The Change Room by Karen Connelly

Author:Karen Connelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2017-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

21

Day of Liberation

AFTER THE NEWS, ANDREW DECLARED THAT HE WAS peckish. “We should celebrate all these liberation protests in the Middle East. Come down and have a glass of wine with me.”

“Wine, at ten o’clock at night? That’s romantic,” she said, and gave him a come-hither smile. “But it will make me fat.”

As she stood up, he slapped her butt. “Good. You’re looking way too fit lately. All that swimming. Eat something!” He wanted to tell Eliza about his visit to the urologist; to do that, he needed to fortify her with food.

In the kitchen, while his wife put out cheese and crackers and sliced up an apple, Andrew opened a bottle of reasonably good red. They sat down on stools along the island, clinked glasses. “To liberation,” he said. She echoed his words with a smile. He added, “I’m not just talking about the Arab world.”

“Good. It should be an aspiration for the whole planet.”

“Actually, I’m toasting something closer to home. Much closer to home.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had an appointment with the urologist today.”

She stared at him blankly.

Then fear, of cancer or some other illness, rose into her eyes. He quickly said, “Nothing disastrous. I went to discuss getting snipped.”

Her mouth opened; no word came out.

“We’ve been talking about a vasectomy since Jake was born. So I finally went and met the urologist. Just a preliminary appointment.” He decided not to reveal that he’d already booked a date for the procedure. It couldn’t happen until May. She would have plenty of time to adjust.

Eliza took a larger sip of wine and held it in her mouth for a few seconds. Swallowed. Then she said, “How could you do that to me?”

He laughed. Judging from the expression on her face, this was a mistake. “Come on. It makes sense. And nothing is going to happen to you.”

“It doesn’t make sense. What if…?”

Andrew reached across the cool stone counter and took her hand. “What if you wanted to have another baby? You have to face the facts, Eliza. I’m done having kids. And if I have a vasectomy, we would be free. We wouldn’t have to worry about an accidental pregnancy anymore. Sex would be a lot less stressful. In case you haven’t noticed, condoms are not working all that well for me these days.”

“It’s not ‘what if I wanted another baby.’ I don’t want another one. I am managing the longings. No more babies.” He looked unconvinced. “Really. But what if you have the same pain that Sheila’s husband developed after his vasectomy?” She slid her hand away from his.

“Sheila’s husband had a vasectomy?” Andrew frowned. “Really?” Sheila’s husband Karl was a tall, athletic man—Andrew often saw him out running; running, not jogging—who wrote historical novels about his Norwegian ancestors. They were Andrew and Eliza’s neighbours to the south. Sheila was an English professor, and an author, too. “What pain? Karl didn’t mention anything to me.”

“How often do you see him?” Eliza asked in a withering tone. “At the neighbourhood barbecue once a year.

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