Marriage Vacation by Pauline Brooks

Author:Pauline Brooks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Chapter Seven

* * *

I made my bed and now I had to lie in it. I made a choice to stay and now I had to face the consequences. The most excruciating of these was that my girls seemed more distant after I missed Christmas. Maybe they were upset that I’d missed the holiday or maybe they just realized that business trips didn’t last this long. I clung to the hope that it was my imagination; that my guilt was coloring my perception, because dwelling on the alternative—that my kids would grow up to hate me—was too hideous to bear.

I could still see their days running parallel to mine. When I opened my eyes I saw Tilly sneak to her sister’s bed and nip her on the shoulder to tell her it was morning. Izzy would be awake but lying on her belly, sketching on a pad, or reading a chapter book. She told me she reads chapter books now! She was the good one. She was Karl. Tilly was me, the old me before I became their mom. She wanted to move the second she opened her eyes. She was never satisfied with being in one place. As I wrote my first sentences of the day I could see Tilly roll her eyes as Marley reminded her that she had a Japanese lesson in the afternoon. I rolled my eyes with her. Who teaches a five-year-old Japanese? Why couldn’t I just let them be kids? When I pulled the string to turn off the light in my room at the zen center at night I heard them recite their quiet prayers.

When we spoke they still told me about their days and repeated that they loved me and missed me. But their enthusiasm for our conversations was gone. I didn’t know how to get it back. Some days I was able to tell myself they’d hardly remember these months without their mother. On my worst days I felt my betrayal like a knife through my heart.

I’d hoped the time and space would lead to long phone conversations with Karl, the kind of connection I’d been craving from our early days. With each call I buzzed with anticipation to hear his voice. I desperately wanted to talk to him for hours, to tell him everything about my days, my writing, how bit by bit I was figuring out how I wanted to live again. But he grew short on the phone and the last time we’d spoken he’d broken down in tears.

“I don’t understand any of this, Kate. I wanted you to have your time, but this is too much.” He choked on the words.

“I’ll be home soon,” I promised, even though I knew it sounded empty.

“I don’t think I can talk to you anymore,” he croaked. “You can talk to the girls. You should talk to the girls. But it’s too painful to talk to you.”

I was shocked. Was he saying and doing this to punish me, or was I just being that cruel to my husband that he had to cut off communication with me? I didn’t know.

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