To Rory, it’s as if she’s punctuating their perfect day with a closing statement, resting a case she has been building all afternoon. Well, she’s wrong, he thinks. They could do this if they had children. They could have cycled around Berlin pulling one of those wheeled tent-like contraptions for kids, like the families he saw in the Tiergarten. Here in the restaurant, all they’d need is a portable car seat like Daisy’s. The baby could sleep at his feet. He’s seen it done plenty of times. A baby wouldn’t have to curtail their life. But he says none of this. Instead, he goes quiet.
They taxi back to the hotel, deciding to collect the bikes in the morning.
‘You’re not saying much,’ Louise says, back in their room.
‘Tired,’ he lies.
He had planned on sex, had been thinking about it all day. Now it’s the last thing he feels like. He spends a long time in the bathroom. When he finally makes it to bed, she is reading. He kisses her goodnight, turns out his light and puts a pillow over his head. But he doesn’t sleep. What if she never wants a baby, what then? He needs to know where he stands. Long term. He removes the pillow, turns to look at her. Her cheeks are rosy after their day in the cold. She would have a beautiful baby.
He tries to sound casual when he asks, ‘Where do you see yourself in five years, Lou?’
She laughs, lowers the book and smiles. ‘What’s this, a job interview?’
‘Do you see yourself with me?’
‘Do you?’
‘I’d like to,’ he answers, putting it mildly.
‘Me, too.’ She snuggles down in the bed so that they are lying facing each other. She wraps a leg around him, like she used to. He wonders how to make the next step. Maybe if he talks about Daisy, how cute she is, how big she’s getting, how amazingly quickly babies develop…
Louise’s eyes narrow. She takes her leg back. ‘Where is this going, Rory?’
‘What? Nowhere.’
‘I’m not stupid.’ She sits up.
He joins her. ‘I know that. And I know you don’t want kids right now. And I understand that completely, but I’d like to know about the future. Do you see yourself having kids sometime?’
She sounds tired when she says, ‘Rory, I’ve just set up the business.’
‘I know. I’m talking about the future.’
‘The shop is my baby. I need to prove I can do this, OK? It’s important.’
‘I understand that. I’m talking about some woolly time in the future. I know we’ve always thought, why bother? But I don’t want us to make a mistake, find out too late that we should have had a family. Neither of us is getting any younger. I just think it’s something we should discuss.’
‘I don’t want kids. I’m not ready.’
‘I thought I wasn’t either. Until it looked like I mightn’t be able to have them.’
‘What?’
‘If I’d contracted AIDS or something, I wouldn’t have been able to, not without the risk of infecting you.’
‘Oh.’
‘It made me think, Lou. We’re not going to live for ever. Don’t you want to leave something behind?’
‘That’s no reason to have a child,’ she snaps. ‘They’re little people. They can be hurt – so easily.’ She looks away. When she looks back, her voice is firm. ‘They change your life. Tie you down. You’ve seen Barry and Dee. Do you want that life?’
Yes, yes he does.
‘This is a reaction,’ she says. ‘You know that’s what this is.’
‘But what if it’s the right one?’
‘We’re happy together as we are. We’ve our freedom, our independence. We’ve each other. We can do what we want when we want – together. Go to the movies, eat out, travel.’
‘We could still do that.’
‘I have my career, things I have to achieve, for myself.’
‘A baby needn’t affect that.’
Her voice becomes emotional when she says, ‘I’m not going to have a child then spend all my time giving out about it and how it ruined my life. I’m not going to be a hypocrite. I know what that does to a child.’
He speaks slowly. ‘Are you saying you never want kids?’ Everything around him fades.
‘Don’t push me into a corner, Rory.’
‘I’m not trying to. I just think I should know what the story is. I think that’s only fair.’
She sighs heavily. ‘All I know is I don’t want kids now. OK? And I’m not going to have them until I do.’
‘What if that’s too late?’
‘Then it’s too late.’
‘You’ll miss out.’
‘Then I’ll miss out.’
He is silent. He’ll miss out.
‘Not every woman has to be a mother.’
‘I’m not talking about every woman, I’m talking about us.’ For a brief moment, Rory wishes Louise had gone through what he has – just the fright – not the injury – just so she could see. ‘Our lives are empty, selfish…’
‘I don’t think my life is empty or selfish just because I don’t want kids.’ She flings back the duvet and is out of bed, walking to the window, pacing the room as though the space is confining her.
And he knows he has pushed too far.
She slows. Stops. Looks at him, her eyes wide, glassy. She speaks very slowly. ‘I don’t want you to stay with me, wanting something that might never happen. I don’t want that pressure.’ She puts her hand over her mouth, as though shocked by what she has said.
He is over to her in a flash, taking her in his arms, full of remorse.
‘Forget what I said. I don’t want anything. I love you. OK? I love you. That’s enough. That’s all I want.’ He lifts her chin with his index finger, peers into her eyes. ‘You’re right. It’s a reaction. That’s all it is, a reaction.’ He hugs her tightly, as though to rid his mind of any more thoughts of children. But no matter how tightly he holds her, he cannot quell the feeling that he is being forced into sacrificing something he passionately wants.
14
It’s Thursday evening. Louise is working late. Rory doesn’t tell her he’s bringing Jason out to make up for the man-time missed when they were in Berlin. The whole subject of children has become a sensitive one. And so he avoids it.
He and Jason are queuing for popcorn at the local cinema.
‘Who do you like the most, Jenna or me?’ Jason asks.
Rory ruffles his hair. ‘I like you both the same.’
‘But you don’t bring her to the movies.’
‘No, that’s true.’ He lets the boy have that. He does wonder, though, why Jason cares. He’s supposed to be going home. Maybe he doesn’t want to get his hopes up after last time. Poor kid. It is happening, though. In two weeks, he will be gone. Rory looks down at him. He is going to miss the little guy.
‘Hey! She’s in my class,’ Jason says, pointing to a tiny black girl with braided hair, rushing ahead of an exotic looking woman. ‘I have to do Irish dancing with her.’
Rory notices the ‘have to’ and hopes it’s not racist.
‘Black people have big lips, haven’t they?’ Jason says, loudly.
Fuck. ‘Eh, yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ Rory says, rather than getting into a discussion.
The woman in front turns around. She looks both of them up and down and then turns back.
‘It’s genes,’ Rory explains, his voice low. ‘Everyone gets their looks from their parents. Your friend’s mum and dad have big lips, and their mum and dad have big lips and so on.’
Jason is quiet for a moment. Then, ‘So that means that Adam must’ve been black and Eve must’ve been white or else there wouldn’t be black people and white people in the world.’
‘There’s a thought,’ Rory says, part amazed, part relieved to be reaching the counter.
They sit in the back row, waiting for the movie to start. Jason is sucking loudly on his straw. Rory never knew Slush-Puppies could be so noisy. The sound sadde
ns him. It is a reminder of what he may miss out on. He blew it in Berlin. Why hadn’t he just said he wanted to be a dad to some unique little person, yet to be created, to share the wonder of that with Louise, the woman he loves? Why did he have to bring up about leaving something behind? That’s only part of it. How easy it had been when they’d both wanted the same thing. But in a way, Rory admires Louise. Would he be so totally confident in holding off on children if he had a biological clock? Then again, he does have a biological clock – as long as he is in love with a woman who has one. The lights lower and Jason lifts his face from the SlushPuppy and his eyes widen in anticipation. Rory smiles, understanding what the hardened TV addict sees in the movies – the big screen, the treats, the escape and the feeling of being in a room full of strangers united in their love of film. Hard to believe that Jason had never been to a movie until Rory brought him. He is glad to have been able to do that for him.
Mid-March, Rory is throwing his rugby kit into the boot of his car after coaching when his mobile rings. He doesn’t recognize the number but answers it.
‘Rory?’
He stops. It couldn’t be. ‘Liz?’
She laughs.
They haven’t spoken in over five years. The last conversation they had was to end their relationship. Rory hasn’t worked out what to say, when she solves the problem for him.
‘How’re you doing?’
‘Eh, good. Great.’ He wonders what she wants. ‘And you?’
‘Good, yeah… I was hoping you might have a free moment to meet up?’
He hesitates. ‘Anything up?’
‘I was just hoping you might be able to help me with something.’
‘Yeah?’ As in, what exactly?
‘Are you free for coffee in the next day or two?’
He thinks it through. Might not be a good idea to tell Louise about this until he knows what it’s about. ‘I can meet you briefly, Saturday morning. Around ten-thirty?’
‘Great.’
They arrange a time and place.
After he has hung up, Rory stays looking at the phone. Weird! What could she want after all this time? And why didn’t she just ask him over the phone? He slams the boot shut and gets into the car. Driving home, he thinks about Liz, imagines her married with kids now. She had wanted that five years ago. Which had caught him off guard. He’d never seen her as the marrying kind. If he had, he’d never have gone out with her when she’d asked him to, at that party thrown by a mutual friend. She was the first and only techie he ever dated, a computer programmer with a grasp of maths that frightened him. Their year together was a good one. He was a model boyfriend, decent, thoughtful. Funny. Until it became clear that she had plans beyond sex and fun. That’s when he’d panicked. And began to work out how he might disentangle himself. He feels guilty now, realizing what it’s like to be that person who wants more. If Liz knew of his situation now, she’d probably think it sweet revenge. Then again, he has no idea what she’d think. Especially if she has, as he suspects, become a wife and mother with a full life. In which case, why would she want to see Rory again?
On Saturday, he arrives at the coffee shop ten minutes late and throws his umbrella into a stand. A quick scan reveals her sitting with her back to the door a few tables in. Dark hair, thick and wavy, posture erect. Has to be her. Liz never slumped. Well, not until their relationship began to sour.
She is reading.
‘Hey,’ he says when he reaches the table.
She looks up from the book. Smiles. ‘Hey, yourself.’
He becomes aware that he is smiling and that it feels good to see her. ‘Want anything up there?’ He nods to the counter.
‘I’m good, thanks.’
Rory does a double take. She sounds American. Looks the same, though. Which also surprises him – he’d imagined her different. More mumsy? Softer, maybe. But what does he know? He hangs his coat on the back of the chair and makes for the counter. He hasn’t eaten but a latte will do. He’s not staying long.
‘So. How’ve you been?’ he asks, pulling out the seat opposite her.
She tucks the book away in a canvas bag that suits her sophisticated yet semi-bohemian image. Whoever said that all techies are geeks?
‘Good,’ she says, ‘and you? How’re things with you?’
‘Grand.’ He stirs his coffee. ‘The usual. Still in neurology. Back at St Paul’s again.’
‘With anyone?’
Her directness throws him and he laughs. ‘Yes, I’m with someone. You?’
‘No, no one.’ She takes a sip of her espresso. ‘Not that it matters.’
Then why did she ask? he wonders. But says nothing.
‘So. How serious is this relationship of yours?’ she asks.
He feels like telling her to ask Louise. ‘Four years,’ he says, instead.
‘Wow! That’s great. Congratulations. What’s her name, this lucky woman?’
He’s not sure Louise would consider herself in that category. ‘Eh, Louise.’
‘And what age is Louise?’
He shifts in his chair. Doesn’t remember Liz being this aggressive. ‘Thirty-eight.’
‘Kids?’
‘Eh, no.’ He is surprised that to validate his relationship with Louise he feels the need to add, ‘Not yet.’
She raises already arched eyebrows. ‘You’d want to get moving, then.’
It’s like that moment in chess where you give up trying to work out your opponent’s strategy. He laughs – what else can he do?
‘You’d make a great father.’
The second woman in under a week who has said this to him. Pity one of them wasn’t Louise. ‘So you’ve called me up after five years to tell me to get moving on kids?’
She holds his gaze. ‘In a way, yes.’
‘Liz. You’ve lost me.’
‘Sorry.’ For the first time, she falters. She picks up her yellow napkin and puts it back down, running her fingers along it as though to remove invisible creases. ‘I should just say it.’ She folds the napkin over. ‘I’ve been in the States, for a while now. Silicon Valley. Since we split, actually.’ She looks up. ‘Life’s been great. A lot of laughs. A few relationships. Nothing serious. You know yourself.’
He tries to adjust to this. Maybe she changed her mind. If she’d wanted marriage, she’d have got it, wouldn’t she? She’s an attractive woman, with no shortage of interest…
‘But I’m tired of that life,’ she continues. ‘I’ve outgrown it, I guess. I’ve come home. And that’s been good for me. It’s made me see how pointless my life would be – without children.’
For the first time, he knows exactly what she means. She is speaking his language. She could be describing his own experience. But why is she is telling him?
‘I’m heading for forty. I’m tired of waiting for the right guy to show up. And I’m not going to settle for someone who isn’t right, just to have a baby.’ Her voice becomes firm. ‘I’ve a good setup at work. Good family support. Plenty of money.’
Rory’s lips are dry. His palms damp. What is this? An offer of some sort?
‘I don’t need a man.’
He lets out a breath. For a moment there…
‘I’ve thought about sperm banks.’
That’s it, sperm banks. She’s come to ask his professional opinion. Not that he’s going to be much help. He hasn’t a clue about sperm banks.
‘But you don’t know what you’re getting, do you?’
Oh.
‘I’ve thought about a casual fling.’
Whatever rocks your boat.
‘Same problem.’ She is looking directly at Rory. ‘You are the smartest, funniest, loveliest guy I know.’
Oh oh.
‘You’re physically gorgeous.’
No way.
‘I know you. I like you. I trust you.’
Rory thinks of Louise.
‘Our energies are compatible.’
‘I’m in a relationship, Liz.’ For one thin
g.
‘I don’t expect anything.’
‘Just sperm,’ he says. It seems so clinical.
‘You wouldn’t ever have to see the baby.’
Baby.
‘I’d never hit you for maintenance.’
It hadn’t crossed his mind.
‘We could sign a legal agreement…’
‘Hang on. Slow down. Whoa!’
‘Sorry.’
‘I need another coffee,’ he says. ‘Want one?’
‘Double espresso.’
At the counter, he tries to think. He glances back at her but she is looking at him and he quickly faces forward again. As he watches the teenager who reminds him of Jenna fill two fresh cups, it occurs to him that he is living in the wrong generation. Whatever happened to asking the girl you loved to marry you, her saying yes, and off you went and had a family? Simple. None of this complication.
When he gets back, he has his answer.
‘You don’t need me, Liz. You’ve millions of options. Sperm banks…’
‘Why shouldn’t I try to create the perfect baby?’
Perfect? How can he guarantee perfection? ‘I’m flattered, who wouldn’t be, but…’
‘I want nothing from you, Rory, just that chance. No strings.’
‘It’s not that simple, Liz. If I was responsible for a baby coming into this world, I’d want strings.’
‘You could see the baby any time you wanted.’
The baby. It sounds so real. So tangible. So possible. Outside, crowds mill past. He can’t believe that of all the men in the world – or at least all the men in Liz’s – she has chosen him. Given Louise’s rejection, it helps. He imagines a stallion, a bucking, full-blooded stallion with a shiny black coat. A breeding stallion. Which reminds him – the logistics. He’s not having sex with her if that’s what she thinks. He’d never be unfaithful to Louise. But doesn’t having a baby with someone else fall into that category? Not if he told Louise, included her. He almost laughs. Yeah, right, ‘Eh, Louise, I’ve something to tell you…’ Not that he’s going to do anything anyway. He’s just thinking. Working it through.
‘I’m curious,’ he says eventually. ‘Hypothetically how would a couple go about this?’
Do You Want What I Want? Page 10
