A Wedding in December

“No. I applied to be a garden designer.” It sounded ridiculous now. How had she ever thought she’d stand a chance getting a job with no qualifications? And yet she’d felt so hopeful when she’d applied. She’d put together a portfolio of photos of her garden, and friends’ gardens she’d worked on, sure she’d be able to prove herself in an interview. But she hadn’t been offered an interview. Instead she’d received an impersonal email telling her that she didn’t have the experience they were looking for.

She’d printed out the email and put it in her file. And never mentioned it to anyone until today.

“I know you love the garden. You’ve transformed Honeysuckle Cottage. Do you remember when we moved in? It was a wilderness.”

She remembered. And she remembered her excitement at the gradual transformation from wilderness to a dream garden. “A hobby doesn’t qualify you to do a paid job.”

“Very few people get the first job they apply for. These days people apply for multiple jobs.”

She pushed her plate away from her. “I applied for multiple jobs.”

“What? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this.”

She shrugged. “There was nothing to tell. I didn’t get a single interview, let alone a job. Maybe I don’t sound like the type of person who uses a planner.”

“I didn’t know you were unhappy with your life.”

“I wasn’t, but my life has changed, Nick. It changed after Rosie left home. I needed something else, but it isn’t as easy as it looks in the movies. That isn’t how real life works.” Her head throbbed. Which of them had started this conversation?

“I hadn’t thought about the sacrifice you made until last night in the car.”

“Staying at home wasn’t a sacrifice, it was a choice. And you’re right, I loved being there for our girls.”

“But it makes you feel inferior. And I don’t understand why it would.”

“Think about it, Nick! Do you ever read a feature praising a woman whose life is to care for her disabled child or parent with Alzheimer’s? No, you don’t. When someone talks about ‘achievement’ they’re talking about salary and status, not the fact that you actually managed to take a shower and change your clothes after being in the hospital with your child for two nights straight even though, believe me, that’s an achievement. You read about hedge fund managers who get up at three in the morning so they can get their workout done, use the gym, clear their emails and make a healthy breakfast for the whole family before putting in a full day of work in the city and returning home in time to read bedtime stories and then do another few hours of work before having perfect sex, three hours undisturbed REM sleep and waking up and starting again. You read about women who were at home with children and suddenly realized that if they started charging for all the cupcakes they made for their children’s friends and school events, they could turn their baking skills into a profitable business. And, by the way, the woman I read about didn’t look as if she’d ever baked a cupcake in her life and she certainly hadn’t eaten one. What you never read about is the millions of normal women who are struggling to hold it all together and don’t own a planner because we don’t exactly know what we’d write in one!”

“Maggie, breathe!”

She breathed, and realized he was looking at her as if she were a stranger. “Sorry. Might have got a little carried away there.”

“A little?”

“Ignore me. I’m feeling a little bruised by all the rejections, that’s all. My file is full.”

“You keep a file? Where?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve accepted that a new direction isn’t as easy as it looks. Or I thought I’d accepted it, and then I read about Catherine who makes it look easy.” She finished her toast and lifted her mug of coffee. “Don’t look so traumatized. Maybe I don’t have a job I love, but I adore my family. Life is always a compromise.”

“But you’re the one who made the compromises.” His voice was rough. “I flew around the world, leaving you to hold the fort.”

“And you missed out on being with the girls. You weren’t there when Rosie took her first steps, or the first time Katie read a whole page of her book and realized that words linked together. That was magical.” She put her coffee down, remembering. “If I could have my time again, I’d do the same.” But maybe she could have worked a little harder to find a different job. She’d played it safe, staying in the same place where they accommodated her family pressures. Maybe she should have looked a little harder to find the one thing she would have loved to do. But she wasn’t like Nick, who had excavated his parents’ garden aged five and written to the director of the British Museum when he was nine. She didn’t have one overriding passion.

He was frowning at her. “What you said earlier—I don’t always succeed at everything.”

“You do, and that’s okay. I’m proud of you, Nick. I always have been.”

“You’re talking about my work.”

“It’s more than your work. It’s your passion. It’s the most important thing to you, we all know that.”

“Family is important, too. I didn’t succeed at that.” His voice was rough. “I didn’t succeed at our marriage.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. There was a long silence.

He started to speak but then paused and his gaze shifted to a point over her shoulder.

“Rosie is here. Bad timing. Looks as if she has some clothes for you.”