The House

“Yes, sir,” she said, marching upstairs to her room, carrying her shoes, with her spoils from Neiman's. The stairs in her new house were keeping her in shape. She hadn't started to build the gym in the basement yet. She wanted to do curtains and furniture first.

He was back upstairs in her bedroom half an hour later. She was lying on the bed, watching the news and looking relaxed. He loved just watching her sometimes. He lay down next to her and put an arm around her.

“I told my mother about us today,” Sarah said vaguely, keeping her eyes on the TV.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing much. She likes you. So does Mimi. She just gave me the usual corny crap, about my age, last chance, kids, blah blah blah.”

“Translate that for me,” he asked with interest. “The blah blah blah part. Fill in the gaps.”

“She thinks I should get married and have kids. I don't. I never did.”

“Why not?”

“I don't believe in marriage. I think it fucks up everything.”

“Oh well, that simplifies things, doesn't it?”

“It does for me. Is that okay with you?” She looked at him then, vaguely worried. They had never explored the subject in detail. Since he had never married Marie-Louise, she had always assumed he felt the same way she did.

“I don't know. I guess so. If it has to be. I wouldn't mind having a kid one day, or even two. And it's probably nicer for the kid if its parents are married, but it's not essential if it's a deal breaker for you.”

“I don't want kids,” she said firmly, looking scared.

“Why not?”

“Too scary. It changes people's lives too much. I never see my old friends. They're all too busy changing diapers and driving carpool. How much fun can that be?”

“Some people seem to like it,” he said cautiously.

She looked at him honestly then. “Tell the truth, can you really see either of us with a kid? I don't think we're that kind of people. At least I'm not. I like my work. I like what I do. I like lying here on my ass watching TV before you take me out to dinner, and we don't need a babysitter to do it. I love you.… I'm crazy about my house. Why mess with a good thing? Why push it? What if you wound up with a really awful kid who did drugs and stole cars or something, or like Tom's daughter, blind and brain damaged? I couldn't do it.”

“You paint a pretty grim picture, Sarah.”

“Yeah. You should have seen my mother's life when she was married to my father. He was a vegetable, always drunk, hiding in the bedroom while she made excuses for him. And my childhood was a nightmare. I was always afraid he'd come reeling out when my friends were there, or do something to embarrass me. And then he died, which was worse. My mother cried all the time, and I felt guilty because I used to wish he'd die or leave or something, and then he did, and I figured it was my fault. Forget it. I finally made it out of the trenches into adulthood, and I'm not going back to any part of that. I didn't like being a kid, and I don't want to do that to someone else.”

“Neither of us drinks,” he said practically.

She looked at him, horrified. “Are you telling me you want kids?” That was a news flash to her, and not a good one.

“Maybe one day,” he said honestly, “before I'm too ancient.”

“And if I don't?” She felt panicked as she asked him, but she wanted to know, before they went any further. It could be a deal breaker for her.

“If you don't, I love you anyway. I won't push it. I'd rather have you than a kid … but maybe at some point, I wouldn't mind having both.” She was stunned to hear it. She had assumed he didn't want any, either. This was not good news to her.

“If I had a kid, I wouldn't get married,” she said defiantly, and he laughed at her, and leaned over and kissed her.

“I wouldn't expect anything less of you, my love. Let's not worry about it. Whatever happens, happens.” They were being careful, but listening to him, Sarah reminded herself to be more so. She didn't want any slips, if so, he'd probably want to keep it and she wouldn't. They didn't need the headache or the grief. She thought their life together was perfect just as it was.

“I'm too old to have children anyway,” she said, pushing it further. “I'll be forty on my next birthday,” she reminded him. “That's way too old.” But they both knew it wasn't. He didn't comment. It was obviously a subject that upset her, and for now anyway, it was not a pressing problem. For either of them.