She stiffens, and pulls away from me. ‘I was supportive,’ she snaps, and when she continues speaking again, her voice is loud and her words are short, ‘Do you know how many women would tolerate…’
‘Molly,’ I interrupt her very gently, trying to de-escalate. ‘I know that was idiotic and close-minded of me. In hindsight, I can’t believe how stupid I was, but from where I stood then, that was all I could see. I am simply telling you what I was thinking at the time. I had a blind spot. And maybe you did too.’
She stares at me, frowning, and then sighs and nods. ‘I can see that.’
‘We’re talking now. We’re opening up now. That’s what’s going to make the difference this time.’
She nods, and then she says, a little sheepishly, ‘I’m starving, and it’s making me cranky.’
Our gazes connect, and we both smile.
‘Okay, let’s get some lunch. Why don’t you go get changed while I finish up here?’
She walks through to our bedroom and I pick up the magazine again. I open it up to the article I was reading and sink back into a memory of coming home. I was always thinking I’d take a few months off at some point to reconnect with her, but then there was always something more pressing to do – some bigger story to chase, some greater opportunity in the field that I just couldn’t pass up. I hadn’t realised it at the time, the faith I had in our love had actually left me blind to its fragility. I thought no matter the distance that grew between us, we’d always come back to one another when I did find my way home. That seems so selfish now that I want to go back in time and punch myself in the face. I sigh and put the magazine down.
Every time I went home and took her back into my arms, it felt like I’d never been away – but of course, I had been away, and she’d been carrying on with her life without me.
37
Molly – February 2014
Leo came home on Valentine’s Day after almost three months away – our longest separation ever. He was exhausted from the trip and had lost far too much weight during his travels, but the minute I saw him, I fell every bit back in love with him. The months of anxiety and fear and even anger disappeared. The second his arms were around me, I thought I had forgiven his every transgression.
I had taken the day off work and he was exhausted and jet-lagged, so we stayed in bed for a full day. I lay on Leo’s chest while he slept and I listened to the sound of his heart beating against my ear, and I felt the hairs on his chest tickle my face when I moved. I stayed in that position until my neck had cramped and my joints were sore. I was afraid to take my arms away from around him, as if I was somehow anchoring him to me and that was all that was keeping him safe.
The love I had for Leo was still the most remarkable thing that I had ever experienced. I marvelled that it had somehow continued despite the separations and the fear. I hoped that our love might create a child that would manifest what was between us in a miraculously physical form. As I lay there that day, I could almost feel the movement of my imaginary baby beneath my heart. I could see it in my mind as if I already knew it. I could imagine Leo’s joy at returning home to us and his pain at leaving us. I could see the ratio of away to home shifting and gradually reversing. Perhaps I wasn’t enough to compete with his job, but surely our child would be?
A baby was the way forward for us, I was absolutely sure of it. I knew I had to pick my moment to raise the subject, but I also had a sneaking suspicion that Leo would be flying out quickly and I needed to talk to him about it in person. The other complicating factor was that I was more excited than I’d been about anything in quite a long time – apparently far too excited to plan my request. We made love on the morning of his second day in Sydney. My heart rate was only just returning to normal in the blissful moments of peace immediately after when I blurted it out.
‘I want to have a baby.’
‘What?’ Leo jumped a little. ‘What did you say?’
‘I think I’m ready, Leo. I’m not getting any younger, and…’
‘Molly…’
‘Please, at least think about it.’
‘Honey, this is really not the time,’ he said gently. ‘This year is going to be insane for me – you know that.’
‘What about for me, Leo? What’s this year going to look like for me?’ If I’d planned it better, I would have figured out a way to keep the whiny, self-pitying tone out of my voice at least until we were further into the conversation. But I hadn’t planned it better. I was not much more than a clucky, desperate, lonely mess.
Leo shuffled away from me in the bed and sat up, sliding his legs over the edge and turning his back towards me. ‘I can’t deal with this now.’