5. Eden
Eden
I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but even I can deduce there is something going on with Sloane that she doesn’t want to share with me. The question is: what? And how do I get her to open up?
We’re usually pretty stellar at communicating. We learned early on that bottling things up only leads to disaster. Sloane promised me she’d never keep her worries to herself, but I think that’s exactly what she’s doing. I just don’t know what she’s worrying about.
Pia and the kids staying at our place is the most obvious cause. Maybe there’s too much stress, and Sloane isn’t dealing well. But why wouldn’t she tell me that? It’s not like I’m not vocal about how manic the place is right now. Two kids and Pia is a lot!
To test the theory, I start an experiment: Operation Subtle Probing.
I’ll admit I snigger to myself because you know…
probing. Yes, I am in my thirties, believe it or not.
Anyway, Sloane’s in the kitchen when I initiate, fussing over her planner and a half-eaten grapefruit, her “work face” so intense it might actually set the table on fire.
I lean against the counter, sipping the world’s most anaemic coffee, and casually ask, “You sleep okay last night?”
I know she was fidgety most of the night because she kept kicking me and mumbling, “Stop bouncing,” which was interesting.
She makes a noise, something between a grunt and a yawn, not looking up.
“Had a weird dream. There was a treadmill, but it was in a bouncy castle, and the floor kept moving.” She tears off a segment of grapefruit as if it personally offended her.
“I was running and getting nowhere. Woke up with the urge to throw my phone across the room.”
“Sounds like hell.” I try not to sound too eager. “Anything on your mind?”
She glances up, just for a second, eyes quick and bright. “Just…life stuff.” She shrugs, and that’s the end of her emotional monologue.
I know that look. It’s the same one she gave me the year I forgot Valentine’s Day but remembered to sign a new gallery contract. She’ll talk when she’s ready, but the timeline is measured in geological epochs.
I let it go for now. Instead, I use my powers for good and oversee the breakfast chaos.
Arin is up, hair like a toilet brush, demanding “circle toast” (bagel) with “no brown spots.” I presume that means raisins.
Meena hunches over a workbook, spelling the word “catastrophic” out loud and giving Sloane a pointed look.
That girl is far too intelligent for her own good and scarily too much like her mom.
Pia is already dressed, scrolling her phone with the tight, twitchy energy of someone who has just cut contact with her entire bloodline.
“Hey!” I call. “Anyone seen my sketchbook?”
Meena chirps, without even looking up, “It’s in the fort!”
I make a mental note to check there before the kids turn it into paper airplanes or something similarly projectile-like. Breakfast proceeds. Sloane leaves for work in a flurry of “good lucks” and “call me if you need anything,” and I’m left to triage the rest.
After the school drop-off and a brief, blessed silence, I grab another coffee, this time with more caffeine than milk, and set up in my studio.
For once, the house is empty. I can hear the slow groan of the water heater and the soft hum of the fridge.
There’s a peace in the quiet, and I chase it for a while, painting lines that don’t need to mean anything.
Sometime in the afternoon, Pia pokes her head in. “You busy?”
I shake my head. “Just making a mess.” That’s my favourite kind of art.
She walks in, eyes red-rimmed but determined. “Thanks for letting us stay. I know it’s a lot.”
“Are you kidding?” I snort. “We love having you here. Besides, Meena’s the only one in this house who can beat me at Mario Kart.”
True fact.
Pia laughs weakly. She picks up a brush and twirls it in her fingers. “How do you do it?” she asks. “Just…live in chaos and not freak out?”
I think about that. I wouldn’t say I live in chaos, but I know what she means. At times my life is just full of crazy shit going on, but isn’t that how it goes sometimes?
“I do freak out,” I admit. “I just make it look like I don’t by making more art and pretending the mess is part of my process.”
She grins, but there’s a sadness there. “I wish I had that.”
“You do,” I say. “You just haven’t found your brand yet.”
Pia nods, and for the first time since she arrived, she looks almost hopeful.
It hits me then, what must be eating at Sloane. When she’s in this mood, it’s not about what’s happening right now, but what might happen. The future. The lack of control. The idea that some disaster is waiting around the next corner, and she needs to prepare for it or else.
I decide I’ll force the issue tonight. If there’s one thing I am good at, it’s dragging secrets out into the open and giving them a place at the dinner table.
Sloane gets home earlier than I expect, arms full of groceries and a half-dozen takeout containers. Her hair is damp—she ran at lunch, I can tell—and her eyes look less wild, more focused. She kisses me on the cheek and whispers, “Thanks for this morning.”
“For what?”
“For not pushing,” she says.
I want to say, “I’m about to push now,” but instead I just squeeze her hip and tell her Meena wants a rematch on Mario Kart.
We have dinner—something called “fusion bowls” that are basically a riot of vegetables and sauces.
The kids eat in the fort, giggling and plotting their next prank, and Pia disappears to call her lawyer.
She’s determined to make the separation as swift as possible.
I make a note to reach out to Todd. He must be losing his mind, and we’ve been friends for a long time.
Pia will always be my girl, but I can’t just turn my back on him.
It’s just me and Sloane at the table, the kind of moment that would be romantic if I didn’t know we were both planning our next conversational ambush.
She goes first. “I want to talk about something,” Sloane says, eyes serious.
I nod, setting down my fork, readying myself for her to tell me she’s feeling anxious about the future. “Go for it.”
She takes a breath, and then another. “I want to have a baby,” she blurts, voice barely above a whisper.
I blink. It’s not what I expected.
“A baby?” I repeat, just to make sure I heard right.
“Yes. A baby.”
My ears buzz as I look at my wife to see if this is a prank. It’s a weird one, I’ll give her that.
“Eden?”
A baby. A mini-human. Me and Sloane, having a baby. What?
I shake my head. “I’m…Sloane, since when have you wanted a kid?” Okay, so my voice is a little higher than it should be and is obviously showcasing my rising panic.
Her face goes red, and her eyes drop to the table. “Forget about it,” she says, but that’s not going to happen.
Taking a few breaths, I calm my raging heart until I’m clear enough to have an actual conversation without making her feel like shit.
This is why she hasn’t said anything, because she knew how I’d react.
I’ve never said definitively I didn’t want children, but from all my experience around them, from newborn to evil teenager, the odds never looked good for me procreating.
Sloane’s knuckles are white where she grips her water glass, and I realise this wasn’t a whim.
She’s probably been thinking about this for months, maybe even years.
I force myself to look at her—really look at her.
She isn’t pleading or sulking, or playing for sympathy.
She’s just bracing for impact, and the worst part is, she thinks it’s already inevitable.
I reach across the table and put my hand over hers. “I’m not going to say no,” I tell her, careful to keep my voice soft. “I’m not going to say yes, either, not yet. But…I want to talk about it. I want to know what you’re thinking, why now, all of it. Okay?”
Sloane doesn’t say anything for a moment, just squeezes my fingers so tight I can feel her pulse beating in her palm.
“It’s not about now,” she says quietly. “It’s about…always. I think I’ve always wanted this, but it didn’t feel real until Meena and Arin. And then it was like, I don’t know—something I couldn’t put back in the box.”
I nod, waiting. She keeps going. “I love our life. I love you, and my job, and our friends, and being able to do what I want when I want. But then I think—what if I want more? What if this is the thing that makes everything better, not worse?”
I can see she’s scared, not of the idea but of taking something away from me, of breaking some unspoken rule. It’s weird, because I always thought we were content with just the two of us, but here we are. She wants a baby.
Do I hate the thought of it? If I am honest, brutally honest, the answer isn’t a hard no.
I never gave it serious thought, because the idea of being responsible for another human felt like a dare from the universe that I wasn’t ready to take.
I could just about manage myself, sometimes Sloane, and occasionally rescue my friends from their own disasters.
But a baby? A small, squishy, unpredictable thing that would need me for everything?
The thought is terrifying. But then I remember seeing Sloane hold Arin for the first time, her whole face transformed, or how she reads to Meena in that ridiculous British accent she picked up from my mum.
I think about how she’s always the first to volunteer for carpool or babysitting duty, even when she’s running on caffeine and existential dread. She would be a brilliant mum.
“Can I have some time?” I ask, hoping my tone isn’t coming across as dismissive.
She looks at me for the first time since the conversation started. “Of course you can. I think I just needed you to hear the words, babe.”
I pull her out of her seat and onto my lap.
My arms circle her waist, and I bury my head in her neck.
“Baby, you know I want you to tell me everything. Please never be afraid to say what’s on your mind.
We might disagree on it or need some time to process, but I swear I’ll always listen and work through shit with you.
That’s what we promised each other all those years ago, and what we wrote into our vows.
I intend to stick to that promise like glue, love. ”
Sloane squeezes me tight, and that’s all I need to know we’re okay.
Pia interrupts the moment, which I’m kind of grateful for. Emotions are high, and I need just a moment to digest the past few minutes.
“My lawyer is getting the ball rolling,” she announces. Gone are the sad eyes. Pia is all steel and determination now.
Sloane slips back into her chair and taps the empty one next to her, inviting Pia to sit. We both want to check that this is really what she wants to do.
“I know you’re going to ask if I’m sure, and I am.”
I can’t help but crack a smile because Pia is nothing but forthright. “We support you, P. You know that.”
She nods. “I’ve been unhappy for too long, guys. Todd was the right guy for me in high school, but we’re different people now. The kids come first, and I can’t be with someone who won’t put them first, even if that means fighting my family.”
“Have you heard from your parents?” Sloane asks delicately.
A flash of fire burns in Pia’s eyes. “They’ve closed the account they opened for the kids. Stopped the mortgage payments on the house.”
“Christ,” I blurt. “It’s only been a few days.”
Pia scoffs. “It doesn’t surprise me. Dad’s ruthless, and Mum’s a bitch,” she says matter-of-factly.
“It was and has never been about what would make me or the kids happy. It’s about them and their fucked up idea of what family is.
I’d rather be broke than be around their toxic crap a second longer. ”
“But you’re not broke, right?”
She laughs. “Of course not. I’ve been squirrelling money away since high school. My nannies didn’t raise a fool.”
“Have…have you spoken to Todd at all?” I ask. He’s a bit of a trigger for her at the minute, but we need to talk about it.
Pia sighs. “No, but I will. The kids miss him, and I’m not going to keep them from him. I just needed a bit of time.”
Sloane takes Pia’s hand and smiles gently. “You have a home here for as long as you need, P.”
“I know.” She smiles, her eyes filling with tears. “Can I ask you another huge favour?”
“Shoot,” I say, already knowing what she needs.
“Will one of you take Meena to see him for a couple of hours? She’s getting upset, and I don’t want to traumatise my kid, but I’m just not ready to see him yet. It will just end up being about me and him instead of her.”
“What about Arin?” I ask.
“If everything goes okay with Meena, I’ll set up a time for him to see Arin. Todd’s never been great handling the two of them together.”
I give Sloane a quick look. She gives a subtle shrug, which means, “If you’re up for it, go for it.” I’ve always gotten along with Todd, and Meena is my mini-bestie, so hopefully she’ll feel chill with me.
“Absolutely,” I say, and text Meena that I’ll meet her in the fort in five.
She sends back a thumbs-up emoji, followed by a GIF of a panda eating ramen.
She’s so much more fun now that I can communicate with her via text.
Ten-year-olds are hilarious. She had a mobile at eight but hadn’t got to the point where she understood the convenience of a text message.
As soon as she cottoned on that she could have conversations with her favourite aunt from anywhere in the world, the chaos started and hasn’t stopped.
I let Sloane and Pia hash out the remaining logistics while I head to the living room where Meena is, as predicted, curled up in the fort reading a book that is far too advanced for her grade. She’s going to be in college by the time she’s thirteen, I swear it.
She peers at me over the top of the pages, unblinking. I can see her brain trying to return to reality and away from…oh dragons, cool! I might borrow that book.
“You want to see your dad?” I ask, kneeling down to her level. She shrugs, then nods, her lips pressed tight.
“Can we go now?”
“Let’s ask your mum to message him,” I say, “but you gotta help me pick out something decent to wear before we go. I don’t want your dad thinking I’ve let myself go completely.”
She snorts, then follows me upstairs. I can’t help but think this kid thing might not be as bad as I’ve always thought.