17 | NO ACTION
January 24, 2006
PART OF MY POST-REBECCA PLAN IS TO TRY TO improve things with Julia and also with work. With my left hand I’ll conduct one side of the orchestra and with my right the other side, and together I can bring calm from chaos. I feel the momentum can be with me, that things can happen effortlessly. I think this is the start of what it must be like to feel lucky. It’s only an idea now, just a secret project, but it seems to be expanding. I want to be home more, and I make plans with Julia to cook dinner at home like a normal night for a normal couple. Julia has done the shopping and started the cooking by the time I get home.
“I got swordfish and I’m trying a recipe for risotto with truffles.”
“Sounds great.” It doesn’t smell great. So far it just smells fishy but there is garlic in the risotto or the swordfish marinade that is starting to make it better.
“There’s a shrimp cocktail ready.” She points toward the butler’s station just off the kitchen, at a dish of cocktail sauce with shrimp the size of hot dogs hanging in a ring around the sides. “Would you open a bottle of white? I picked some up. They’re in the refrigerator.”
I step through the kitchen, past the empty store bags from Citarella cast on the floor, scooping and crumpling them up on my way. The grocery receipt is dangling from one. If we feel too loose with our money, cooking at home instead of eating at a restaurant is a remedy. It isn’t enough to make a real difference in savings, but it makes us feel more responsible. Even though we have empty cupboards and have to shop for every item we cook, there is something reassuring about preparing our own food, a sort of reminder that we might survive in the wild if necessary. I notice that the shrimp, swordfish, and truffles alone are almost two hundred dollars. With wine and a few other items, the total is over three fifty, more than we would spend in a great restaurant. In the annals of overspending, this will be in the top few. But she’s cooking and I’m not going to discourage that. I toss the bags and receipt away and eat a shrimp.
“I talked to Abbey Roberts today,” she says. Julia used to work with Abbey until about ten years ago when Abbey got married, quit work, moved to Philadelphia, and had two kids.
“How is she?”
“She seems very happy. Kids are six and eight now and both in school. I think she’s struggling with the idea of being past the age of having a baby and now has kids that are growing up fast. And she wants to know when we’re having kids.”
“What did you tell her?” My fear that I wouldn’t be a good father is stronger than ever. I can imagine Julia struggling with Abbey’s question. We’ve told ourselves that we’re putting off kids until we move out of Manhattan or something signals a change that we’re ready for kids, but we don’t know anymore if that is the truth. No action is a form of action if you wait long enough.
“I told her we’re getting long in the tooth to start trying to have kids.”
I don’t say anything. We’re not that old but I’m not sure if she is looking for me to agree or disagree with this statement. I know I don’t want to start trying for kids, but I don’t want to give away my position. I just nod.
“You know what she said? She wondered if I might have a medical problem carrying a baby. She offered to be our surrogate. To carry our baby for us.” It’s been years since I’ve seen Abbey. I think for Julia too. “What a kind person. I told her the problem isn’t with that, but what an incredible gesture.”
“Yeah. We better hope she never needs a kidney.” Julia looks at me as though I’ve tortured a nun. I try to laugh up the joke but it feels awkward and as though I was partly serious. That’s the thing about joking.
“It was one of the most touching things anyone has ever done for me. She said she had easy pregnancies and actually enjoyed being pregnant. She said if we need help, she’ll do it. It’s a serious offer.”
“It’s an incredible offer, but we don’t know that this is something we need. Have you been to the doctor or something?”
“No. I don’t know if we need her help, but now is the time, Nick. If we’re going to try, I want to try soon.”
“Julia, of all the years of our marriage, now feels like the worst time to try for kids.” Her look says that she demands an explanation from me. My work is still an issue, but that’s been a constant and one that she can dismiss. The other issue is that I don’t trust what is happening with us and with Oliver and I can’t decide if I can discuss this with her and not hear something that will gut me.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
My mind is working furiously but making no progress, like a car stuck in snow. I’m not able to see two steps ahead in the conversation. “I just don’t think we’re in a great place right now. Our relationship.” My phone vibrates in my pocket, announcing a text message. I hardly ever text, and I think about using this as a time-out from the conversation but I know that would make things worse.
“Nick, I know that. You know that I know that. I think I’d like to have a baby. There’s a risk that our relationship isn’t strong enough for this, but I’m running out of time.”
“You’re not out of time but we both have to want this. If we have a baby, it isn’t just our relationship that we’re risking anymore. Going in half expecting to fail isn’t good enough.”
“I don’t expect to fail.”
“Then what’s going on with you?” I nearly shout this and my aggression confuses her.
“What are you talking about?”
I look away, trying not to say it, but I feel it coming on like a heave of vomit that I can’t swallow. “Oliver.” There, I’ve said it and part of me wants it back. I don’t feel the relief that usually comes after throwing up. Julia stares evenly and seems not surprised but not guilty. “Not so much Oliver specifically. Just the prospect of someone. Julia, as long as I’ve known you, I’ve never felt even a hint of you glancing in another direction or trying to get a glance back. It’s not an energy you put off. Until now. Now it seems like something you’re open to.”
“Nick, nothing is going on between me and Oliver.”
“What does nothing mean? You never had sex?” I feel safe I know the answer to this.
“Of course not.”
“Never flirted? Never felt anything?” I want to feel convinced now, to drive out the demons.
“No.”
I think she’s admitting to me as much as she’s admitted to herself, which may be less than everything. “Julia, something is different. Worse. It used to be second nature that we’re an unconditional team. Now I feel you’re looking in another direction.”
“I’m not happy. You know that. But you’re my husband and I love you.”
I realize it’s not that I don’t want to have a baby but that I’m afraid to. Julia deserves to be a mother. “I’m not saying no to a baby. Let’s figure out the right thing.”
Julia looks away, frustrated and silent. This sounds like the same commitment to dialogue that has ushered by the years, but I mean for it to be more now.
“This isn’t just talk. Go to the doctor and see where we are medically. Let’s get all the information first.”
“Okay. I’ll get in to a fertility doctor next week. Sooner if I can.” She seems suspicious this is just a delay tactic but is still claiming whatever ground has been made. Possibly she’s already been to the doctor and has a loaded deck. At any rate, it seems clear she feels the current form of our relationship is worth putting at risk. The outcomes of a baby with us together and a baby with us apart are both better than more of the same. She’s not going to settle for no action anymore.
I walk into the living room to check the text message. I open the flip phone and it’s Rebecca’s number.
where are you?
This is amazingly appealing but not the best timing. All of this will be hard enough without temptation. The phone buzzes again while I’m holding it open and it startles me.
where’s the fence?
I close the phone. Crap.