A Family Affair
Robyn Carr
ONE
Anna McNichol gently grasped her mother’s bent, arthritic hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said. “I will be alone forever.”
Blanche was eighty-five and in assisted living but she was on the facility’s wait list for their full care because her health was slipping and Anna knew memory care was just around the corner.
“You have me, though I’m not much use anymore, and you have your children, though they’re your children and you’re supposed to clear the way for them, not the other way around. I think at the end of the day, we’re all alone, aren’t we? We all have to stand on our own no matter how many people surround us. I guess you’ll have to be strong. Like you have always had to be.”
“Weren’t you ever scared?” Anna asked Blanche.
“I was always scared,” Blanche said. “But what are you gonna do? Quit? What good does that do?”
“I’m not sure how to go forward from here,” Anna said.
“And yet go forward you will,” Blanche said. “Because there’s really no choice about it.”
The truth hit her at her husband’s funeral. That’s when Anna became suddenly and painfully aware of that thing she’d been missing, that reality. When she saw the pregnant woman with one of the assistants from her husband’s office she knew. All she was lacking were the facts.
The woman looked so young, not yet thirty. Maybe thirty-five if she was very young looking for her age. She was poised and distant, not mingling. There was a radiance about her, that motherly glow. The assistant, whose name Anna did not remember, escorted the woman. Anna watched as they greeted a few people, made a couple of introductions and then they stayed back.
Could it be or was Anna imagining things? She was filled with guilty doubt—of course she was being reactive.
But no, she was sure. That woman was carrying her husband’s child. The temptation to go to her and introduce herself and ask her how she had known Chad was strong, but just then Jessie, her oldest daughter, touched her arm and said, “We’re supposed to be over here.” And Anna had nodded and followed her.
Anna and Chad had been going through one of their serious rough patches. She thought it was about the fourth noteworthy one in thirty-five years and she had insisted on counseling. Of course she had. Chad was a psychologist. He counseled people for a living and he knew all the tricks. According to what she knew from friends and what Chad had told her, that number of marital disruptions over several decades barely surpassed interesting. Few marriages even lasted that long these days. She knew only too well that marriage was a rocky road and it had nothing to do with how smart or simple, how successful or religious, you were. She also knew, from personal experience, that just because you were an expert in relationships, it didn’t necessarily give you an edge on keeping your own marriage healthy. So, they’d been struggling, had been seeing a counselor, dealing with Chad’s overall discontent, something vague and filmy. He wasn’t happy. He was feeling unfulfilled. He was bored and his life lacked excitement. He was seeking something more.
Fitting, then, that he died while white-water rafting. Bet that was exciting.
It was as if Chad was having a giant midlife crisis, a tad late for a man of sixty-two. He kept asking, Is this all there is? Ninety-eight percent of the population would give an arm and a leg to live as they did. But since Chad was often melodramatic and moody, she let it slide. Is this all there is, indeed? Perfect health, great and successful work, good retirement savings, strong family ties, quality friends? Yes, Chad, this is it. Why isn’t that enough for you?
As Anna had come to realize, this is what a man does when he’s attracted to another woman. Act like you’ve been suffering. Suddenly find your life and your marriage are severely lacking. It’s not your fault and you must have been unhappy for years and years, so the obvious solution is to move on. Get yourself something new. Wait, correction—your wife must have failed somehow and now you should find another, better woman. God forbid you honor your commitment and stay with a woman you find slightly less than perfect! The number of times in her life she had heard it said of the unfaithful husband that there must have been something missing at home; it all made her want to throw up. And now she was here to honor the great man’s wonderful life.
During the service, Anna turned around a couple of times to see if the pregnant woman was emotional. Remarkably, she didn’t seem to be. She appeared serene. Maybe that wasn’t Chad’s baby swelling her middle. Maybe she was a client? The assistant with her...what was her name? She was older and kept leaning toward the younger woman’s ear, whispering.
“What are you looking at?” Jessie asked. “Don’t stare!”
“Sorry. You’re right. I’m just so tired.”
Tired from spending days putting together a video montage from old photos for Chad’s celebration of life, making funeral arrangements, selecting an urn for his ashes, making phone calls, choosing a dress, hiring a caterer, so many details. And on top of all that, not sleeping. But she’d done it, compiled their memories, the very best ones, and did what she did best: she made him look like a god. Like the perfect husband and father. Which he was not, but let’s not speak ill of the dead.
Unless his pregnant girlfriend came to the funeral. That was a good enough reason.
A firm hand pressed down on her shoulder and she turned to look up into the dark eyes of Joe, her friend for over thirty years. Chad’s friend first, then their friend, then couple friends, until Joe and Arlene divorced. Never just her friend, though she’d always loved him as much as Chad had. He was a great guy. She hugged him, holding on extra long. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m okay,” she said, longing to talk with him for an hour or six. “This is more grueling than it looks. Emotionally taxing.”
“I can imagine.”
Just then all of her children surrounded them. Joe hugged Jessie, who, at thirty-one, was a beautiful woman; then twenty-eight-year-old Mike, who was the image of his handsome father. Joe then turned to lovely Bess, short for Elizabeth, the baby at twenty-four. He didn’t hug Bess because she didn’t like being touched without warning. After a moment passed, Bess opened her arms to him and everyone nearby visibly relaxed.
There was a little small talk—sorry for your loss, call on me for anything, if there’s any way I can help, if there’s anything you need—all that sort of thing. For Joe these were not empty offers. Anna knew he would deliver if needed.
Chad had been widely loved and why not? He was great fun, smart, funny, had a tongue smooth as silk and always knew the right thing to say. Anna was equally well loved and respected. As a couple they were popular and often envied—they were attractive, successful, entertaining and stable. In fact, if their circle of friends had any idea what shit they’d been going through lately, they’d be shocked. But they were careful to keep their issues to themselves.
Joe was one of the few men who was on par with Chad personality wise, equally successful. He was a devoted friend. Chad had gone to high school with Joe; they’d played ball together and stayed friends through college, though their paths had diverged. Chad taught and then got his master’s in counseling followed by a PhD; Joe got his PhD and taught history and some theology at Stanford. The men only saw each other a few times a year but both always said it was as if no time had passed. They could still laugh like boys. Anna saw Joe less often than Chad did but with her the feeling was the same.