Chapter 10 Jenny #2
He sighed. “Easy to say, not so easy to do. Although you seem to handle it all easily. Apart from surprise weddings, obviously.”
Was that really what he thought?
She stared at the photographs on her bedside table. “When I dropped Jamie at medical school I cried all day for a week.”
“What?” He frowned. “You were happy for him. You just said that a moment ago.”
“Yes, I was happy at the time, but when we got home, I cried and cried.”
He turned to look at her. “I don’t remember that.”
“You weren’t here. You were working. I dropped the girls at school and then came home and cried.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were busy at work and you didn’t need to come home to me complaining. And anyway, I felt a bit silly to be honest. What was there to complain about? Our son was doing something he loved. That was a cause for celebration.”
“But you were struggling.”
“Yes. There are so many parenting milestones. Like the day your child starts school, and leaving them there looking so tiny and vulnerable and lost with a hoard of other children feels so wrong and unnatural and you go home to an empty house for the first time and you keep watching the clock, counting the hours until you can pick them up.” She thought back to that day she’d taken Jamie, remembering how tightly he’d held her hand in the moments before she’d taken him into the building.
“And if you’re lucky they love it and want to go back the next day, but if they’re miserable and unsettled then you feel like the worst mother in the world and taking them back the next day breaks your heart. But at least they come home.”
“But when you drop them at college, it’s different,” Martin said.
“Yes. You drive home with that empty car, feeling as if part of your life has been torn away. And you know it’s never coming back. ‘Empty nest’ is a mild term for what’s essentially a bereavement of sorts. You try and see it as a new beginning but that doesn’t change the fact it’s an ending.”
There was a long silence and then he cleared his throat. “So how did you deal with it? I mean apart from crying.”
“That only lasted a week.” She thought back to that time.
“And I did what I usually do when struggling with change. I forced myself to focus on all the good things. I reminded myself how lucky we were to have a healthy son who had made it adulthood and was excited about his choice of career. I thought about all the patients I looked after when I was a nurse who didn’t have that option.
People whose lives had taken an unpredictable, often brutal course.
I reminded myself that children leaving home and becoming independent is the natural order of things. ”
“That’s true.”
She put her hand on his leg. “And I reminded myself that what I was feeling was normal, and that humans are remarkably adept at handling change. I just had to keep going and reshape my life a little. I had more time with the girls. More time to explore my own interests. And then I went through it all again when the twins left home, but by then I’d learned what I needed to do.
Did I feel the loss sometimes? Yes. I still do.
I felt it when I went to the forest to get the tree, but I focus on how lucky I am to have all those happy memories stored away.
I miss those days because those days were good, and I’m grateful for that time. ”
“I don’t remember it hitting me that hard.” He slipped off his shoes. “I felt a bit strange when I walked into Jamie’s room after he’d left for medical school, but I didn’t dwell on it.”
“You didn’t have time to dwell on it. You were so tied up in work—and of course your life didn’t change that much. I was usually the one who took them to school, who helped them navigate friendship challenges, and exam stress.”
He was silent for a moment. “So you’re saying this is the first time I’ve been in a position where I have time to think about change.”
“Yes. And don’t underestimate the impact of that.
You’ve been a doctor for your entire adult life.
Retiring is a big thing. You’re bound to have conflicted feelings, and this time you can’t block it out with work.
As you just said to me, it takes time to adjust. You have to give it that time. Be patient.”
“I’m discovering that giving advice is easier than taking it.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “It’s tough on you and I feel frustrated with myself. I should be able to do better than this.”
She laughed, because it was such a Martin comment. “This isn’t an exam. You don’t pass or fail. It’s an ongoing thing. There are going to be moments when you feel fine, and then moments when you don’t, and hopefully those moments become fewer as time passes.”
“It’s not fair on you. I feel bad.”
“Don’t. We’re a team, we always have been.” And she felt better than she had because now she had a much clearer understanding of the problem.
“Dad will be here tomorrow. You should talk to him.”
“Nothing to talk about. I’m not depressed, Jen. You’re right, it’s just a big adjustment and I wasn’t expecting it because I was looking forward to retirement. Talking to your dad isn’t going to change anything.”
“I wasn’t suggesting a consultation. And I wasn’t suggesting that you need his help.
” Although she suspected that maybe he did.
But what he also needed was something else to focus on.
“I was thinking that what you’re dealing with might make a perfect chapter for his book.
It’s something we all struggle with, isn’t it?
Change? As you say, you saw it all the time when you were working.
People navigating changes to their family circumstances, which impacts on health.
Changes in health generally. Your body lets you down sometimes, and learning to live with that reality is an adjustment.
Life is one big adjustment. And you might not need Dad’s help, but he definitely needs yours.
Mum thinks that if you don’t help it will never get off the ground. ”
He stood up and put his shoes away. “I’m not sure there’s an audience for this book if I’m honest, but I don’t want to kill your dad’s enthusiasm.” He unbuttoned his shirt. “There is so much health advice on the internet.”
“But that’s the point! There’s too much, and if you don’t have knowledge, where do you start?
You know what it’s like when someone searches their symptoms on the internet.
It’s a nightmare. You imagine the worst. The book my father wants to write is the type of advice you might get from your family doctor, but also focusing on prevention. ”
“I don’t know, Jen—”
“It would give him a boost to make some progress with it, but he can’t do that without your help.
You’ve only recently retired. You’d be able to guide him.
Help him.” And he’d be helping you, too , she thought, but she didn’t say that part aloud.
“Will you at least think about it? Ask him about it tomorrow? Will you do it for me?”
Let him think that. Let him think he was doing it for her. For her father. For anyone other than himself.
“All right.” He tugged off his shirt and leaned down to kiss her. “I’m going to take a shower. It’s been a long day.”
She’d never known a day to pass so quickly, but she guessed that in the world he was living in right now time passed slowly. She was going to do what she could to help with that.
But first she had to get her head around Jamie’s news.
Hayley was his wife now. A member of the family. A new phase.
Martin’s reminder that they’d adjust to this and that it would soon feel normal had been helpful.
“I feel better than I did, but I still wish they’d told us.”
He dropped his shirt into the laundry basket. “Would it help if I reminded you that there were things we did and told our parents about afterwards?”
“Like what?”
“Buying this house for a start. You were worried your parents would tell you that it was old and expensive and too far away from the village and schools and that you’d spend your life in the car, so we put in our offer and told them afterwards.”
She felt a flash of guilt. “That’s true, but it’s not quite the same thing.”
“The principle is the same. We wanted to do what we wanted to do, and we didn’t want to be influenced by them.”
“That’s true. And I remember being terrified when I called to tell them because I thought they’d list all the reasons we’d regret it.
Which is, of course, why we didn’t tell them until it was too late.
” She sighed. “Okay, fine, you’ve made your point.
I’ll try and remember how it felt to be young and independent. ”
She stood up, overwhelmed by everything. Christmas wasn’t supposed to feel this way. It was supposed to be lighthearted and fun and filled with silly moments. It wasn’t supposed to be this serious. It wasn’t supposed to be filled with anxiety.
“I need fresh air. I’ll take Percy out while you’re in the shower.”
“Now? Jen, it’s after midnight and it has been snowing all day.”
“The dog still needs to go outside. I’ll be fine. I’ll wear boots and plenty of layers. I’ve lived here all my life. You don’t have to tell me how to dress for the weather.” She tugged open a drawer and pulled out her thermal underwear and fleece-lined trekking pants.
“Do you want me to come?”
“No. Go to bed. You look tired.” Normally she would have relished his company, but not right now. She wanted to be on her own. She needed to give her emotions a rest and try to replenish some of her energy for the next day.
She tiptoed downstairs and grabbed her thick jacket. Percy trotted to the door in anticipation, tail wagging.
At least someone was behaving normally, she thought.
She opened the front door and shivered as a blast of freezing air entered the hallway.
Percy bounded ahead, sniffing the ground, his paws leaving prints in the snow.
Jenny followed him, feeling better for being outdoors. It had stopped snowing and the crisp clean air cleared her head. The solitude and the sense of space was calming.
She tilted her head back and breathed the icy winter air.
Usually this was one of the best places in the country for stargazing but tonight the sky was black, most of the stars obscured by clouds. Was there more snow coming?
She hoped the weather wouldn’t stop Becky and Will making it home tomorrow.
She was looking forward to seeing her—particularly now, when the emotional landscape around her felt so unstable.
Becky was her steady one. There was never any drama with her.
Especially no romantic drama, at least none that she talked about.
No doubt she’d shrug off the news that Jamie and Hayley were married, and if she felt that Rosie was upset about something it would take her a matter of seconds to tease it out of her sister.
And calm her down. Becky always calmed Rosie down.
They had each other’s backs and always had.
Knowing that Becky would soon be home lessened the worry about Rosie.
Jenny thought about her daughter sharing a car with Will. She smiled as she imagined Audrey, just a short distance away, spinning romantic scenarios.
If she’d learned one thing lately it was that your children’s romantic relationships rarely followed a predictable path.
It was fun to speculate, but over the years she’d forced herself to accept that Becky and Will didn’t have those sorts of feelings for each other. You could wish for it, and both she and Audrey had wished for it, but wishing for it didn’t make it real.
And it didn’t really matter. Friendship was important, too, and she liked knowing that Will and Becky were good friends. In the end that was probably more sustainable.
Right now all she cared about was that Becky’s life wasn’t complicated. She was already handling all the change she could cope with.