However, to my continued surprise, there had been little silver linings to the early starts. Walking in the pure, new light, noticing tiny, wonderful things like the glimmering drops of dew on the grass, the smell of fresh crisp air undisturbed by traffic fumes and cigarettes and stale perfume. The birds singing their morning chorus. It all helped. It made me feel small in the universe. Made my problems insignificant in the great scheme of things, if only for a moment. I could forget, just for a little while. I could feel at peace.
I'd spent the weekend fretting that Lucas would try to talk to me, to tell me he wanted to stop trying for a baby, but to my immense relief he hadn't broached the subject. Now, as Monday morning dawned, already hot and bright, I hoped that he'd been speaking in haste. Bonnie had caught him at a bad time, he'd been understandably sad, grieving another loss I had refused to include him in. It was no wonder he'd had a moment of doubt about pushing forward, carrying on. I didn't believe he would insist we stopped. Not when he knew how much it meant. To both of us.
As I approached the university, one of the first to be milling around so early in the day, I felt myself break into a smile. It would all be okay. It had to be. The old, beautiful building always made me feel calmer, and I loved stepping onto the grounds, wondering what the day held in store for me. I had never intended to teach, never intended to end up in this same old building where I'd discovered my passion for anthropology all those years back. Where I had met and fallen in love with Lucas. But, I reflected, life had a way of sending us in directions we never expected to go. For me, my dream had been to travel. To live amongst the tribes I'd researched. To be a real, intrepid, cultural anthropologist. I had wanted to completely submerge myself in another world, another culture, to watch how the people interacted, how they raised their children, see who they answered to, what they valued. I had wanted to know them on a deep level, to know what they cared about, not just read about it all on a piece of lifeless paper.
I could still pull up that memory of my very first field trip not long after I had started at uni. The smell of the hot, dusty earth. The musical tones of a foreign tongue. The feeling of absolute rightness that this was what I was meant to do. This was my path. Tanzania had changed everything for me. But it wasn't to be. My mother had been too unwell for me to continue travelling so far afield. And then, she was gone, and it didn't seem right to walk away and leave my siblings to pick up the pieces. So I had shelved that aspiration. Put it in a box and created a new one. And though it had never been my first choice, I had come to realise it wasn't second best.
I had found I enjoyed talking about anthropology just as much as I enjoyed being amongst the tribes people. It was utterly stimulating and I was fulfilled in my work. I loved my students, fed off their energy, their passion and zest. It was affirming to connect with other people, young, unjaded minds who loved the topic as much as I did. So in the end, giving up the dream to travel didn't feel like too great a sacrifice to bear. I had moved forward, making the choice to revel in my students and their success. I would adapt. And after that first brush with pregnancy, the plan had shifted to include motherhood. Something that would be far more suited to the life of a professor than an explorer. The two went together in my mind so beautifully, I had known it was right. It was what I was meant for. It was a good dream. But so far, a huge chunk of the puzzle had not slotted into place.
As I left the already sultry air of the outside world and let myself into my office, my phone rang softly in my bag. Lucas, I thought before I had even glanced at the display. He would be waking up now, wondering where I was, why I had hurried off to work so soon. Again. He knew I was avoiding him. I could see the pain in his eyes every time I looked his way.
For a second, I considered cancelling the call, but then my thumb was swiping across the screen and I was lifting it to my ear. I wanted to hear his deep soothing tones. I wanted to tell him to please stop worrying, it would be okay, I would make it better... Somehow.
“Morning sweetie,” I said, plopping my bag down on my desk and sinking into my squashy leather chair. I loved this chair, it made me feel so much more grown up than I knew I really was. It looked like a chair someone who had their shit together would own. A professional's chair.
“Where are you?” came his croaky voice. He'd obviously not had coffee yet.
“At work. Lots to do today.”
“At this time? Couldn't you sleep?”
“Do I ever?” I joked, my tone light, trying to keep him away from the serious stuff. “What about you, got a busy day ahead?”
“Think so... I seem to remember Sue telling me that Mrs. Rodriguez is coming in with Snickers again.”
“Oh no!” I laughed. Sue was Lucas's receptionist, and Snickers was a cantankerous old cat with a special hatred for the vet. Unfortunately for Lucas, he held that title. After his last appointment to remove a deeply embedded thorn from between the pads of Snickers' toes, Lucas had come away with four deep claw marks down the inside of his arm, and a bite mark on his hand which had taken two weeks to heal. Lucas never seemed to lose his sense of humour with the animals though. He was unendingly patient, and always forgave them, even crotchety old Snickers.
“Did I tell you about the box of baby hedgehogs we had in yesterday?” he laughed, as if on cue.
“No, tell me,” I smiled, picturing his rumpled bed hair as he spoke.
“Those little creatures are faster than they look – and did you know they can climb? We had a challenge keeping track of them all!”
I laughed, picturing the scene. Though a big, intimidating man to look at, Lucas was surprisingly soft and tender when it came to animals. He often had an amusing story about a rabbit on the loose or a cat with an attitude to regale me with. I'd noticed, though I never mentioned it, that he kept the sadder stories to himself. He must have to do some horrible things as a vet. Say goodbye, and watch as people lost their beloved pets. Make some tough decisions. Fight battles that couldn't be won. But Lucas never shared any of that side of his work with me. I knew he was protecting me, sure that I couldn't handle any more tears in my week, and I was grateful. I was also racked with even more guilt at not supporting him emotionally, as a wife should.
“Anyway, Rox...” he said suddenly, his voice no longer cheery, but firm and serious now. “Tonight... we, ah... we need to sit down. To talk.”
A lump wedged itself in my throat as my fingers clenched tightly to the phone. “About what?” I whispered.
“Let's just wait till tonight, yeah? Come straight home. Okay Roxy?” I could hear the nerves in his voice. He meant it. We would be talking, whether I wanted to or not. I wasn't ready. What if he said the worst? That he wanted to stop trying? Or even that he didn't want to be with me anymore? That he couldn't stand my failings? No, Lucas wouldn't say that. He wouldn't want to hurt me. But...what if? My mind spun with all the dreadful possibilities. Why did he have to call now to tell me? Why not wait until I got home, spring it on me then? Now I had to endure a full day of fear, not knowing what he was going to say. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes and I knew I had to get off the phone before I fell apart. I couldn't fall apart, it wasn't fair.
“Okay,” I managed to choke out. “I have to go.” I cut off the phone and stared into nothingness, numb with fear, heavy tears already weaving silent streams through my make-up.
Chapter Five