by Zeia Jameson
It’s taken me about two hours but I’m finally ready. I haven’t gotten dressed yet but everything else is done. Hair, makeup, nails—the works. Before I figure out what to wear, I head out to the living room to ask Jeremy where he wants to go tonight so I can choose something appropriate to put on. I’ll probably just end up wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but if he wants to do something fancier, I wouldn’t be completely opposed to wearing a dress and heels. I am just in that kind of mood right now and I know what kind of mood a dress and heels would put Jeremy into.
As I exit the bedroom, I peer out into the living area and see Jeremy sitting at the breakfast table with Amelia in her high chair. By the orange ring of food around her lips, I’d say she’s eating carrots. She’s giggling and waving her hands in the air, her eyes fixed on Jeremy. It appears as though they are having a great time together. Except when I look to Jeremy, I notice he’s got his cell phone pinched between his shoulder and his ear. He’s not speaking but listening, either to someone talking or to a voicemail. He’s trying to manage the phone and spoon food into Amelia’s mouth at the same time. I walk over and take the food from Jeremy’s hand and take over. Jeremy looks up at me and his facial expression is not a positive one. He stands from the chair and walks away before he begins speaking. “Are you sure? I don’t even want to entertain this idea if we don’t have a shot. There is no point wasting time on this if there’s not a chance.”
He pauses and listens again. Finally, he lets out a loud huff and says “Fine. Yeah, yeah. You are right. This could be a big deal. I know. I know! Ok. I will see you there.” He hangs up his phone and tosses it on the couch. And he just stands there looking at the floor.
He won’t look at me.
I give Amelia another spoonful of carrot and watch Jeremy for a second, trying to read his stance and his facial expression. I’m waiting for him to say something but it’s almost as if he can’t blurt out what’s in his head.
“Jeremy? What was that about, babe? Is everything ok?”
He continues to stand there, looking at the floor and saying nothing.
“Jeremy?” I ask again in a normal tone. When he still doesn’t respond, I say his name again. Not yelling, but in a stern voice. “Jeremy!”
He looks up at me as if he’s been pulled out of a trance. His eyes immediately express worry. I’m beginning to get nervous about what that phone call was about.
“What is it, Jeremy? You are freaking me out a little.”
He hesitates but finally says, “I have to go to Chicago.”
Jeremy’s been out of town three times since Amelia was born. The first two times, he asked me to come along. The first time, Amelia was less than two months old. There was no way I was leaving her with someone to spend multiple days, miles away from her. Plus there was the nursing issue. No one would be able to feed her but me. So Jeremy suggested that we take her with us, and I explained my anxiety about having a fussy child on a plane, or in a hotel room. Plus there was the nursing issue again. I didn’t want to have to nurse in front of people on a plane.
So, Jeremy went without me. The second trip, he invited me again. Amelia was four months old. He said that he was comfortable leaving Amelia with Rosalie for four days. I wasn’t nursing her anymore, so that issue was dead. But I still had reservations about leaving Amelia for that long and being so far away. What if something happened?
So, Jeremy went without me again. The third trip was three weeks ago and Jeremy didn’t even bring up the subject of me coming along. He just went without me. But I think if he’d asked me that time, I might have said yes. I desperately needed a break. And I needed Jeremy all to myself without having “tired mommy brain syndrome”—it was a phrase that had been coined in a book I read about handling motherhood in the first year.
“Chicago? What for?”
“That was Marcus on the phone.”
Marcus. Yes, Marcus. As in homeless Marcus that Jeremy met at the park after my meltdown about the bar being sold. The man who also helped me find the job at Joe’s when I didn’t have a single clue about the city.
After Jeremy opened his own business, I had gone to visit Marcus at some point and when I mentioned it to Jeremy, he asked me if I thought Marcus might be interested in a job. He could start out doing odds and ends, making enough money to get on his feet. And, if it worked out, he’d consider perhaps giving him something more permanent or teaching him something about any aspect of general contracting that Marcus might want to learn more about specifically. Jeremy said that if I trusted Marcus, then he trusted Marcus, and he could always use some extra, trustworthy helping hands on sites.
So I proposed the idea to Marcus one afternoon. I told him no pressure. If he didn’t want to, no judgment. But I did remind him of how he helped me and I gave him my “look at me now” speech. I told him he could change if he wanted to. If he was finally tired of feeling sorry for himself. I told him he could be happy again one day. He just had to try.
Marcus accepted Jeremy’s offer and started out working at sites, setting out and packing up tools for the crews, doing coffee and lunch runs, performing basic, menial tasks. Once Jeremy realized that Marcus was a pretty hard worker and fast learner, and that he actually seemed to be enjoying working with others, Jeremy asked Marcus if he thought he’d ever want to be a site supervisor. Marcus liked the idea of being a site supervisor so Jeremy set him up to follow another site supervisor for a few months to learn the ropes. Once he did, Jeremy made Marcus a site supervisor and the rest is history. Jeremy has had nothing but great things to say about Marcus and his work ethic.
When we actually get to talk to each other, that is.
“What did Marcus have to say?”
Jeremy runs a hand over his face. “Marcus has connections with an architect in Chicago that is looking for a team to renovate a loft apartment complex in the middle of downtown. It’s a multi-million dollar project and Marcus thinks if he and I go to Chicago to meet with the architect, we have a good chance of getting the contract. This could be huge. If we got this job, and it went well, we could potentially expand the business to Chicago.”
“Jeremy, that is amazing! I am really excited for you. But why do you look so worried? Are you worried about going to Chicago?”
“We have to leave tonight. Marcus says this guy he wants us to meet only does business on the golf course. We have an 8am tee-time tomorrow. I have to fly out tonight.”
“Tonight! What? Are you serious? You said we were spending the night out together. And now you are just up and leaving to go to Chicago to play golf with some guy who might give you a job? Golf, Jeremy? Really? You don’t even play golf!”
I realize that I’m yelling. I’m yelling in front of Amelia and I immediately stop. The fact that I just yelled at my husband in front of my child makes my stomach turn. I set the bowl of mashed carrots and spoon down on the breakfast table and walk over to the sink. I may vomit. I’m pissed. Livid might be a better word. But I’m also hurt and most importantly humiliated. Jeremy just got done this morning telling me how much he misses me—us. And how he wants to take a break. Now, he wants to jet set off in hopes to expand his business. How is he going to have time for us if he’s going back and forth between two cities?
And I can’t believe that I just yelled at him in front of Amelia. Something I promised myself I’d never do. Something I made Jeremy promise as well. Not that we were the yelling type. But we’d had a few arguments before Amelia was born that had ended with raised voices and door slamming. I didn’t ever want Amelia to see us argue. I wanted her to always know that Jeremy and I loved each other even if we were struggling a little behind the scenes.
But leave it to me to be the first one to break our pact. The pact I came up with in the first place and made Jeremy agree to. The pact that I was certain I’d never waver on.
But I just did and it happened before I could even catch myself. That thought terrifies me.
So many emotions are bubbling intern
ally right now. Fear, anger, guilt, sadness. I want to cry and throw something and kick and scream. But I can’t. I don’t want Jeremy to see me cry and I’m certainly not throwing a juvenile tantrum in front of my baby. I can’t do anything. I’m stuck here, in front of the sink wanting to vomit and I can’t.
Those two words that always seem to find themselves a way into my brain.
I can’t
I can’t
I can’t
I can’t do this. I can’t be a mother to a child and raise her all alone while Jeremy is off wheeling and dealing and making a name for himself.
And suddenly, I’m also jealous. Jeremy gets to go out into the world and make a name for himself while I sit here and be the stay-at-home mommy, unappreciated. I get to watch cartoons about ABCs and read books about big red dogs and curious monkeys. I get to listen to the same toys make the same squeaks and honks over and over again. I get to change dirty diapers and bathe dirty Amelia and listen to cranky Amelia scream and fuss and refuse sleep. I don’t get to talk to adults and make some imprint on the world. That’s Jeremy’s job.
I chose to be a mother. Because I wanted to make Jeremy happy.
He promised me it’d all be ok. And it’s not ok.
He promised me he’d spend every living day making me happy. I’m not happy.
This is that moment. This is the moment that people reach their breaking point. Because their other half made them a promise, a vow, and then they failed to keep it.
I’m gripping the edge of the sink with both of my hands. I notice my knuckles are turning white. I’m furious and I don’t know how to calm down.
I just need to calm down but I don’t know how.
Before I know it, Jeremy is beside me. “Livy? Please. Please don’t be mad. I’m really sorry...”
“Stop,” I say as calmly as I can.
Don’t yell
Don’t yell
Don’t yell
Do not yell in front of your child again.
I look up at Jeremy. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say right now. Nothing.” He doesn’t say another word. I continue, and begin pointing my index finger to the floor. “When we got married you promised that this moment, right now, wouldn’t happen. You promised that you would make me happy. I believed you. You convinced me. We had a wonderful honeymoon and a great couple of months. Then you started your own business and I never see you anymore. Never.”
Don’t yell.
“You’ve worked 12-16 hour days for over two years, Jeremy. You’ve missed holidays. You’ve missed our anniversary and my birthday. And I told you when you missed those things that it didn’t matter. And it didn’t. Until I got pregnant. You promised you would slow down. But you didn’t, Jeremy. You missed sonograms and doctor’s appointments. You missed her first smile and her first clap. You are never here and now it matters. Amelia is going to be a year old soon and you’ve hardly been here to see how fast she’s changing every day. It doesn’t bother me so much really that you are missing out on me, but you are missing out on her. You promised me it would be ok and it’s not ok, Jeremy!”
Don’t yell.
“Do you know what it’s like to be surrounded by nothing but baby all day, every day?” I air quote the word baby. “Baby cartoons. Baby books. Baby toys. Baby food. Baby poop? You have no clue because you are never here. All my mind thinks about is Amelia and everything on Amelia’s level. Do you have any idea when the last time was that I talked to an adult about a conversation that didn’t involve Amelia? No, you don’t. You get to talk to adults all day about everything but Amelia.”
Don’t yell.
I raise my hand slightly, finger still pointing to the floor and point down again, quite forcefully. “And just this morning you told me how much you missed us and how you were going to slow down after the project you are working on. And not twelve hours later, you are telling me that you have to fly to Chicago, to golf and make a bid in order to try to expand your business.” I grit my teeth. I’m getting worked up. Jeremy is staring at me intensely. I need to stop before I say something I don’t mean. I can feel the words making their way up my vocal cords.
Stop talking, Livy. Enough. You’ve made your point.
“How the fuck do you plan on being here with us if you are juggling a business in two cities, Jeremy? You are choosing your job over us. If you really missed us, you’d figure out a way to be home. It’s your goddamn company for crying out loud. You could figure it out. You are choosing your business over us. I’ve tried to be patient and I’ve tried doing all of this by myself. But I’m exhausted.”
I’m not going to yell.
So, instead I guess I’ll cry.
Better crying in front of Jeremy instead of yelling in front of Amelia.
“You made me a promise, Jeremy. And you broke it. You broke it. Just like I told you people do. People make promises and they can’t keep them. And now, what can I do about it, huh?”
Stop talking. Don’t say it.
“Nothing. There is nothing I can do about it. I have a child that I have to raise. And I don’t have a choice anymore. I have to take care of Amelia. I am her mother. I don’t get an opt-out. I don’t get to whoosh of to Chicago and do whatever the fuck I want. Nope. My only option is to be Amelia’s mother. And apparently I’m going to continue to do it alone. You promised me we were in this together but clearly we are not. I thought I meant the world to you. You told me that. Yet, I’m standing here, so angry at you that I could spit nails because you are never here. You keep making promises that you can’t keep. How do I even know I mean anything to you anymore? You told me you’d love me no matter what but how am I supposed to believe you?”
I pause because I can’t control my crying. Jeremy doesn’t say a thing.
“Your actions don’t match your words, Jeremy. You said we’d be happy if we got married. You said it’d be ok becoming parents. But I’m not happy. And it’s not ok. I trusted you and we built this life together, this path that I can’t back out on now.” I point to Amelia who is cooing in her high chair, oblivious to the fury that is five feet away from her. So much fury inside of me that I can’t stop talking. I don’t even know if I’m making any sense at this point. The piece de resistance is coming up. The straw that may break our relationship’s back. Yet, I can’t stop it from coming, no matter how hard I try.
“You’ve left me here to raise our daughter alone. Alone. You are missing every fleeting, precious moment of her life. You have no idea the things you’ve missed out on. And it’s just flying by. You keep saying you’ll slow down, but you are full of shit, Jeremy. One day you are going to turn around and she’s going to be a teenager and you are going to regret your choices. And each day you choose your job over her, I am going to love you a little less, until I don’t have anything left to give you.”
I inhale. Tears are dripping from my face onto my bare feet. I’m sure the makeup that I previously so very meticulously applied is beyond ruined.
“You made me a promise. I trusted you. I wanted you to be right. But right now you are breaking my fucking heart and what am I supposed to do about it? I can’t leave you. I’m not taking Amelia away from you, even though you hardly ever see her anyway. And I’m sure as shit not leaving her, so my only option is to stay here and put on a good face for Amelia all the while really being numb inside because you took my heart and skillfully mended it back together, just to turn around and smash it back into a million pieces.”
And that’s how you rip off a band aid on an old festering wound that just won’t heal.
Jeremy stares at me for a long time. Amelia makes a noise and I look around Jeremy to check on her. Her arms are stretched out, reaching for one of us to pick her up. I move toward her, but before I get past Jeremy, he grabs my arm. I look up at him and his face is contorted in pain. “Leave me? You want to...leave me?”
He’s hurt. He’s scared. And he’s surprised. Now that I’ve stopped talking, I take a moment to
think about what I’ve just said. He genuinely had no clue that I felt this way. For a second I think that I should ease up because I’ve just lashed out at him and he had no idea I had all of this bottled up inside me. But, then, I think, well fuck. How could he NOT know I’d feel that way? Does he not feel guilty for being so absent? My fury resumes. Amelia and I are just accessories. He’ll work and make money and achieve goals and be successful and when he’s done and satisfied, we’ll be here waiting. Like the picture perfect family he always wanted—me, the homemaker wife and Amelia, the dutiful child.
In the back of my brain I have a thought. “No, Livy, Jeremy isn’t like that and you know it.” But the fury in the forefront is feeding fuel into my hateful thoughts and my negativity wins out.
He gets his career and his family. All he ever wanted.
What did I want? To stay single and childless.
Did I get what I wanted? No.
How is this fair?
I stare at him for a long time. Long enough for Amelia to start to get fussy and I’m snapped back to reality. Jeremy squeezes my arm slightly. “Livy? Please answer me. Do you want to leave me?”
I want to say: “No, Jeremy, I don’t want to leave you. I want to spend the happy life together that you promised me.”
But instead I say: “How the fuck can I leave someone who is never here?”
I turn and grab Amelia out of her high chair. “I’m going to give her a bath. You should go pack for your trip. I hear it’s windy in Chicago this time of year. Be sure to take a jacket.” I head to the spare bathroom without looking back. I can’t look at him after what I just said. I may have just ripped Jeremy’s heart out of his chest but I was too much of a coward to see the look on his face after that last sentence.
I am a horrible, evil bitch.
I begin running the bath water and I sit Amelia into the tub. As she kicks and splashes water with her feet, I begin to cry again. I know I told Jeremy that he broke the promise. But deep down I feel like it’s me that let him down. I knew I wasn’t strong enough for a relationship like this—to be a mother. I should have held my ground and just left Jeremy before he convinced me to marry him. He would have been better off without me. Better off with someone who wanted a family and could handle the stressors of being a wife and stay-at-home mom. Someone who had friends and book clubs and play dates. Someone who could entertain herself as well as her kid and not worry that her husband was never there because he was trying to provide for his family.
