Flirting with Fifty

Chapter 5

Paige had fallen asleep listening to an economic podcast, and then woke up slowly, happy it was the weekend. She snuggled back into her pillows and covers, wanting to linger in that lovely, relaxed, sleepy state, and maybe fall back asleep for another hour or so.

But somehow in her lovely, relaxed, sleepy state she pictured Jack, and her pulse quickened, and before she could dismiss him, her mind began to work. He’d done so much in the thirty years since they’d both been in Paris. His list of accomplishments was so impressive, it was almost too much. How did one do all that he’d done and have a personal life? A family life?

Maybe he’d sacrificed family for his professional life, much as she’d done the opposite. She’d avoided—declined—opportunities that would have earned her more money, given her a higher profile, because more work meant less time to be the mother she wanted to be, and the wife her husband had wanted her to be.

Turning over in bed, Paige fluffed her pillow and told herself she didn’t regret her choices—but she did feel some envy that there were others who could juggle responsibilities better, and had been able to pursue more opportunities, possibly more lucrative opportunities. Although, to be fair, her passions were her girls, and that wasn’t something academics wanted to hear from colleagues. Passions were to be one’s field, not the people at home.

She’d tried to have both, and do both, but from the beginning of motherhood she’d been aware that her daughters were only with her for a short time before they’d declare their own emancipation and move on in the world. She’d raised them to be strong and independent, and they were. Their careers were starting to absorb them, their adult relationships were taking up increasing amounts of time, and one day—not that far off—they’d start families of their own and Paige would be lucky to be included in birthdays and holidays.

This is why she worked hard now, saving for retirement, making plans for her own future. The little house in Cayucos or Avila Beach. The garden teeming with vegetables and sunflowers. The front porch with a chair facing the sea. She’d be close to her mom, but not on top of her. Close to her brother’s family, but again, not in their back pocket.

She’d have time to read all those books that she hadn’t been able to read, time to binge those interesting streaming shows, time for all the farmers markets, beach walks, and shell collecting her heart desired. She’d be outside as much as possible with the sun on her face and the smell of salt in the air.

But later, a little voice challenged her, whispering, is that really enough? Because she wasn’t an introvert. She didn’t enjoy farmers markets on her own. She liked to visit with her daughters. And then she left to go to lunch somewhere, sit outside on the patio and enjoy a meal with her girls or with Elizabeth. She enjoyed being with others, being surrounded by those she loved . . . and those who loved her.

There was a certain disquieting unease in the idea of growing older alone, which is why she’d always pictured a life where she’d be a very involved grandmother, someone who’d come in and take care of the grandkids, plan fun weekend things with her extended family . . .

But what if Nichole didn’t have kids? She said she wasn’t sure. And what if Michelle didn’t want or need her visiting too often, because as a firstborn, she was fiercely independent? Her youngest would probably always need her, which was a comfort, but again, that would probably change one day after she married. And Paige had to be realistic—even the best sons-in-law didn’t want their mother-in-law always over, hovering. Interfering. Not that Paige would ever want to hover or interfere, but she’d learned from her marriage that men only had so much patience for one’s mother-in-law before they simply didn’t want another visit. Or at least not for a year. Once a year had been enough for Ted, but Paige couldn’t imagine only seeing her girls, or grandchildren, so infrequently. It was one of the reasons she wanted a charming beach house filled with sunflowers. She wanted her girls to always feel welcome, to know she’d always be there for them, no matter what.

It struck her then just how often she framed her future in terms of being accessible for her daughters.

How decisions were made, or not made, so that she’d be available for them.

Even when they didn’t ask it of her.

Elizabeth had challenged her before to say yes to more opportunities that had nothing to do with her girls—opportunities like dating and travel.

Paige had disagreed, rather fiercely. She wasn’t hanging around just waiting for a call from one of the girls. Paige had a life.

In fact, she was doing something today, for herself, she thought, throwing back the covers and climbing from bed. She was going to take a barre class at nine, and then do some errands, maybe hit the farmers market and pick up fish and fresh produce. She was going to have a wonderful day, the kind of day she liked best.

Even if she was on her own.

*   *   *

With no papers to write and Oliver unexpectedly home for the weekend, Jack offered to drive up to see him and take Oliver to lunch. Instead, Oliver suggested driving to Orange County Saturday morning, saying he’d like to see his dad’s place, and maybe they could eat near the water somewhere before he returned home as he had an engagement for that evening.

“A date?” Jack asked.

“A premiere for a friend’s film.” Oliver paused. “But yes, I’m taking someone with me, so I’ll need to make an effort.”

“If today’s not good—”

“Today’s great. It looks like a beautiful morning, too, so perfect for a drive.”

Less than two hours later, Oliver called to say he was exiting the freeway and should be to Jack’s complex in less than five minutes. Jack headed down to the parking lot, eager to see his son.

Jack pointed to the visitor parking where there was still one spot open, and Oliver parked, exited the car. Jack gave his son a bear hug. Oliver smelled fresh, as if he’d just stepped from the shower. “How was the traffic?” Jack asked.

“Not bad at all. Got down here in just a little over an hour. Practically record time.”

“Good. Are you hungry?”

“Not yet, but I will be.”

“Anything special you want to do?”

“I want to see your apartment, and then I thought maybe we’d head to the coast. You know I love the water.”

“There’s not much to see in my apartment, Oliver. I have a bed, a table, a chair, and that’s about it.”

“I thought you were going to rent furniture?”

“I did. A bed, a table, and a chair.”

“What about a couch?”

“If I want to lie down, I’ve got my bed.”

“What if you want to watch TV?”