other night of this vacation.
It didn’t happen, and now it’s much too late. The alarm clock will go off any time now, and it will be time for him and Beth to go back to the real world.
His kids are the only thing Nick misses about that—but not as much, he guiltily admits to himself, as he’d expected to. They no longer need him the way they used to. Lucy and Ryan because they’re older and more self-sufficient, and Sadie because…
Well, he’s not sure why, exactly. All he knows is that he can’t quite connect with his youngest child. It’s always been that way.
Maybe he didn’t take enough time to bond with her as a newborn, too caught up in his career.
Maybe, unlike his own father, he’s just not the paternal type. Maybe he’s more like his mother.
All he knows for sure is that he couldn’t help but favor the older kids—albeit unfairly—because their lives were more interesting. Faced with the choice of spending his precious weekend afternoons changing diapers or on the soccer field sidelines, he’d chosen the latter.
Of course Lauren, who was home with the baby 24–7, tended to complain about that.
“You’re the one who used to pray for rainouts,” he reminded her. “Now you want to go to the games?”
“Lucy and Ryan want me there.”
“They want me there, too.”
“But I have to get out of the house,” she said. “You’re out all the time.”
“Working,” he pointed out, and off they went on one of those maddening, can’t-win arguments.
Now Sadie, who hasn’t even been to kindergarten yet, is seeing a shrink. He could tell by the way Lauren discussed the situation that she probably blames that on him, too. Maybe it is his fault. But not entirely.
He supposes, looking back, that they could have just brought Sadie along to the autumn soccer and lacrosse matches, to the basketball court in winter, to Little League and girls’ softball games in spring.
But Sadie caught enough colds as it was, and the weather was often raw, and Lauren was overprotective, in Nick’s opinion.
Plus, it was such a hassle to lug the necessary gear—diaper bag, stroller, port-a-playpen—across the fields…
Excuses, excuses.
The truth is, Sadie arrived just when Nick was hitting his stride—as a corporate executive, as a husband, as a father, as a homeowner. Having a baby in the house again cramped his style and threw off the family rhythm. Not long after they found themselves with another mouth to feed, the economy began to tank. It was all Nick could do to hang on to his job as the axe fell all around him. Then his father got sick, was declared terminal, died.
How, he wondered back in those grim days, had his life become such a shambles?
“It was like falling off the carousel horse just as the brass ring was within my grasp,” is how he described it to Beth, not long after they met.
“Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I’m the brass ring,” she said with a sly grin.
She was. Having Beth in his world revitalized him in ways he’d never dreamed possible. But even she can’t erase the baggage, the endless distractions, the responsibilities that will follow him for years to come.
There’s only one way to escape.
Well, two, if you count death.
The alternative, while infinitely more appealing, is hardly a viable choice.
Is it?
No , he tells himself firmly. You can’t run off with your mistress. You’re going back to the real world, and that’s that.
Nick takes one last, wistful look at the seascape before heading inside.
“Morning, Daddy.”
Startled by his daughter’s voice, Garvey looks up to see Caroline standing in the doorway of his den—not just awake at this early hour, but fully dressed in khaki shorts and a pale green polo.
He aims the TiVo remote at the television and presses the pause button, freezing the preternaturally cheerful morning news anchor in a gums-baring smile.
“Good morning, sunshine. Is the building on fire?”
Most teenagers,
It didn’t happen, and now it’s much too late. The alarm clock will go off any time now, and it will be time for him and Beth to go back to the real world.
His kids are the only thing Nick misses about that—but not as much, he guiltily admits to himself, as he’d expected to. They no longer need him the way they used to. Lucy and Ryan because they’re older and more self-sufficient, and Sadie because…
Well, he’s not sure why, exactly. All he knows is that he can’t quite connect with his youngest child. It’s always been that way.
Maybe he didn’t take enough time to bond with her as a newborn, too caught up in his career.
Maybe, unlike his own father, he’s just not the paternal type. Maybe he’s more like his mother.
All he knows for sure is that he couldn’t help but favor the older kids—albeit unfairly—because their lives were more interesting. Faced with the choice of spending his precious weekend afternoons changing diapers or on the soccer field sidelines, he’d chosen the latter.
Of course Lauren, who was home with the baby 24–7, tended to complain about that.
“You’re the one who used to pray for rainouts,” he reminded her. “Now you want to go to the games?”
“Lucy and Ryan want me there.”
“They want me there, too.”
“But I have to get out of the house,” she said. “You’re out all the time.”
“Working,” he pointed out, and off they went on one of those maddening, can’t-win arguments.
Now Sadie, who hasn’t even been to kindergarten yet, is seeing a shrink. He could tell by the way Lauren discussed the situation that she probably blames that on him, too. Maybe it is his fault. But not entirely.
He supposes, looking back, that they could have just brought Sadie along to the autumn soccer and lacrosse matches, to the basketball court in winter, to Little League and girls’ softball games in spring.
But Sadie caught enough colds as it was, and the weather was often raw, and Lauren was overprotective, in Nick’s opinion.
Plus, it was such a hassle to lug the necessary gear—diaper bag, stroller, port-a-playpen—across the fields…
Excuses, excuses.
The truth is, Sadie arrived just when Nick was hitting his stride—as a corporate executive, as a husband, as a father, as a homeowner. Having a baby in the house again cramped his style and threw off the family rhythm. Not long after they found themselves with another mouth to feed, the economy began to tank. It was all Nick could do to hang on to his job as the axe fell all around him. Then his father got sick, was declared terminal, died.
How, he wondered back in those grim days, had his life become such a shambles?
“It was like falling off the carousel horse just as the brass ring was within my grasp,” is how he described it to Beth, not long after they met.
“Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I’m the brass ring,” she said with a sly grin.
She was. Having Beth in his world revitalized him in ways he’d never dreamed possible. But even she can’t erase the baggage, the endless distractions, the responsibilities that will follow him for years to come.
There’s only one way to escape.
Well, two, if you count death.
The alternative, while infinitely more appealing, is hardly a viable choice.
Is it?
No , he tells himself firmly. You can’t run off with your mistress. You’re going back to the real world, and that’s that.
Nick takes one last, wistful look at the seascape before heading inside.
“Morning, Daddy.”
Startled by his daughter’s voice, Garvey looks up to see Caroline standing in the doorway of his den—not just awake at this early hour, but fully dressed in khaki shorts and a pale green polo.
He aims the TiVo remote at the television and presses the pause button, freezing the preternaturally cheerful morning news anchor in a gums-baring smile.
“Good morning, sunshine. Is the building on fire?”
Most teenagers,
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