Anne argued with him for hours; blaming him for never being there for her, and for causing the miscarriage. She accused him of sleeping around and having an affair. He never denied it. Never even pretended it was false. She’d looked at him self-righteously saying, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
“What was I supposed to do Anne? You haven’t wanted to be intimate with me for years. I’m not a monk. I waited for you, but you just never came around. At first I thought, well, with the kids and the house, maybe she’s feeling overwhelmed. I tried to help, but to no avail. Everything I did was wrong.” The pain was evident in his voice.
“All you ever wanted from me was sex and someone to raise the kids. You stopped talking to me. You only held me when you wanted sex.” Anne had shot back.
“That’s not true Anne,” he’d said, angrily. “Ever since you lost the baby you didn’t want anything to do with me. I’m sorry you miscarried, honest I am, but we didn’t do anything wrong. It just wasn’t meant to be. We can’t go back and re-do it. The baby is gone. I’m here, but you don’t care.” Franklin’s shoulders were hunched in defeat as he leaned against the doorframe dejectedly.
Anne had looked at Franklin with pure hatred. “We shouldn’t have had sex. We both knew it wasn’t healthy for me or the baby, but
you
insisted. You just couldn’t go without. You killed our child,” Anne had screeched at him. It was true. He’d pushed her to have sex. The doctor recommended they abstain until the baby was born, but she was almost five months along and had four healthy children. She hadn’t even realized at first, that she was losing the baby, or perhaps they could have stopped the labor. She went to sleep, unaware of the trauma they’d caused. Her back hurt immensely, but she knew pregnancy would cause discomfort. She chased kids all day long, and while Franklin had been gentle, it was still strenuous. Hours later she woke screaming as the first hard pains took over.
Anne stood, dumping her coffee in the sink. She didn’t want to remember this. The precious child she’d lost. It wasn’t that this baby had been more important than her other children, certainly not. But this baby was just as special, and she would always feel guilty about his loss. The kids hadn’t known she was pregnant. She and Franklin were preparing to tell them, but she’d had a few complications and they were waiting just a little longer. Franklin woke a neighbor to sit with the sleeping children while he rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late. Anne knew it was too late when she saw the blood on the mattress. Franklin stayed with her throughout the night, holding her. They told the kids she’d gotten sick and had to stay in the hospital a few days. When she came home from the hospital, no baby, she’d fallen into a deep depression. Few things were able to make her smile and the kids spent most of their free time at friends’ homes because she just wasn’t there for them.
Anne took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do any good to think about these things more. They’d been married just over eleven years when she lost the baby. She slept on the couch, unable to sleep in the bed where, she imagined, she’d help murder her child. The blood was gone. Franklin had managed to get it out before she came home from the hospital; but she could still see the stains in her mind. Before their twelfth anniversary he bought the new bedroom set she slept on now. It was lovely. It was made of a sturdy, dark wood, and had four-posters; it was heavier than imaginable. She’d loved it. For a time things had improved. They tried to have another baby, but Anne couldn’t get pregnant. The doctor believed it was psychosomatic. She couldn’t really argue. She didn’t believe she should be allowed to get pregnant again after being so careless. They struggled to keep the love alive, but deep down she blamed Franklin, and to a lesser extent, sex for the loss.
She tried to remain a dutiful wife. To be there and see to his needs. She cleaned his house, raised his kids, cooked his meals, and washed his laundry, but she couldn’t respond to his touch. Sex became evil and dangerous; it began to embody everything she hated. Franklin’s needs, his desires, transformed from something wonderful for her to share with him, into something dark and sinister. She suffered silently for a time, but Franklin knew. He detected her reluctance to share a bed with him, and he started to withdraw from her. Within seven years, he was going to someone else for the physical solace he could no longer find at home. At first Anne had been relieved. She didn’t have to feel guilty for denying him any longer. It was too late when she realized that he was gone. He’d found someone new; who could provide for him both physically and emotionally all those things she withheld.
Oh, they tried couples therapy, but he didn’t like the therapists she picked, and she didn’t like the therapists he picked. They even tried individual therapy, which Anne believed might have helped if they’d tried it sooner, but as always, it was too late. She knew it was over, but she’d never imagined he’d actually divorce her. She thought they’d continue in misery, waiting perhaps until Trisha left home and then either start sleeping in separate rooms, or separate and eventually get a divorce; but they hadn’t been able to stick it out any longer. Twelve years of silent pain and hidden agonies had torn them completely apart, and no amount of talking or yelling would put them back together.
Anne jumped when she heard the door to Jason’s room open. She was still standing at the sink, her coffee cup in hand. She watched Jason as he came down the stairs, so like his father. Maybe it was because the memory of the lost baby was so recent, but her anger at Jason ebbed. “Good morning,” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. He was home, and he would spend some time with her this morning without that wretched girl.
“Morning,” Jason said, looking at her curiously. She seemed to have deflated since last night, her anger diminished.
“How’d you sleep?” Anne asked, trying to make small talk. She knew how he’d slept; with that whore.
“Alright I guess. I’m used to my bed at home. It’s always hard to switch,” Jason answered reservedly. He didn’t want her to think that he had forgotten how rude she was last night, but he didn’t want to be mean either. “You?”
“Okay. Did you want some coffee? I made a pot at about five.” Anne started to hand Jason a cup.
“Thanks, but I don’t drink coffee, Mom.” Jason watched his mother warily. There was always calm before the storm.
“Oh. Well there’s orange juice in the fridge, and milk, and water.” Anne started to open the refrigerator door but Jason’s voice stopped her.
“Mom, I’m not thirsty, really.” Jason watched her for a minute. She wasn’t acting normal, but then again it was hard to say what was normal anymore. She’d changed so much in the last six years. He almost wished he was ten years old again, and his real mother was back. She’d had her moments, and it seemed like there was a solid year or two when she hadn’t been quite as perfect, but overall she’d been a good mother to the four of them.
“So, is Alexia awake?” Anne asked, trying to get Jason talking. Maybe if she talked about Alexia he would open up about his relationship with her.
“No, I let her sleep. She hasn’t been feeling well. Traveling gets to her.” Jason wasn’t sure why his mother kept calling Alex by her given name, but it was irritating, as if she couldn’t even accept her nickname. “Mom, she goes by Alex,” he said slowly. He didn’t want to fight with her again, but he didn’t want to just let her have her own way either. Sometimes it seemed like he had to fight every small battle that arose to prevent a war.
“I just have a hard time picturing a girl as an Alex, Jason.” Anne opened the fridge. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“I’m not extremely hungry Mom. I’m not much of a breakfast person anymore.” Jason tried to ignore her jibe about Alex being a male name. She was behaving herself for the most part. In some relief, he heard Alex get up and go into the bathroom. At least they could leave soon. “I thought I’d take Alex to the mall, and maybe the museum,” Jason told her offhandedly.
“Oh. Well that’s nice.” Anne wasn’t sure what to say. She thought Jason was coming home to visit
her
, not to take that tramp for a tour of the city; like she would appreciate the museum anyway.
“I thought you might join us in town for lunch, though.” Jason thought about things on the drive back last night, and it made more sense to tell his mother the news about his engagement in a public place. She wouldn’t be as likely to make a scene or anything. He didn’t want to fight with her, and he certainly didn’t want to subject Alex to her theatrics.
“Oh. Well, I hadn’t planned on driving into town today, but I guess I can meet you for lunch. What did you have in mind?” Anne didn’t really want to spend more time with Alexia, but she knew Jason would take it as an affront if she refused his invitation to eat with them. He’d been so sensitive to anything she said about Alexia last night, Anne didn’t dare deny him.
“Whatever really, we’re not usually picky eaters. Big Boy, Country Kitchen, Applebee’s; it doesn’t matter to us.” Jason tried to be accommodating as he listed off the restaurants he knew were in town.
“Well, I’ve never been to Applebee’s.”
“Okay, then we’ll take you to Applebee’s,” Jason said firmly. “What time do you want to meet there?”
“I was just going to ask you that. I don’t work today, so it’s really up to you two. I don’t have anything planned.”
“Well, when you’re ready to come into town you can call my cell, or I can call you when we start getting hungry. Either way,” Jason looked up as Alex came down the stairs, giving her his full attention. She wore jeans and a loose sweater, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Good morning,” he said, smiling.
“Good morning.” Alex looked from Jason to his mother, not entirely sure what to say. She stepped into the kitchen and stood at Jason’s side, quietly.
“Are you hungry? I can make some pancakes,” Anne offered half-heartedly, watching Alexia move close to Jason with some disdain. Anne noted the casual manner in which the girl was dressed, taking a quick perusal of her attire. Her clothing was nothing extraordinary, but rather plain and simple.
Teachers can dress like that now? No wonder the quality of education was dropping,
Anne thought. She didn’t really want to cook for the little tramp, but Jason was really touchy; she had to be polite and offer.
“Oh, I doubt I could finish any,” Alex answered quickly. Even the sound of food made her queasy. “Thank you, though.” Alex’s voice was full of sincerity. She knew she wouldn’t be able to eat, but it had been kind of Anne to offer to make her anything, and she didn’t want Anne to think she wasn’t appreciative of the gesture.
Anne, on the other hand, was angry. She felt she had every right to take their plates last night, but just because she didn’t like the girl didn’t mean she’d make her go hungry. “I wouldn’t take your plate…” Anne started, but Jason interrupted her.
“Mom, I told you, traveling makes Alex sick. She just meant that food wouldn’t agree with her this morning.” Jason had seen the look in his mother’s eyes. He knew Alex hadn’t meant anything by her comment, she’d just been honest, but his mother had taken it the wrong way, as usual. She deserved to be hackled about her behavior in Jason’s opinion, but he was certain that Alex wasn’t trying to be mean or vindictive. “Do you want to get going?” he asked Alex.
“Sure.” Alex was ready to leave. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke her. Anne was glaring at her as though she could cause great agony with her stare. Suddenly, Alex wasn’t at all sure if they should even take the chance of telling his mother about the engagement. Maybe Jason had been right when he said they should just send her an invitation. The woman was downright rude and spiteful.
“Okay, well we’ll see you around lunchtime at Applebee’s, Mom.” Jason said, leading Alex out to the car, his mother following them to the front door. Jason ran back in the house under the guise that he’d forgotten his wallet and some traveling snacks. Quickly, he grabbed their luggage and ran back out without saying a word to his mother, who sat in the living room staring blankly at the television. He was hoping she didn’t notice he’d taken the luggage, but he doubted anything went past her.
Jason told Alex his plan for breaking the news to his mother in public. Alex wasn’t sure a restaurant would be the best place to tell her, but he had a point about it being somewhere public, where Anne wasn’t as likely to make a scene. “It still seems a little backhanded,” she said after a few minutes, “but I guess it’s the easiest, and possibly the best, way.”
“I think so,” Jason answered. “Come on, I want to show you something.” Jason took Alex to the museum, and then they went to his old high school to see a couple of his old teachers. Alex enjoyed meeting the pleasant, up-beat people Jason knew. She even met some of his high school buddies while they wandered around town. By noon they were starting to get fairly hungry so Jason called his mother. “Hey, Mom. We’re almost ready to eat if you are,” he said when she answered.
“Oh, I forgot. You can go ahead and eat without me if you want,” Anne offered, trying to get out of spending time near Alexia. “I wouldn’t want you to go hungry because of me.”
“Mom, we’ll be at Applebee’s waiting to order until you get there,” Jason said irritably. He didn’t give her a chance to argue before saying ‘goodbye’ and hanging up the phone. “Well, she’s coming. We might as well go prepare.” Jason and Alex walked back to the car, tense and uncomfortable. Lunch would almost certainly be even worse than dinner last night. Jason looked at Alex, her face pale, her hands moving around nervously. “It’ll be okay,” he told her before unlocking her door. She nodded and climbed in the car. Jason stood outside the car for a moment taking deep breaths. He knew without a doubt that his mother would not be happy with their announcement; he was even certain she would have some rather rude and disparaging comments to make. Jason rubbed his eyes. There were times when he hated his mother.