Chapter 4 #4
“It had lost most of its needles by Christmas Eve.”
Pete nodded. “You can’t expect them to want to do the same things they did as kids. And look at it this way—it’s great that they have friends they want to hang out with.”
“I know, but this is Christmas. At Christmas plenty of families have traditions that they repeat year after year. That’s why they’re called traditions. I don’t see why that has to change. Doesn’t it make you at all sad to think we’re not going to do it?”
“I haven’t really thought about it. But you obviously have.
” He was sympathetic. “I know how much you’ve always loved Christmas.
I tell you what. Why don’t we go and get that tree together and then we’ll go out to lunch at that new place in town?
We can make a day of it. Make it special. It will be an Anna and Pete day.”
She felt a rush of nostalgia.
After the twins were born, they’d occasionally taken up the offer of babysitting from Pete’s mother and enjoyed what they’d both affectionately called “Anna and Pete days.” Time when they could be together and focus on themselves, and not the twins.
Those days had been precious. They’d gone to the movies in the afternoon and crunched their way through a bucket of popcorn.
They’d checked in to a hotel and had sex.
Once, they’d checked in to a hotel and simply slept.
But most of the time they’d talked and focused on each other.
It seemed like a long time ago.
“It’s not the same. It’s just me, isn’t it? I’m the only one who cares. It wouldn’t bother you if we picked up a Christmas tree from the side of the road. You’re doing it to humor me.”
“I like having a Christmas tree. It’s not important to me how we get that tree, but it’s important to you. And if it’s important to you then it’s important to me.” His tone was steady as he watched her. “But this isn’t really about the tree, is it?”
Her throat thickened. He knew her so well.
“It’s about everything changing. About them leaving home.
I’ve dreaded this moment for so long, but I’ve always managed to bury it and tell myself it isn’t happening yet.
But tonight I realized it’s already happening.
” She felt emotion build. “Maybe the kids haven’t actually left, but in some ways it feels as if they have. ”
“They’re growing up. Taking their own journeys.”
“I know. But we’ve always been on the journey with them until now, and letting them go feels—” She swallowed.
“It feels hard. It isn’t such a big deal for you, I know.
You go to work in the morning and you’re busy, and I bet you don’t really think about us.
You have something else to focus on, but the kids—our family—that’s my whole life. ”
“I know. You’ve created a wonderful home, and it’s mostly thanks to you that we have two happy and well-adjusted kids who are confident enough to get out there and live life the way they want to live it. Our role now is to support them as they do it.”
“I want to keep them close.”
“I know. But maybe this is the time for you to make some changes, too. It could be exciting. A fresh start.”
It didn’t feel exciting to Anna. It felt close to scary.
“I don’t want a fresh start. And even if I did, what would I do?
I’m not qualified to do anything, not like cool Erica who can charge a gazillion dollars just for giving her opinion on something.
” She felt a flash of insecurity. “When we worked for the same company I had a great career ahead of me.” And she still remembered the buzz that came from that.
“Until I made you pregnant.” Pete’s voice was soft and she flushed, feeling guilty.
“You didn’t exactly do it on your own. We were both there.” A little too hasty, a little too lost in the moment. A little too young and impulsive to think about sensible, adult things like birth control.
“Do you regret it?”
“Regret having the children?” She was astounded that he would even ask. “They’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that.”
“I do know that. But maybe if we’d had them later, you would have been more established in your career—if you’d kept working, even part-time, maybe it would have been easier to go back.”
“I didn’t want to work part-time. I wanted to be with the twins.
” She knew some women went back to work because they couldn’t afford to stay home, and she knew some women worked because they preferred it that way.
But she’d chosen to stay home because it had been what she’d wanted.
Her choice. In her mind she’d sacrificed nothing by being at home, and gained everything.
She didn’t find childcare boring or tedious; she found it fascinating.
Meg’s first steps, the day Daniel managed to read a page of a book—those were all moments she knew she’d treasure forever.
And she knew that she was lucky that she’d had that option.
Pete had helped it happen, and she didn’t underestimate the impact on him.
Yes, there were times when “going to work” had seemed like the easy option compared to sleepless nights with twin babies, but Pete carried the weight of the family finances by himself and that was a big deal.
Five years into their marriage he’d lost his job and she’d seen the strain on his features as he’d worked into the night, every night, searching for something new.
“Come here—” Pete reached out his hand to her and she went willingly, settling on his lap as she had as a teenager.
“I’m heavy.” Remembering Meg’s comment about Erica, she tried to stand up but he tugged her back down again.
“You’re not heavy.” He locked his arms around her. “I know you don’t regret having the kids. They’re pretty perfect kids, not that I’d tell them that of course, and why wouldn’t they be with my DNA—ouch!” He winced as she dug her elbow into his ribs.
“They’ve inherited all your bad traits.”
“I don’t have any bad traits.” He pulled her closer. “What can I do to make this easier?”
“I don’t know.” She paused, wondering how to explain. “Remember when you lost your job? For a while you felt as if you no longer had purpose, that you no longer knew what your role was. That’s how I feel. The children don’t need me the way they used to, so I’m basically losing my job.”
He stroked her hair away from her face, his fingers gentle. “You’re not losing your job, Anna. They’re always going to need you.”
“But in a different way. This job—being a mother—has filled my life and now it’s ending and I don’t know how to handle it.
It’s all I know. This is what I do. This is what I’m good at.
This is what I love. And pretty soon I won’t be needed anymore.
And what then? When you lost your job you applied for a new one because you had skills.
Unless someone wants me to raise their kids, my skills are no use to anyone. ”
“That’s not true.” He locked his arms around her. “They’re not the only thing in your life, Anna. You have other good things.”
He was reminding her that they had a lovely home, and friends and good family. She was hugely grateful for all of that, but it didn’t change the feeling of loss. “The kids are the most important thing.”
There was a pause, and then he let her go and nudged her to stand up. “Right. Well, I suppose you can either see this as the end of something, or you can see it as a beginning.”
She picked up her wineglass from the table. “That sounds like one of those really annoying things they post on social media. Time to stop talking, Pete.”
“I’m trying to help.” He stood up and headed to the coffee machine while she stared after him in frustration.
“Unless you can rewind time, there’s not much you can do to fix this.” She’d never understood how he could drink coffee this late in the evening and not be awake for half the night.
He pressed a button and made himself a strong espresso. “So what are you saying? You want to have another baby?”
Anna choked and put her glass down. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“Yes. Why so shocked? You love babies, and you’re telling me kids are the only important thing in your life. So I’m taking that to mean we should probably have another child.” He sipped his coffee, watching her from across the kitchen.
The conversation felt jarring. And she hadn’t said the kids were the only important thing in her life—had she said that?
No, surely not. Did fathers feel the same way about their children as mothers?
Was the bond somehow different? It was something she and her friends had discussed in their last book club meeting in a response to the book they’d been reading, although as neither Claudia nor Erica had children, it had been a short discussion.
And given that Erica’s father had stuck around for all of eight minutes after she was born, her opinion had been heavily biased.
“Another baby? Pete, that’s ridiculous.” She finished her wine.
“Why is it ridiculous?”
“We always agreed two was a good number, and it just happened that we had two at the same time.”
“So? We’re allowed to change our minds if that’s what you want.”
It hadn’t even occurred to her. She tried to imagine being pregnant again. Having another baby. The sleepless nights. The chaos. The fun and the love. “I’m going to be forty in a few months. And so are you.”
“Plenty of people have babies when they’re forty. And what we lack in youth, we make up for in experience. We were young when we had the twins. We’ve learned a lot.” He shrugged. “Who knows? We might make half-decent parents next time around. We can consider the twins our practice run.”
She knew she was supposed to laugh, but she couldn’t find laughter anywhere inside her.
Even if it was possible, would she want that? “The kids would freak out. It would be evidence that we still have sex.”
He gave a faint smile. “It will be good for their education.”
She could imagine Meg. Ugh, Mom, no way! Do not pick me up from school for the next nine months.
“It’s not just the kids. I can’t keep having babies to solve the problem. There will always be a ‘last baby.’”
“I know, but by then you’ll be too old to care.” Pete drank the espresso and then put the cup down carefully. “Do you want to know what I think?”
“I’m not sure. Do I? Your last suggestion bordered on wild.
” Feeling shaken and unsettled, she walked across the kitchen and topped up Lola’s water bowl.
She had a feeling Pete didn’t really understand, and perhaps wasn’t trying hard to understand, and that made her feel lonely.
A ripple of panic spread through her. She never felt lonely in her marriage.
When had Pete not understood? They talked about everything.
“I think we should get the tree together this weekend,” he said, “and then you should go away with your friends and enjoy yourself. You always love your week together. You come back buzzing. You really missed it this summer.”
“I know, but summer is different.”
“It doesn’t have to be. What’s cozier than curling up in a snowy inn talking about books?”
“Do you mind me going?”
“Mind? Of course not. You’re lucky, Anna.
Books have been your hobby forever, and your book club has been a big thing for you since college.
Go and have fun. Drink hot chocolate. Argue about plots and characters and inexplicable decisions.
Forget about the kids. Christmas will still be here when you’re back. It’s not going anywhere.”
He was right, of course. Books were her hobby.
Reading kept her going. Some people exercised, and Anna did try to exercise when she could summon the motivation, and some people meditated, but all Anna had to do to relax was pick up a book and she was immediately transported to another world.
And it would be fun to spend time with her friends.
Also, she was worried about Claudia and wanted to give her some support.
With that thought uppermost in her mind, she picked up the phone to Erica before she could change her mind.
Her friend answered immediately.
“I’m coming,” Anna said. “Book it now.”
“Did the kids try and stop you?”
She felt a pang. “They didn’t try and stop me.”
“Good. You deserve some time to yourself, Anna. Pack your winter clothing and your snowshoes. You’re going to have the time of your life and I promise I’m going to give you more Christmas atmosphere than you can handle.”
“That isn’t possible. I can handle a lot. You’ve reserved the rooms?”
“Not yet. I’ve been swamped with work. Why do companies cut corners and never think about the consequences?
Anyway, now you’ve confirmed I’m going to call them first thing tomorrow because you know how fussy I am about details.
Claudia emailed me to say she’s in, so I’m booking three rooms at the Maple Sugar Inn.
Hot chocolate. Cookies. It will be like those late nights back in college when we all curled up and tasted whatever Claudia had baked.
Did you read the stuff I sent through about the place? ”
“Yes. It looks idyllic.” Anna wondered what it would be like to wake up every day to that view. She felt a flash of envy. “And although it’s horrible that she lost her husband, at least Hattie Coleman is able to carry on their dream. I’m sure that brings her comfort.”