Yet when I mention it, I get the response I expect—a shrug and a mumbled reply, before he turns away.
“She’s settled?” I press, because part of me has to. “Transferring her wasn’t… too difficult?” I feel as if I’m stumbling in the dark, because I don’t even know if that would be an issue. I’ve read online a bit about Emily’s condition, and what it means, but since I’ve never seen her and James never talks about her to me, it’s so hard to know even what questions to ask.
“Yes, she’s settled.” James’ tone is definitely final-sounding now. “I’m going to change.”
He heads to the bedroom and I move around the kitchen, stirring the pasta sauce I’ve made—out of a jar with some portobello mushrooms added to make it seem a little more like homemade. Neither James or I are great cooks; we tend to rely on upscale ingredients to make up for the fact that everything is out of a box or a jar. I asked him once if he cooked when he’d been with Rachel, out of curiosity rather than spite or jealousy, but his expression closed right up and he looked away.
“Pancakes,” he’d stated flatly. “My Saturday morning speciality, with Emily.”
Immediately I had an image of him and his little girl, measuring flour and sugar, cracking eggs, and my heart ached for them both. But when I tried to express that, he shrugged me off, just as he has now.
I’m not surprised. I understand why James doesn’t want to talk about these things, because they hurt too much. Aren’t I the same? Bury it down deep enough and maybe you can pretend it isn’t there at all. At least James told me about Rachel and Emily, laid it all out, hiding nothing. The fact that he hasn’t wanted to talk about it since doesn’t change the fact he was honest.
But in moments like this it leaves me feeling left out, cut off, and even more so when I see the teddy bear I’d bought Emily sticking out of his messenger bag. Why didn’t he give it to her? I know it’s a paltry gesture, but it felt wrong not to give her something now, not to recognize she’s part of my life, even if she really isn’t. Even if I’m not sure I actually want her to be.
“You didn’t give Emily the teddy bear,” I remark when he comes back downstairs. I meant to sound curious, gently inquiring, but it comes out accusing. Normally I wouldn’t have said anything at all. I don’t know why I feel like stirring things up now; I should be trying to get things back to the way they normally are between us, easy and relaxed. Perhaps it’s because this month’s disappointment has hit me harder than usual, and James’ silence feels thick and oppressive, like something is suffocating me, making me doubt how strong or good our marriage really is.
“There wasn’t a good time,” James says. “Sorry. I’ll give it to her next time.”
“Okay.” I stir the sauce, willing myself to let it go. “Do you think Rachel would mind?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. It just felt a bit tense. She’s not happy with Emily being there, so…” So she wouldn’t want her daughter to have teddy bear? This time I really do let it go. It’s not about me. It was just a gesture anyway, a show of support or maybe even some vaguely passive-aggressive of letting Rachel know I’m involved. Even if I’m not.
“How is Rachel now?” I ask. “Has she… accepted it, do you think?”
“She has to. She knows a legal battle is way too expensive, and it wouldn’t be good for Emily, anyway.” He sighs. “She’ll get there, eventually. It’s a really nice place. There’s a music room.”
I nod, although if I were in Rachel’s position, I think I’d feel the same way. I wouldn’t care about a stupid music room; I’d wanted the best medical care for my child.
Really?
I silence that voice immediately by opening a bottle of wine. I hand James a glass, and he takes it with a murmured thanks. We’ve been off kilter this last week, with all the stress and tension around Emily’s move. I want to get back to normal. I want to think about us, to laugh and lie my legs in his lap and sip wine as we surf on our laptops or watch something mindless on TV. Or even better, I want to go away for a Sunday—our only free day—maybe to a country inn in the Berkshires, or even up to Vermont. We could take the Monday off…
I wait until we’ve both had a glass of wine and we’re eaten our pasta before bringing the whole pregnancy, or lack of it, up, although part of me is telling me to leave it, that this surely isn’t the right time. “You might have realized,” I say with what I hope is a somewhat wry look, “it didn’t happen this month.”
James looks back at me blankly. “What didn’t happen?”
I tamp down the instinctive spike of irritation I feel. It’s so uncharitable. His daughter is in palliative care; can I really be so insensitive as to talk about being pregnant—or not—now? To expect him to notice?
The answer is that yes, I can, because I’ve come to realize there won’t ever be that mythical better time, not for us. There will always be Emily, in one way or another, and we still have to live our lives.
“I got my period.”
James looks blank for another few seconds, and I do my best to keep my expression neutral. He knows we’re meant to be trying. He’s seen the ovulation kit in the bathroom. He bought that bottle of wine. He laced his fingers over mine and said maybe this month. Surely he realizes how important this is to me, five months in?
“Considering everything,” he says slowly, “maybe that’s for the best.”
I let those words roll around in my mind like marbles. “Considering everything?”
“It’s just… you know, Eva, with Emily…”
“But nothing has actually changed with Emily,” I point out carefully, trying to keep my tone gentle. “In terms of her condition.” I want to be sensitive and sympathetic, and I try so hard, I really do, but there comes a point. The research online has told me that Emily could live as she is now, with no change, for many years. Meanwhile, for me, each month matters. I feel guilty for thinking that way, but I have to.
“Eva.” James blows out a breath as he leans back in his chair, cradling his glass of wine. “I know this is important to you, but… do we have to do this now?”
“We’re not doing anything.” My gentle tone has dropped. “I just told you I’m not pregnant.”
“Okay, then.”