The Conversation

Melanie hustled about the kitchen making breakfast. She pushed the bread into the toaster, reached into the refrigerator, and pulled out the milk. She stepped across the small room and half-filled the two glasses. The children were already seated at the table, waiting patiently for their warm plate of scrambled eggs and toast. Melanie was thankful that it was a good morning. No temper tantrums or whining to slow her down.

Today was Saturday, and therefore it was laundry day. Mark and Lisa were scheduled to spend some time with their grandparents, which would allow Melanie to take care of the laundry and some shopping. As much as Lisa loved her children, it was nice to have a little time to herself once in a while. Her late husband's parents had been looking forward to spending a few hours with the kids.

Six-year-old Mark was a rambunctious first-grader who loved going on field trips with his grandparents. At four, pre-kindergartner Lisa was a bit more reticent. She was already a beginning reader, and loved sticking her nose in a book more than just about anything. She loved learning. Melanie knew that both of her children would be thrilled when they learned that they would be going to the zoo today.

Both sets of grandparents had been more than supportive since Melanie's husband Frank Junior had been killed in a workplace accident three years ago. Frank had been a hard worker, and at thirty-three was already a foreman for a large construction contractor. Lisa had been twenty-eight at the time, and was a stay-at-home mom.

Before the accident, Melanie and Frank had planned for her to return to her career as soon as Lisa started first grade. As an educator herself, she would be able to structure her work day around the children. The young couple had been a good team. Melanie had never felt that she was overwhelmed with housework or child-tending, because Frank had always been willing to pitch in when he was home.

At first it had been tough as a widowed mother of two little ones. Mark had just come out of his "terrible twos" and had only been potty trained a short while, and Lisa was still in diapers as a one-year-old. Both were precocious, talkative, and imaginative.

It was that, in the end, that made it easier for Melanie, because she found that her children seemed to understand much about what was happening in their lives. It seemed to her that they should be less aware of the realities and challenges of life. She wanted to protect them, but sometimes it seemed like they were protecting her.

'But not in a bad way,' she thought now as she poured a cup of tea and sat down to have breakfast with her children. 'It's not that they're protecting me like little grownups. It's more like we are a little team working together, each of us with our own part to play.'

Turning her attention to Lisa and Mark, Melanie smiled and asked how they were doing this morning. Both children were beaming as they leaned into their ideas about what might be planned once they arrived at their grandparents' home.

"I hope we go fishing!" Mark almost yelled, as excited little boys often do.

Lisa piped up with, "I'm taking my new babydoll and a book, but if we go someplace fun, I'll leave the book in my backpack. Grandma told me the next time we came we might go someplace fun!"

When the dishes were done and the children's backpacks filled with a change of clothing and a few toys and books, Melanie buckled them into their car seats for the drive across town. Her in-laws lived in a suburb on the opposite side of the city in a housing development for retirees. The children would spend the night and the grandparents would drive them back across town in the morning.

As she pulled out of the driveway, Melanie turned the radio to an oldies station. When she was driving, she preferred bouncy music that she could sing along to. By now, the kids knew the words to just about every song the station played. In the back seat, Lisa settled her babydoll next to her, opened her book, and began pointing at pictures, "reading" to her doll. Mark looked out the window, his eyes filled with a look of anticipation. He was as excited as only a small boy could be heading into an unknown adventure. For it surely was an adventure for Mark when he got to see his grandpa.

Melanie drove, quietly singing along to the music, but her mind was full. She needed time to herself. For two days, she had been waiting impatiently for today. 'Just this one-hour drive, and I'll be able to think.' She watched the traffic around her, allowing her mind to wander, wondering about the lives of all the people on the road.

When Mark asked her to turn up the radio, she realized that Lisa was singing along to a song they all loved to belt out, sometimes dancing around the house. Melanie turned the volume up slightly and added her voice to the sing-a-long.

Soon they were at the grandparents' home; the kids rushed in to big hugs from Grandma and Grandpa and lavish slurpy kisses from the dogs. Melanie hugged and kissed the kids, promised to see them tomorrow, and turned to the door. Grandpa led dogs and children into the backyard while Grandma walked Melanie back to the car.

"Don't worry, honey," she said to her daughter-in-law. "We've got a great day planned. You look tired. Get a little rest, my girl!"

Melanie smiled sheepishly, "Well, I guess I haven't been sleeping well these past couple of days. I blame it on allergies. The medication doesn't always work. I'll probably get a good nap in after the laundry's done. I've only got a few things to do around the house and only one class's work to be graded."

Her mother-in-law gave her a quick hug. "If you talk to your parents, tell them we said hello. And we'll see you about noon tomorrow."

Melanie nodded. "I'll have brunch ready."

"You needn't do that, you know."

"I know," laughed Melanie. "But I've got it planned. Nothing big."

"See you then!"

Smiling, Melanie slipped into the car and took off.

---

Melanie did the shopping first so she wouldn't have to go out again once she was home. There wasn't much to purchase - mostly items for tomorrow's brunch and a few staples. Cat food. Ice cream. Popcorn. Tea. She tossed everything into the cart, rushing through the store. She really wanted to be home right now.

There was so much to think about. It kept trying to creep into her thoughts even now. She pushed it away as she chatted with the cashier and the bagger. By the time she loaded the bags into the car, it was trying to push its way back in.

'I've got to get home!'

---

The groceries were put away, the laundry sorted, and the first load in the washer. Melanie headed to tea pot and filled it with water. Switching it on, she pulled out some loose tea leaves. Earl Grey with lavender. She put together a sandwich and placed it and some pickles and olives on a plate.

Setting it on the table next to her rocking chair, she then poured water into her teacup and set it near the plate to steep. A journal and a pen joined the items on the table, and Melanie put an old compact disc in the player on repeat. Celtic music, soft and ethereal, began to fill the room.

'Maybe some incense.' She lit some sandalwood. It felt nice. Calm.

Now she could think. She began to write.

---

When Frank died, I was so lonely. I never thought I could care about anyone else again. He was my high school sweetheart, my date for the Senior Prom, the man of my dreams. He was the father of the two children I love and care for and raise, hoping to be able to be both mom and dad for them.

Time passes, but the heartache doesn't really go away. I had to go to work. I learned not to cry at every reminder that my love had been taken from me. I learned to laugh.

About four months ago I met someone who I thought would be someone I could care about. My heart was open. It was as if Frank had given me permission to move on. Randy seemed so nice, so perfect.

The first few dates were fine. He was a gentleman, much more old-fashioned than most. He took me to dinner. Opened my car door for me. Pulled out my chair. We didn't have our first kiss until about the fourth date when he walked me to the door.

He knew about the children, that I was a widow. He told me more than once that he respected my mourning, my hesitancy to become serious. It was that very 'respect' that allowed me to trust him. It was what allowed me to open a door that I thought was closed forever.

It happened on a night when the children were away, like tonight. We had been to a restaurant for a nice dinner and then to a movie. When he walked me to the door, I invited him in for a cup of coffee. My guard was down. We chatted about the film, which led to talking about our areas of interest, many of which overlapped. It wasn't as if we hadn't had these discussions before, but this time…

This time we talked about so many things that eventually the conversation circled back around to our previous relationships. His ex-wife. Frank. Our loneliness. I let myself lean on him in a moment of weakness, and he kissed me. It was a tender kiss, gentle and sweet. It ended as such tender kisses do between adults who have come to trust one another, who seem to have much in common, and who, well, in full disclosure, are attracted to one another.

I asked him if he had a prophylactic with him. When he said, "of course," I thought it sounded like he was hurt that I would ask. It was probably my imagination. I don't know…

---

Melanie shifted in her chair, taking a sip of tea and a bite of her sandwich. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes as she recalled the moment when she realized the thing had "fallen off." That was his explanation. It just "fell off."

He had told her not to worry, it would be fine.

Only it wasn't. Melanie hesitated to write anything more in her journal. She didn't have the words for what came next. His half-assed apology. The revelation about his marriage. His response when she told him, pulling a couple hundred dollars out of his pocket and pushing it into her hand, saying, "that's my contribution for the procedure."

The procedure. She knew what he meant. It had already crossed her mind. What else could she do? She could barely afford to keep everything going smoothly for her family now. And what would her parents think? Frank's parents?

They knew it was time for her to get on with her life, but she knew this would feel like a betrayal to them. It did to her; now that Randy had made it clear that he would in no way support her if she made a different decision, the sense of betrayal bore down on her.

Had it been love it would be different.

Wouldn't it?

Melanie closed the journal and finished her meal before switching on the television. She settled in to watch an old musical comedy. An old romance was perfect. It would make her cry, and a good cry was what she needed right now.

---

Melanie brewed a cup of tea and stepped out on her back porch to watch the sun rise. Sitting in the big Adirondak chair where she had sat beside Frank so many years, Melanie felt comfortable and safe. She sipped her tea and spoke aloud.

"You know I can't have another child right now," she whispered. "It's not that I wouldn't love you. In fact, I already do, very much. I don't know what to do."

The rosy light from the east fell, soft and warm on the porch. Taking a deep, slow breath, she placed a hand on her belly, still as flat as any belly on a woman who had borne two children. There was yet no outward sign of this new pregnancy.

"I dreamed you were a boy," she said. "I know you're a boy. Mark would love a brother."

She felt a surge of love as a tear trailed down her cheek. She pulled her legs up to her chest, resting the teacup on her knee. Her other hand still covered her belly.

"I would name you Reston, after my great-grandfather."

In the silence, she felt a presence. Looking around, she was aware that she was alone.

Yet she wasn't alone.

"I can come back to you, later."

She heard the voice deep inside her head. It was soft but strong and decidedly male.

"I know you love me. I will wait until you are ready."

Into the empty morning, Melanie cried, "but what if I can't? What if there's no one else?"

"There will be," came the voice. "I know there will be. I love you, Mother. I will be here when you are ready."

---

Melanie opened her eyes. She lay in her bed in the dark. She could see the clock. 6:00 a.m. Reaching back, she moved the drape in the window behind her headboard. It was still dark.

"It was a dream," she lamented. Then, as she prepared to get out of bed, she heard a quiet voice as if it was in the distance.

"I will be back in a few years."

---

Brunch was ready and set out on the dining room table when Melanie's in-laws pulled up. The children barreled out of the back seat, pulling their backpacks behind them. Lisa clutched her doll in one hand.

"Mommy! Mommy! We went to the zoo!"

"Did you? You'll have to tell me all about it after lunch." Melanie pulled both children into her arms and kissed their heads. "Are you hungry?"

They clamored that indeed they were and ran to climb into their chairs at the table. As Melanie and the other adults joined the children, her mother-in-law asked, "by the way, how is it going with that guy you were dating? Randy, was it?"

Melanie laughed, surprising herself. "Turns out he's married. The ex-wife he kept talking about is very much still his wife. They have four children."

It was the first time she acknowledged to herself that the true betrayal had been his.

"Listen," she said as she scooped potato salad onto Mark's plate, "I have an appointment on Friday after school. Should be a few hours. Do you think you could watch the kids that afternoon?"

"You know it," came the reply from her father-in-law. "We'll come over here. What time?"

Melanie told them, plopping a spoonful of potato salad onto her own plate. Later, when the in-laws were gone, she would call and ask her friend Ariel to accompany her on Friday.

She would need a ride home.

***

This story first appeared in Brigid's Arrow on Medium (c) Suzy Jacobson Cherry 2023