The Cactus by Sarah Haywood

Author:Sarah Haywood
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Park Row Books
Published: 2018-02-16T17:52:37+00:00

December

15

I find it hard to believe it’s now six months since sperm inadvertently met egg and the inexorable process of cell division commenced; it seems only days ago that that little plastic stick delivered its thundering verdict. In other ways, however, it feels like decades have passed. When I took the test, my mother was alive and well(ish) and there was a family home I could return to whenever I felt inclined. Now I’m parentless, rootless, adrift with no anchor. No, I retract that. I have no idea why such weak-minded thoughts have started to form in my head. As you’re aware, I’ve always been the author of my own destiny. We can choose how to define ourselves, and I define myself as an autonomous and resourceful woman. What I lack in terms of family and other close personal relationships is more than compensated for by my rich inner life, which is infinitely more constant and dependable.

I can’t help, though, but feel twinges of regret that my mother never knew about my pregnancy. What would she have made of it, I wonder? Would she have been shocked, worried, pleased? It’s hard to imagine her having any of those reactions. She always treated my achievements with mild, disinterested approval and my disappointments with equally mild, disinterested regret. It was clear that she wished the best for me, but she also wished the best for the newspaper boy and the girl who helped out in the greengrocers. Edward’s every minor success, on the other hand, was a source of intense joy and a cause for great celebration on her part, and his failures (which were regular and predictable) elicited sympathy or distress. My father would probably have been pleased about my pregnancy, so long as he wasn’t expected to have anything to do with the child. His attitude toward Edward and me, on the occasions when he was sober, appeared to be satisfaction that he’d fathered offspring, mixed with annoyance at the practicalities of interacting with us. When he was drunk, satisfaction metamorphosed into euphoria and annoyance into seething resentment, admittedly aimed more at Edward than at me.

* * *

As I was writing my short Christmas present and card list, Kate disturbed my peace yet again. She’s taken to knocking on my door whenever she feels like it, particularly if she wants to share her frustration about her ongoing marital dispute. Apparently, sometimes Alex demands to see the children when it’s inconvenient, sometimes he pleads unavoidable business commitments when he’s needed; sometimes he treats Kate as though they’re old friends, sometimes he treats her like his nemesis. I’ve told her on numerous occasions that she should just change her phone number, put new locks on the front door and forget she ever had a husband. Her response is always the same: “Oh, Susan, life isn’t that simple.” It makes me very grateful that Richard’s position vis-à-vis the baby will be agreed well in advance of its birth. At least I won’t have to engage in such irritating and time-consuming maneuvering.

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