Bittersweet

CHAPTER 10

WHEN DOUG arrived in Harwich for his three-week vacation, there was still tension between them. The subject of her working never came up again, nor did any of the things they'd said before, but the remaining aura their words had left behind hung over them like a constant cloud of vapor. At times, India felt as though she could hardly see through it, and she felt as though she were moving through a fog, and living with a stranger. The children noticed it as well, but none of them said anything. It would have been too frightening for any of them to acknowledge the malaise that remained tangible but unspoken and unresolved between their parents. It was like a bad smell that hung in the air and couldn't be ignored. But it was only in the last few days of their stay in Harwich that India finally said something to him.
“What are we going to do about all this when we go back?” she asked cautiously. The children were out, spending final moments with their friends. There was always a kind of frenzy about the end of the vacation. Usually, they gave a barbecue, but they had decided not to this year. That in itself was a statement of sorts, but India didn't question Doug's decision when he said he didn't want to do it. Neither did she. She was tired of the pretense that everything was all right between them. For the first time in seventeen years, it wasn't. The angry seeds that had been sown in June had grown into a tree whose branches had begun to choke them. And India didn't know whether to chop it down, or hope it would wither on its own. The solution to the problem was still a mystery to her.
“What do you mean?” Doug pretended not to know what she was talking about, but it was hard to ignore the unfriendly atmosphere between them, and she wanted to do something about it before they went home, and it poisoned their daily routine. It was bad enough to have sacrificed the summer to it, but a line had to be drawn somewhere before it was too late.
“It's been a pretty lousy summer, wouldn't you say?” India said, looking across the kitchen table at him. They had just had lunch, and neither of them had said a word to each other.
“We've both been busy. Some years are like that,” he said vaguely, but they both knew it was a lie. No year had ever been like this between them, and she hoped it would never be like this again.
“You've been busy, and we've both been upset and angry. I'd like to know where things stand. We can't go on like this forever. Something's got to ease up, or we'll both go nuts.” It was just too lonely, never speaking to each other, never touching, each of them trapped on separate islands with no boat, no bridge to join them. She had never felt as alone as this in her entire life. She felt abandoned by him, deserted. He felt she had betrayed him, by saying the things she had, pressing him about going back to work, and asking him to give more than he ever had.
“Maybe I should ask you where you stand? That's what this is all about, isn't it? Your pushing me about going back to work. Is that what you still have in mind when we go back to Westport?” But she was no longer sure now. The price was high. Maybe too high. He had said it was a deal-breaker, and she believed him, and she wasn't prepared to break the deal they had, not yet at least, and maybe never.
“All I wanted to do was let them know that I'd be willing to do a story from time to time, preferably close to home, and nothing on a long assignment. I just want to open the door a crack.”
“That crack will eventually flood our lives and drown us. You know that. In fact, I think it's what you have in mind, India, and you know it.”
“You're wrong, Doug. I turned down the job in Korea. I'm not looking to destroy our lives, just save mine.” But she had realized it was more than that. Even if he let her do an assignment from time to time, it didn't solve the problem of how he felt about her, how dry and dreary he felt about their life. She knew now that she was something less than the woman he loved. She was a helpmate, a convenience, a caretaker for his children. But there was no passion in what he felt for her, no excitement, no romance. She could no longer fool herself about their marriage—whether she worked or not.
“I told you very clearly,” he went on, “how I felt about your working. None of that has changed. What you do about it is your choice. If you want to take that chance, go ahead.”
“That's a pretty terrifying challenge, Doug,” she said, with tears in her eyes. “It's like daring me to jump off the roof, without telling me if there will be a net to catch me when I fall.”
“What difference does it make? You don't seem to care about that anyway, do you? You're willing to sacrifice our kids, our life, and the agreement we made, to do what you want. If that's what you want, then take the chance.” It was as if he was daring her to do it.
“I'm not that stupid. But you have to realize that you're taking a chance too. If you don't care what I feel, you have to realize that sooner or later it's going to take a toll on us. In fact,” she said quietly, thinking of the past few weeks, and even the month before that, “it already has.”
“It sounds like we're screwed either way.” He looked nonplussed. The only real emotion he still seemed to have about it was anger, and absolutely no compassion for her, or at least that was how she felt about it. “Do whatever you want, India. It sounds like you will anyway.”
“Not necessarily. I don't want to be irresponsible. And I never wanted to cause a revolution,” she said sadly.
“Sure you did, India. That's what this is all about. But let me just tell you clearly one more time. You can't have everything you want. You can't have me, and our family, and a career. Sooner or later, you're going to have to make a choice here.” But the choice he was asking her to make would cost her her self. That was the problem for her now.
“I guess you've made that pretty clear. And if I don't go back to work? Then what? You think I'm wonderful and fabulous and devoted and you adore me and are grateful for the rest of my life?” She said it bitterly, and she suddenly remembered the things Paul had said about giving up too much, and what it would do to her in the end. She didn't want to be bitter and miserable, and feel cheated for the rest of her life, as she did now.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Doug said, looking angry. “I think you've gone completely crazy, and I wish I knew who put this crap into your head. I still think it was Gail.” It had been a lot of things, a lot of people, a lot of dreams she had finally remembered, which she had given up for so long. It was something Gail had said in June, and the things Doug hadn't, and talking to Paul, and meeting Serena. And now it was all the thinking she had done for the past three months, and Doug's coldness to her. He hadn't touched her since July. She knew it was her punishment for all she'd said. And she couldn't help wondering now how long the punishment would continue.
“You act as though you expect an award for being a wife and mother. India, that's your job. I don't get an award for doing mine. They don't give Pulitzers or Nobel prizes for leading a normal life. This is what you signed on for. If you're expecting a prize for this, or if you're expecting me to kiss your feet every time you pick the kids up at school, India, don't. I don't know what's gotten into you, but if you want to be a career woman, or a photographer floating all over the world, you're going to have to pay a price to do that.”
“I feel like I already have just for talking to you about it, Doug. You've been punishing me for the last two months.” He didn't answer, and all she could see in his eyes was ice and anger.
“I think you've been unfair, dishonest, and you've betrayed all of us with what you're saying. You never told me you'd want to go back to work one day. but never said anything about that.” It was obvious how betrayed he felt from everything he'd done to her since she first said it.
“I didn't know,” she said honestly. “I never really thought I'd want to go back, and for all intents and purposes, I don't. I just want to do a story from time to time.” By now, it was a familiar chorus between them.
“That's the same thing.” He stood up then, and looked at her with rigid disapproval, and what looked to her like strong aversion. “We've said enough about all this. Make up your mind.”
She nodded, and watched him go, and she stood in the kitchen alone for a long time. She could see her children playing on the beach as she looked out the window, and she wondered if it would really be as terrible for them as he said. Would it be such a shock, such a blow, such a betrayal? Somehow she just couldn't bring herself to believe that. Other women worked and traveled and still managed to take care of their children, and their kids didn't all end up in jail and on drugs as a result. It was Doug who wanted her there every moment, nailed to the floor, doing the job he had hired her on for, without offering her either compassion or love. It was Doug who was forcing her to make the choice. But a choice between what and what? Did she owe him total obedience, like a galley slave, with the chance to be little more than his housekeeper and companion? Or did she owe herself something more? She knew what Paul would have said.
And as she stood there, thinking about it again, she knew it was hopeless. He was never going to come around, or agree to what she wanted. In fact, she had no choice, unless she was willing to give him up. And for now at any rate, that still seemed too high a price to pay for just a taste of freedom.
She said nothing to him when she went into the bedroom to pack their things. She made no announcement, she never told him she'd made up her mind. She just gave up. The dreams she had came at too high a price, and she knew it.
She was very quiet that night at dinner, which was unlike her. She told the kids to pack their things the next day, and she did everything she had to, to close the house. She didn't go to see the Parkers to say good-bye, or anyone else that year. She just did what was expected of her, what her “job” was, as Doug said, and when it was time to leave, she got in the car with the others.
They stopped at McDonald's on the way home, and she ordered for the kids and Doug, fed the dog, and ate nothing herself. And when they got home and unloaded the car, she went inside, and Jessica turned to her father.
“What's wrong with Mom? Is she sick or something?” They had all noticed it, but she was the only one who dared to ask him.
“I think she's just tired,” Doug said calmly. “It's a big job closing the house.” Jessica nodded, wanting to believe him, but her mother had closed the house every summer, and she had never looked like that. She looked drawn and pale and unhappy, and more than once Jessica was sure she'd seen tears in her mother's eyes when India thought no one was looking. Her parents never said a word to each other on the entire trip back to Westport.
And finally that night, India said something to Doug. She turned to look at him as they were getting ready for bed, and fought back tears as she told him. “I'm not going to take my name off the roster. But I won't take any assignments if they call.”
“What's the point of that? Why not do it cleanly? If you're not going to take the jobs, why let them call?”
“Why not? Eventually they'll stop calling anyway. It's just good for my ego when they call to know they still want me.” He looked at her for a long moment, and then shrugged. He wanted not only her heart, but her liver and her kidneys. It wasn't enough that she had given in to him, he wanted to drive home the point. Even though he knew he'd won. He wanted to be sure the subject would never come up again. He wanted to know he owned her. And more importantly, he wanted her to know it.
He didn't thank her, didn't praise her, didn't tell her she'd done a great thing for mankind, or for him, and that he was grateful for it. He just walked into their bathroom, closed the door, and took a shower. India was already in bed when he came out half an hour later.
He turned off the lights, slipped into bed beside her, lay there for a while, and then finally turned toward her in silence, and ran lazy fingers down her back.
“Still awake?” he whispered.
“Yes.” In some remote part of her she was waiting for him to tell her he loved her, that he was sorry it had been so rough for her, that he would cherish her and make her happy for the rest of her life. Instead, he reached a hand around her in silence and touched her breast, and she could feel her whole body turn to granite. She wanted to turn around and slap him for what he had done to her, for what he hadn't said, for how little he cared about her feelings, but she said nothing to him as she lay with her back turned to him in the darkness.
He tried caressing her for a little while, and she showed no reaction, and didn't turn toward him as she always had. And after a while, he stopped.
They lay side by side in the dark, with a chasm between them the size of an ocean. It was an ocean of sorrow and pain and disappointment. He had defeated her, he had won. And she had lost a part of herself. All she had now was a job. She could cook for him, clean for him, drive for their children, and make sure they were warmly dressed in winter. She could ask him how his day had been at the office, when he wasn't too tired to answer. She could give him what she had promised him years before, for better or worse. And as far as India was concerned, this was worse. And better was far, far behind them.