Sunset Over Misty Lake

by Margaret Standafer

  Karen shot to her feet. Humiliated and afraid if she spoke she’d not only lose whatever composure she may have left, but also a friend, she snatched her clothes from the chair, wanting only to escape.

  “Karen,” Annie said again. “Please, sit down. I’m sorry I pushed, sorry I upset you.”

  Karen clutched her clothes to her chest. Fast, shaky breaths rattled in her chest. She waited to speak until she felt confident her words would come out at a reasonable volume.

  “No, I’m sorry. You’re doing your job, I’m making it impossible. Really, though, there’s nothing—”

  Without warning, her voice hitched, her throat burned, and her eyes flooded. Horrified, but unable to stop it, Karen began to sob.

  She didn’t know how it happened, but she found herself in Annie’s arms, her tears soaking the shoulder of Annie’s crisp, white lab coat. Common sense and pride told her to pull herself together, to reign herself in. The desperate need to finally share with someone her emotions, her fears, her living nightmare, fought tooth and nail against that common sense and pride, and told her to hold on for dear life.

  She let herself, for another couple minutes, then pulled away and mopped her face with the flimsy exam gown. When Annie didn’t badger her for details or placate her into further embarrassment, just handed her a box of tissues, Karen was grateful.

  “The first few weeks, months, after giving birth are hard. I remember how I felt after my children’s births and based on what I see every day here in the office, it’s only getting harder. It’s normal, to some extent. You know that. If what you’re feeling goes deeper than what you think is normal, then I encourage you to talk to someone. You know I’ll listen and do what I can, but I’m not a therapist.”

  When Karen bristled at the word, Annie merely held up a hand and kept going. “I’m going to ask you to put your personal feelings and preconceptions aside and ask you to look at this as a professional. You’re trained to help people and, when you can’t, to get them the help they need. You know the saying, ‘Physician, heal thyself.’ Instead of scoffing, like we all do when someone who thinks they’re so clever spits that in our faces, take it to heart. Help yourself. Do what you need to do for you, so you can do what you need to do for your children and your husband. Regardless of what you’re feeling, what you’re struggling with, you’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last.”

  Karen stared at the wall rather than meet Annie’s eyes. While she understood doctor-patient confidentiality and while she trusted Annie as both a doctor and a friend, the moment had passed. Like she’d been doing for so long, she smiled through the tears that hadn’t quite dried, assured Annie it really was nothing but exhaustion and stress, and that if it seemed like more, she’d seek out a therapist.

  Annie may not have been convinced, but Karen knew that her long relationship with Annie, in addition to Annie being on a very tight schedule, meant she wouldn’t press further. She’d follow up, of that Karen was certain, but she wouldn’t press.

  “Good. You know you can call me anytime. Now, let’s take a look, then I’ll have you go to the lab for that blood work.”

  Annie listened to Karen’s heartbeat, listened to her lungs, checked her reflexes, and checked to see that everything was healing properly following the delivery.

  “I’ll call you with the results of the blood work,” Annie said as she typed notes into Karen’s chart. She reached into her pocket then handed Karen a card. “She’s good. Dr. Fitzgerald. Think about it.”

  “I will.”

  “The only other advice I can give you is to make some time for yourself. I know it seems as if that’s impossible, but it’s not. You have the luxury of being surrounded by a big family. Let them help. Let some of it go. If your sister-in-law watches the twins and feeds them twenty minutes earlier than you’d have liked, so what? If your mom gives Dylan cookies right before dinner time, it’s not the end of the world. Please, Karen, take care of yourself. As I said, I’ll call you with the test results and, if necessary, we’ll discuss treatment options then, but even if the tests come back normal, I want to see you back here in another six weeks. Routine.”

  Karen couldn’t recall if she’d been back for a check twelve weeks after Dylan but decided it didn’t matter. “Sure.”

  “Be well. It’s the most important thing you can do right now. We’ll talk soon.”

  Annie reached for Karen’s hand and squeezed it before nodding at the lab orders she’d left on the desk and slipping from the room.

  Karen leaned back on the exam table and stared at the ceiling. She couldn’t decide if the appointment had gone better or worse than she’d expected. That was saying something, as, all in all, it had been pretty horrible. Sighing and pushing herself upright, she proceeded to shed the gown and put on her own clothes. She grabbed the paperwork, then made her way through the tangle of hallways to the lab.

  On her way home, she called her mother.

  “Hah! We are killing it, Dylan. Knuckles.”

  Joe held out his fist and Dylan bumped it like a pro.

  “Kiln it!”

  Evan and Julia watched contentedly from their bouncy seats. They’d both been fed, burped, and changed with nary a tear shed. Infant or adult.

  Sure, Julia had spit up all over Joe’s shirt and Evan had done the same to Dylan, but they’d cleaned themselves up and soldiered on. If Karen was gone another twenty minutes or so, the sofa cushion might even be dry, and Joe wouldn’t have to tell her a good portion of what had landed on Dylan had, in turn, landed on the cushion when Dylan had twisted and writhed and done everything he could to get away from the offending mess.

  Joe eyed the twins, peeked at the clock, and debated. The normal schedule, if it could even be called a schedule, was a nap about thirty minutes after eating. What Joe didn’t know was if that was the same if they’d had a bottle as when Karen nursed them. If it was the same, then they should be falling asleep soon. If it made a difference, he had no idea what to expect.

  They seemed so content in their bouncy seats that Joe didn’t want to move them to their crib. They slept in their seats sometimes. If they fell asleep in them now, that wouldn’t be so bad. Then he and Dylan could play with the train and he could still keep an eye on the twins.

  Pleased with his decision, he sat down on the floor with Dylan. “Where should the train go today?”

  Dylan scooted across the floor, never getting up off his bottom, but using his heels to pull himself across the carpet. He pulled until his knees bent to the side in a way that defied logic and his bottom met his feet, then stretched out his feet and started the process over. Before he’d learned to crawl and long before he’d learned to walk, Dylan had perfected the peculiar mode of transportation and still sometimes resorted to it when standing up seemed to be too much of a bother. However fascinating it was, the maneuver never failed to make Joe’s own knees throb.

  “Choo, choo!” Dylan grabbed the lead train car and scooted across the floor, stopping at various places that obviously made sense to him, but that Joe couldn’t quite decipher.

  “C’mon, Daddy!”

  Obediently, Joe crawled to the current stop which happened to be alongside the toy box. Once the train stopped, Dylan clambered to his feet and dug in the toy box, emptying it as he searched.

  “What are you looking for?”

  Dylan didn’t answer, just kept digging. It didn’t take long until he hauled out a box of blocks, found at the bottom of the toy box from the looks of the floor, and proceeded to dump the contents on the train. The train cars broke apart and scattered like jumping beans.

  “Whoa! What happened?”

  Dylan slapped his hands over his mouth and giggled. “Crash,” he said, obviously delighted with the results.

  “Should we fix it?”

  “Fix it.”

  When Joe began righting the train cars and hooking them back together, Dylan scooped up blocks and shoved them back in their box.

&n
bsp; “Good job cleaning up.”

  Dylan stayed focused on trying to cram every block in the box.

  “I think we’re ready,” Joe said when he had the train rebuilt. “Where should we go now?”

  Dylan turned, looked down at the train, then with what Joe could only describe as a Joker-worthy evil cackle, held the box over his head and sent the blocks raining down on the train once again.

  Joe didn’t know whether to laugh or start worrying his son was cultivating maniacal tendencies.

  Before he could give the situation any more thought, wails sounded from the other side of the room. Joe started to get up to comfort the twins, likely as startled as he by their brother’s antics, when Dylan shouted, “No babies!” then proceeded to wail himself at a volume that drowned out the twins.

  It was then that Karen walked through the door.

  Joe’s head pivoted from the twins to Karen to Dylan and around again as the screaming reached fever pitch. It had all been going so well. Until that moment, he’d felt as though he’d sailed through the afternoon. Now, he felt like a complete and utter failure. Karen would get angry or fall apart or just turn and run. The kids would scream louder when he didn’t tend to them all immediately. And the way things were going, he figured a pipe would burst, or the power would go out, or the house would be struck by lightning, or something equally as devastating and up to him to try to fix.

  Before he could make a decision as to who required his attention first, Joe saw Karen close her eyes for a long moment, open them again, smile, then scoop up Dylan with one arm as she started across the room stopping to kiss Joe’s cheek on the way to the twins. She settled herself between them, situated Dylan on her lap, and put a calming hand on each infant. In a matter of a few seconds, the din was reduced to a low rumble.

  Joe was still rooted to his spot in the middle of the room, seeing but not quite believing, when Karen asked matter-of-factly, “Would you run to the twins’ room and grab a clean bib? Evan spit up on his.”

  Karen was rocking Dylan and somehow had managed to quiet all three. Whether it was her voice, her touch, or just her presence, Joe didn’t know, but what he did know was that he loved her completely. Whatever had happened—whatever was happening—between them, seeing her in the middle of their children, smiling serenely as she tended to all of them at once as if it were the simplest, most natural thing in the world sent his heart flipping in his chest.

  With a resolve he hadn’t quite mustered to that point, he swore to himself that he’d fix whatever it was that was wrong. He wouldn’t let tiredness or crying kids or anything else get in the way of finally talking—really talking—to his wife. Everything he’d ever wanted was right in front of him and he’d be damned if he’d let it slip away from him.

  “Tonight,” he muttered to himself as he continued to stare. Then, more firmly, he repeated, “Tonight.” Tonight they’d talk. He’d see to it.

  “Joe? Joe, what are you talking about? What’s tonight?”

  It took him a minute, but when he realized Karen was talking to him, he smiled and sat down on the floor next to her. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud, I guess.”

  Karen’s brow creased, and she looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she turned her attention back to Julia. “Okay, then, can you grab a bib? And a couple of burp cloths?”

  “Sure.” He cupped her cheek with his hand. “You have a magic touch with them, you know. It’s incredible to watch.”

  “Magic? Hardly. Just lucky once in a while.”

  That was another thing they’d discuss, Joe thought, as he fetched the things from the babies’ room. He needed to make Karen believe she was amazing with the kids, to understand how capable and intuitive she was. Maybe it was a mom thing, maybe her nursing background helped, but whatever it was, Joe knew without a doubt there was no one he’d rather have raising his kids with him.

  When he returned to the living room and sat down again next to his family, Dylan was still on Karen’s lap, but content now with paging through a book and the twins had quieted, their eyes seeming to follow the activity as he’d noticed them doing earlier in the day.

  “Does it seem like they’ve started noticing things around them?” Joe asked. “I think they’re starting to catch movements with their eyes. Is that possible?”

  Karen grinned. “I think you’re right. I’ve been noticing it, little by little. They’re growing up.”

  “Not too fast, I hope.”

  “Not too fast.”

  Karen fastened a clean bib around Evan’s neck and picked him up from his bouncy seat as Joe reached for Julia. Joe tossed a burp cloth over his shoulder and passed the other to Karen who did the same with hers. When Dylan started to squirm, Karen reached for a puzzle and dumped it from the frame to the floor. Joe helped the antsy toddler get started fitting the pieces into place.

  This is how it should be, Joe thought to himself. He and Karen in perfect sync, anticipating the other’s needs, moves, thoughts even. He reached for Karen’s hand and squeezed. Their eyes met over Dylan’s head and Joe was certain it wasn’t just wishful thinking when he detected a focus in her eyes and a lightness in her expression that he hadn’t seen in weeks. Months.

  Like so many times before, he feared saying the wrong thing, feared breaking whatever wonderful spell currently held Karen in its grasp, but he had promised himself he’d stop avoiding all things uncomfortable so forged ahead.

  “How was your appointment? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. I don’t have the lab results yet, but I’m not anemic. I’m just tired. I think Annie concurs. She wants the lab work to back up her gut feeling.”

  “Good. That’s good. Nothing else that had Annie concerned?”

  “No, nothing else.”

  Joe saw the quick glance Karen gave him, saw the suspicion in her eyes, but she shifted her gaze to Dylan and helped him rotate a puzzle piece into place. Determined not to let the subject change, Joe tried out in his head various ways of asking his next question, trying to come up with a way to ask, but to keep it sounding casual. Before he could make an attempt, Karen surprised him.

  “Shauna’s coming by tomorrow morning. Assuming it’s not too late, I’m going to tell her I’m planning on stopping by the studio on Thursday evening. Unless something comes up with one of the kids and I need to be here.”

  “You’re going? Really? That’s fantastic. Stay as long as you want. I can handle things here. Not that you’d know it, but this afternoon actually went very well. We just sort of melted down right as you walked in the door. I’m sorry that was your welcome home, but it wasn’t the norm for the afternoon. I promise.”

  Karen chuckled. “I believe you. The situation can change on a dime. Often does.” She looked at Joe. “But about Thursday. You don’t want to go?”

  “I want you to go. Relax. Let them do whatever it is they do to people at a spa. I don’t get it, but Shauna tells me it’s nothing short of heavenly.”

  “I want us to go. I called my mom on my way home. She’s still up for watching the kids and said she’ll bring Kelly with her. Unless you don’t want to go. I could call—”

  “Both of us? Together? Like a date? The day after tomorrow? Really?”

  This time Karen’s laugh was more than a chuckle. “You act like it’s been years since we’ve done anything together.” After a moment she sobered and looked sad. “Has it really been that long?”

  “There was that night Shauna took Dylan. Last fall. We stayed in. Does that count?”

  “I fell asleep that night. I don’t think it counts. And before that? Can you even remember? It really has been horrible around here, hasn’t it?”

  With a speed he never would have guessed he possessed, Joe tucked Julia in her seat, plucked Evan from Karen’s lap and settled him in his, then wrapped Karen in his arms.

  “Horrible? Of course not. Please don’t let yourself think that. We’ve been stressed, busy, tired, worried. I think when th
at happens, something’s gotta give, as the saying goes.” Joe stroked his hand up and down Karen’s back as she snuggled closer to him. “I’m ashamed to say that I’ve let it be us. I’ve put my job, my work around the house, the kids, everything before us. That was wrong. That was so very wrong. I’m so sorry, baby. I’ll do better. You deserve my best, not whatever I might have left over.”

  Karen was quiet, but she stayed close. Joe wished he could see her face as he’d always been able to read her real feelings by looking at her face. He wanted to shift his position, but it had been so long since he’d held her, just held her, that he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

  Dylan had different ideas. “Hug!” he shouted as he squeezed himself between them. Joe wrapped one arm around his son. Karen did the same, and they shared a giggly group hug until Dylan had enough and squirmed away.

  As he rolled away to free himself, he rolled over the TV remote. Joe saw the light bulb switch on.

  “Trains, Mommy?” Dylan asked as he held the remote out to Karen.

  “Did he watch TV while I was gone?”

  “No, we kept busy playing with the real trains.”

  “Okay, for a little while,” Karen said to a jubilant Dylan. Once he was settled with his eyes glued to the cartoon trains on the screen, Karen turned back to Joe.

  “It’s not your fault. I don’t want you thinking it is. You’re right about things being hard, exhausting, stressful, whatever, but you’re also right about it being easy to neglect the person that you love the most. It’s easy because you have faith that person won’t give up on you through the tirades and tantrums, the irrational actions, the inexcusable behavior. You need to let it all out somewhere and the one closest to you becomes that outlet because you know there’s likely no one else who would put up with it. It’s not fair, it’s not right, but it’s the way it is. Every night you go to sleep hoping and praying that person will forgive one more time, will forget one more time. You promise yourself it’s the last time, that you simply won’t let it happen again, then the next day, it starts all over again. And it gets easier and easier to just go on that way, even when you know it’s wrong. It becomes normal, even though it’s light years from the normal you want.”