Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Life Makeover Principle #3:
To start living the life you want, START living the life you want!
‘What time did you get home last night?’ Gina asked her husband as he shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his puffy eyes. He’d attended a work function, leaving Gina to enjoy a night on her own. She’d done some yoga by candlelight in the living room, then spread out on the sofa to read a novel while classical music played in the background. Things she couldn’t do when he was around.
‘Can’t remember, might have been about two.’
‘I’ve made scrambled eggs. Do you want toast with them?’ She placed the plate of eggs into the microwave to reheat.
‘Two slices.’ Marvin plonked onto a chair at the kitchen table. ‘Oh, I almost forgot, what did the doctor say? ’
‘My prolactin levels are normal now. She said it was probably a one-off, so there’s nothing to be concerned about.’ Gina stirred milk into Marvin’s coffee and handed it to him.
‘That’s good to hear.’ Marvin sipped from his mug.
Gina ducked into the bedroom to get her gym bag, and stopped in the living room on her way back to the kitchen. Her laptop sat open on the small desk in the corner, and remembering she needed to check if Naomi had replied to her message, she jiggled the mouse to bring the screen to life.
‘Glad you can make it, see you there,’ was Naomi’s reply, complete with a little smiley-face emoji. Naomi had sent a message earlier on Facebook asking Gina if she wanted to meet for lunch today. Before closing the laptop down, she noticed a status update from Cara:
Cara Collins needs a holiday to recover from her holiday.
Poor Cara. She always appeared tired and frazzled. Raising young children was bound to take its toll on any woman. Gina’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard, then she withdrew them. Although she’d accepted friend requests from the women in the club, she didn’t know them that well yet, and preferred to just watch and observe for a while. In fact, she hardly ever responded to anyone’s Facebook updates, nor did she write her own. Why do I even have an account? She closed down the computer and walked into the kitchen, her gym bag slung over her shoulder.
Her handbag lay open on the table and Marvin held a copy of ‘Three Times a Lady’ in his hand. ‘Why are you reading this crap?’
Gina shifted from one foot to the other and lowered her gaze to the floor. ‘It’s not crap, it’s just ... someone at work lent it to me.’ She’d actually bought it after reading the two freebies from the Harlequin guy. ‘Anyway, why were you prying in my bag?’
‘I wasn’t, it was open and I spotted the book,’ Marvin defended. ‘Seriously, these books are rubbish, why would you want to read something like this?’
‘Look, I better get to work, I don’t want to be late.’ Gina grabbed her bags and the book, and turned away. She’d always hated conflict and confrontation. For some reason it always brought back memories of her strict catholic girls’ school, when a cocky teacher had put her on the spot one day to answer a question in front of the class, and she couldn’t remember the answer with the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. It was a simple question, but she’d frozen, and everyone had laughed, including the teacher. She’d wanted to complain to the school principal but didn’t have the guts. And now, the extent of her assertiveness was limited to the occasional beep of her horn when someone cut in front of her on the road, or stole the parking space she was about to drive into, and even then, she’d keep the windows up and sink behind the steering wheel to avoid any retaliation. Once, she even complained to an online shop when they sent her a size ten dress instead of the eight she’d clearly selected, telling them it was ‘unsatisfactory’, but that had been via email. Face to face confrontations sparked a fear in her. They rattled her nerves and made her feel vulnerable, took away her sense of control. So where she found the courage to turn back to face Marvin she didn’t know. Maybe it was her irritation at his sheer ignorance about romance novels, or the annoying way he sat there slumped in his chair, belly protruding, holding the coffee she’d prepared for him without a ‘thank you’ in return.
‘Have you even read a book like that before, Marvin? ’
‘What? Of course not!’
‘Then how do you know it’s crap?’
‘Look at it!’ he mocked, pointing to the lovers embracing on the cover.
‘It happens to be really good!’ Heat crawled up the back of her neck. ‘And ... maybe if I had more romance in my life, I wouldn’t need to get it from a book!’ Gina stormed out of the kitchen before popping her head back around the corner. ‘Oh, and by the way, your toast popped up. You do know how to butter your own toast don’t you?’ With unfamiliar yet empowering confidence she marched out, slamming the door behind her.
Gina Longwood just told her husband where to shove it, would have been an appropriate Facebook status update if she’d had the guts to write it.
After what seemed like the longest and most annoying morning ever, Gina gratefully accepted her sushi from Mr ‘Life’s Too Short he’d outdone himself this time. His usual apologies consisted of offering to unload the dishwasher, or ordering pizza so she could have a night off from cooking. But his peace-keeping attempts created their own problems: he would no doubt put things away in the wrong spot, and pizza was too high in calories.
‘I ... I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything, just have a seat and enjoy a home cooked meal.’ Marvin pulled out her chair. It was as though he’d had a total personality transplant. Maybe her outburst this morning was exactly what their relationship needed; a little kick in the pants to shake things up.
He ladled steaming chicken casserole into her bowl, bite size chunks of carrot and broccoli colouring the meal. Her belly grumbled at the tantalising smell, and she lifted her fork and started eating. Marvin joined in.
‘This is delicious,’ she said.
‘It sure is.’ Marvin ate at double her pace.
I can’t believe he cooked this! She tried to remember the last time he cooked anything. Apart from a barbeque they had last New Year’s Eve, and the occasional packaged meal, he’d never cooked a proper meal before. Maybe he’s been secretly watching Masterchef while I’m at the gym .
‘I know things have been stressful lately, honey, and today made me realise what an idiot I can be sometimes. I hope you’ll forgive me.’ He looked at her, his bottom lip jutting out.
‘I do. I’m sorry for biting your head off earlier. But by criticising the book it felt like you were criticising me.’
‘Let’s forget about it, shall we? You go ahead and read what you enjoy, and I won’t say a word.’ He shovelled another mouthful of food into his mouth. ‘Geez, Mum sure is a good cook.’
‘What?’ Gina looked up.
‘I dropped by Mum’s house after work today, and she was cooking this casserole. Before I could say ‘Hi’ she scooped up half of it into a container for us.’
Gina sunk into her chair.
‘Wait ... you didn’t think? Oh, honey, you know I can’t cook!’ An apologetic smile spread across his face.
Can’t, or won’t?
‘I should have realised it was your mother’s.’ She diverted her gaze from his.
‘Anyway, what does it matter? Why turn down a free home cooked meal? It saved you having to cook tonight.’
He had a point. ‘Well, it is really good.’ Gina was too tired to nit-pick, and Marvin had made an effort with the candles and flowers. ‘Thank your mum for me.’
He nodded. ‘Plus, we’re having dessert too: Chocolate Bavarian.’ He ran his tongue across his lips.
‘Courtesy of your Mum?’ Gina asked .
‘No, Sara Lee .’ Marvin got up to fetch the dessert from its cardboard packet.
Of course. Gina chuckled.
‘Speaking of mothers, yours rang the landline earlier,’ Marvin called out from the kitchen. ‘Nothing important, just call back when you can. She didn’t want to interrupt you on your phone at work.’
‘Okay.’ Gina decided to call back tomorrow. Talking to her mother required mental preparation and a double dose of multivitamins.
After the table had been cleared, Gina folded her side of the bed covers over into a neat triangle and slipped into bed while Marvin had a shower. She was going to read, but his words kept popping into her head; ‘What are you reading this crap for?’... ‘These books are rubbish.’... ‘Look at it!’ He did apologise, and she truly appreciated the candlelit dinner, but he did mean what he said this morning, without any regard for her feelings. She didn’t have much in common with Marvin, but they shared a life together and had promised to love each other ‘till death do us part’. ‘ Loyalty and commitment keep the foundation of marriage strong,’ her mother had said.
Maybe she was too fussy? Maybe she needed to forget about unrealistic romance, and be grateful she had someone in her life. But why did she feel so alone?
Gina’s awareness slid back to the present moment by the wobble of the mattress as Marvin flung his side of the bed covers back and got into bed, and instead of lying on his back to fall asleep, he turned towards her. Cologne wafted over to her, and he placed his hand on the side of her stomach.
‘It’s been a while, honey. Now that you’ve been given the all clear, how’s about we try to make a Baby Longwood? ’
‘I really appreciate the dinner tonight, but ... I’m really tired. I also have a headache from the ink I spilled at work today, the odour was terrible.’ Gina lifted his hand and placed it by his side. ‘And, it’s not the right time. I mean, I’m not ovulating yet.’
‘Oh. I didn’t realise. When will you be ovulating?’
‘Not sure. I’ll check my fertility app tomorrow and see where I’m up to.’
‘Okay. But when you are , we’ll try, right?’
As much as she loved children, Gina wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be a mother. She was aware the chances of conceiving were getting slimmer with each passing year, and the risks greater, but she didn’t want any pressure to push her into something she wasn’t completely ready for. Marvin’s only ambitions in life were to keep his V.I.P. parking spot at the company he worked for, have the largest television set out of all of his friends, and have a brood of kids to carry on the family name. Gina’s ambitions were different, she just hadn’t figured out exactly what they were yet.
‘Of course,’ she said, giving her husband an obligatory goodnight kiss on his cheek, before rolling onto her side. Moments later, the familiar sound of Marvin’s snoring echoed through the room.