“Exactly! But then a bunch of his buddies all had kids at once and suddenly his biological clock started beeping, and when I said that he had always known kids were not my thing, he started insisting that then we should get a dog, because that would at least be a compromise.”
“Wow, that must have been hard.” I know Lynne—she has never wanted kids, not ever, and she has never been shy about it. I’ve always really respected her for that. She always said that she was in the Oprah mode, that she thought she couldn’t be the woman she wants to be and the mother children deserve at the same time, and that she would focus on being a great auntie and godmother when the opportunities arose. “Do you think he was lying when you met? Saying what he thought you wanted to hear and figured you’d change your mind?”
“I dunno. He said that when we met he wasn’t in that headspace, but that something changed. Tried to tell me that it was just because we were so great together and he loved me so much that it made him think we should be parents.”
“Well, that is kind of sweet.”
“That is kind of bullshit manipulation. And when I said that wasn’t the arrangement and I hadn’t changed my mind, it was the beginning of the end. Suddenly nothing I did or said was good or right, and every other word out of his mouth was a thinly veiled dig about my being selfish and inflexible.”
I don’t really say anything, since I also think Lynne can sometimes be kind of selfish and inflexible about some things. But she does not hide who she is, so if her ex married her, he should have known who she was, what she believed, how she wanted her life to be.
“And then he was shocked when I wasn’t so keen on sex.”
“Wait, you stopped sleeping with him?”
“Well, not entirely, but you know, we were busy and not really connecting, and I started to feel like he was disappointed in bed because it wasn’t about making babies, you know? Like he was just scratching an itch, because if it wasn’t going to have a higher purpose, there was no need to really be together.” Lynne sounds hurt and I don’t blame her. After all, she can’t be held responsible for not changing her mind about something as fundamental as having children, just because her ex did a switcheroo on her.
Her tone changes, and there is a vulnerability that I’ve rarely heard in her voice. “I wasn’t punishing him, you know? I kept trying, made jokes about how my body would always be slammin’ with no stretch marks, tried to get busy in unusual places, be all spontaneous, but he wasn’t really into it. Just turned into once a week or so, rolling over in the dark, not really being with me, just sort of going through the motions. Made me feel like I could be just anyone. It hadn’t ever been like that, you know, we could always connect in bed . . . he was amazing—we were amazing together. Until we weren’t.”
“Wow. I’m so sorry. That is just awful.”
“Yeah. I thought he would get over it, but he just threw himself into work and then he got a job offer in a different city and expected I would just pick up and move with him. He tried to say it would be a fresh start for us, but I said I would have to seriously think about it and while I was thinking he accepted the job and essentially said that he was moving and I was welcome to come with him if I wanted. I didn’t want.”
“That is so passive-aggressive.”
“No, child, that is aggressive-aggressive. It wasn’t even more money!”
This last part prickles a bit. After all, the focus here is that her husband was making very important life decisions without her. But she just kind of implied that it would have been more tolerable if there were bigger dollar signs involved. But Lynne is my friend, and at the end of the day, this man really hurt her, so I decide to shrug it off.
“Well, then, clearly he was not the right guy for you!”
“Nope!” she says, reaching her glass out to me for a toast. “Was then and will always be Mr. So-Very-Wrong!”
There is a yip from the crate and Lynne goes to get her pup, still a bit sleepy and back to sweetness mode. She coos and cradles him, kissing the top of his head and calling him a good boy and a sweet little man, and for a second I can kind of see where her ex might have thought she’d be a good mother. For all her hard exterior, there is a soft creamy center to Lynne.
“I’ll walk you out and take this guy for a long stroll,” she says, snapping on his leash. “Thanks for the save.”
“Of course. He’s adorable, and once he’s trained, he’ll be the love of your life, I promise. We’ll have a play date with Simca maybe this weekend, okay? She’ll help whip him into shape.”
“Sounds good.”
We head out, the pup prancing proudly in between us, and I hope that Lynne takes his training seriously, because if she doesn’t, she’ll be living with the enemy for the next twelve to fifteen years.
? ? ?
Thank you, lovey, this is perfect,” Aunt Claire says, taking a sip of the Boulevardier I have poured her.
My mom comes into the living room with a tray of cheese and crackers. “Claire, put something in your stomach before you end up schickered,” she says. Claire is famous for drinking without eating and getting loopy.
Claire snags a chunk of cheddar and two crackers, making a little sandwich. I pop a square of Swiss into my mouth as my mom settles into the couch next to Claire and reaches for an olive. I take a sip of my own Boulevardier; my mom is sticking to wine.
“So, are we doing Jewish Christmas this year?” Aunt Claire asks. The three of us usually go to a movie double feature and then out for Chinese food on Christmas Day.
“Can we do Jewish Christmas Eve instead? I’m supposed to help Teresa with her Christmas Day celebration, and I’m dropping off some dishes for Glenn to bring to his brother’s big potluck.”
“Of course! That is so sweet of you to give Teresa a hand, and that will be fun to have a big traditional Italian Christmas Day,” my mom says. “Tell Glenn we send our love, and we’re looking forward to seeing him next week.” Mom and Claire are taking Glenn to a bowling event for one of their charities.
“Will do. I’m sure Teresa would love for the two of you to join, if you want.”
“Thank you, but no. The two of us will find something fun to binge on Netflix,” Claire says, answering deftly for both of them. My mom and dad and I used to do Christmas Eve and Day with Claire and Buddy, always something quiet and fun and intimate. I know both of them miss it, and even after all this time I think the idea of doing anything big or overly celebratory would feel too weird.
“Well, your choice. If you change your mind, lemme know.”