” Kim asks. She’s sitting across from me, and Evan is to my left.
There are nine of us at a long table on the patio. It’s a little too big to have a single conversation; I can only hear bits and pieces of what Howie and Lynne are saying.
“It’s good.” I reach for a piece of bread and slather it with butter.
“You’re not discovering that Evan has all sorts of strange, annoying habits you never knew about before?”
He does have the weird tendency to not stay in the washroom when he brushes his teeth—at least, I find it weird to catch glimpses of him pacing his bedroom and occasionally the upstairs hall—but this is a minor issue.
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“You had to think about it for a moment.” She laughs. “I admit it was a bit of an adjustment when Max and I moved in together. Not that I wasn’t ready—he had a detailed list of things we had to figure out before living together, and we followed it—but still. I was so used to living alone.”
“Me, too. But I think it’s less adjustment, in some ways, because we have lots of space.” Max and Kim live in a two-bedroom apartment in a newish building, not far from downtown. Downtown Toronto, that is, not downtown Richmond Hill. “Owning a place is definitely an adjustment, though.”
The other day, the handle on the downstairs toilet broke off, and my first thought was that we should call the landlord. Then I remembered that there is no landlord.
No, it’s just us.
Really, it wasn’t so bad. I went to the store, got the part, and repaired it myself after watching a YouTube video. It gave me a sense of accomplishment, and I didn’t have to bug anyone to fix it.
Living with Evan is more of an adjustment than I let on, to be honest—but in a good way. He really has been very attentive. I fear if I talk about it, though, it’ll sound like we didn’t have a proper relationship beforehand, and he told me that he believes his family has gotten over their initial suspicions.
“What are you going to do with all your time now?” Yvonne asks Howie and Lynne, and Kim and I turn our attention to the other end of the table.
“Maybe one of you will give us grandchildren,” Howie says with a laugh.
Though I’m not opposed to the idea of children, my hand freezes in front of my mouth, tasty bread forgotten. Given that Evan and I are the ones who are married, I feel like this comment might be directed at us.
“Dad…” Evan says.
Lynne leans toward her husband and whispers something in his ear.
“Ah, why not?” Howie says. “I’m not pressuring them. Just saying. I have free time to help with babies now.”
“I’m not having children,” Leo grunts.
“Okay. You can learn how to play golf with me. I always wanted to try.”
Leo opens his mouth—presumably to reject that idea—but before he can speak, the server arrives with our steaks.
“Jane, can I talk to you?” Lynne asks after we exit the restaurant.
Before I can answer, she leads me a few steps away from everyone else, and my heart rate kicks up. I feel like I’m about to get in trouble.
“Howie and I think you should go on a honeymoon.”
I must look a little shocked, because she says, “Don’t worry, this has nothing to do with us wanting grandchildren.”
I hadn’t made that connection in my mind. I probably look even more shocked now.
“I know you’re being careful with your money,” she continues, “but you didn’t have a fancy wedding, either. You deserve a little trip this summer, yes? We will pay—”
“No,” I say. “You don’t need—”
“A little trip,” she emphasizes. “We’re not paying for you to go to Paris. Well, maybe Paris, Ontario. I’m not sure what’s there. We just thought you could have a nice weekend away. A few nights in a bed and breakfast? I have some picked out…” She takes out her phone.
I wonder if she’s had so much time to do this because she’s retired, even if it’s only been a week.
“You should ask Evan,” I say.
He ought to take the lead when it comes to his parents, right? Besides, I don’t have much experience with trying to refuse things from older relatives, and I want his parents to like me. I fear that if this conversation goes on much longer, I will have agreed to numerous things that I certainly don’t need.
“Aiyah!” Lynne says. “I already did. He said no.”
Oh my God. Does she think I’m the weakest link? Is she two seconds away from stuffing an envelope of cash into my hand? I’m fine with accepting fruit and leftovers—I truly appreciate the thought—but this is different. I don’t want to feel like I’m in debt to them.
To my relief, Evan appears at my side and puts his arm around me. “Mom! As I told you, you don’t need to pay for a honeymoon. Please tell me you didn’t make a nonrefundable reservation.”
She clucks her tongue. “I’m not that interfering. But you should go on a trip.”
“Why are you so set on this?”
Lynne huffs and mutters something in Cantonese, but I don’t speak the language.
Then Howie joins us. “You need to put effort into your marriage from the very beginning. Don’t forget about the romance.”
I’m moderately horrified. Why are they actually saying this out loud?
Now it feels like everyone has gathered around. Jon is laughing. Max is frowning at Evan, for reasons I don’t understand.
“Mom,” Evan says in a firm tone that I’ve never heard from him before, though he still has a smile on his face, “really, we’re fine. You and Dad should go somewhere with the money instead. You have lots of time and, as you’ve reminded us, no grandchildren.”
Lynne seems to accept this…for now.
We say our goodbyes and head to the car. On the drive home, I ask Evan if he’s worried that his parents have become suspicious about our relationship again.
“I don’t think so,” he says.
“What about Max?”
“No, he’s just a little miffed that I kept you a secret for so long. Not from our parents, but from him.”
“Oh. I don’t know anything about having siblings. I mean, I do have siblings, but they’re a lot younger than me. It’s not quite the same.” I pause. “I hope you don’t want to speed up the whole discussion-about-having-children thing because of what your parents said?”
“No. I’m not ready yet. We’ll talk about it next summer.”
As I get ready for bed, I’m overtaken by an urge that I haven’t had since before I was a married woman. In horror, I wonder if it’s because of the talk of us having children, but no. I think it’s just random.
Or is it related to the thought of going on a honeymoon with…someone?
I take my only vibrator out of its hiding spot, turn it on, and push aside my underwear. When I masturbate, I don’t think of sex, not exactly. Rather, it’s the feeling of being in bed with a man I want to have sex with. The feeling of being in love like that.
Something along those lines. I don’t even know how to describe it. Just whatever I can do to get myself off as fast as possible and rid myself of this inconvenient need.
Occasionally, I wish sex was something I wanted separately from love. Many years ago, I had a female friend who said that if guys could have casual sex without shame, then we should, too. When I told her it wasn’t something I wanted, even if it weren’t for the possible slut-shaming and danger of violence, she said I was a bad feminist and should free myself of my patriarchal mindset. I tried to convince her that this wasn’t the “problem,” such as it was, and she assumed I was a lesbian.
It was a while before I figured out that I’m on the ace spectrum, something I initially assumed I couldn’t be because I do have sexual urges.
Anyway, I’m fine with the way my body works now. I really am. But I think it’s human nature to occasionally wish that our lives could be a little different from what they actually are.
And that I did, for example, want to spend a whole weekend in a hotel room with my new husband.