Paper Chains by Nicola Moriarty Page B

chanted quietly to herself as she tossed and turned. As she lay there, her eyes attempting to focus on the darkened ceiling, she thought with interest, Tonight is the first time that you have ever lied to your husband. She was referring to the great chicken dinner deception. But then she realised that this wasn’t true and the moment didn’t seem quite so poignant any more. She had in fact lied to him on the first night that they had had sex. It was eight years previously, their second date, and she had promised herself that she was going to take it slow with this guy. She thought she might actually really like him and so the grown-up thing (because of course she was a grown-up now, at twenty years old) would be to wait, at least until the fifth date – that seemed appropriate.
    But he had invited her back to his place after the movie and she had agreed, trying to convince herself that she really was going there for a cup of coffee and also attempting not to show how excited she was to be dating an older guy who actually had his own place. They had been breathlessly kissing on the couch for an entire thirty minutes and every now and then his hand would creep deliciously along her thigh or down the side of her top, just tracing the rounded edge of her breasts. He had suddenly whispered in her ear, ‘Shall I grab a condom then?’
    And she had frozen, unsure of how to respond. She had been enjoying herself tremendously for the past half an hour. But she had been looking forward to leaving him that night, filled with anticipation for their next date, both of them going to their own beds, flushed with desperate longing for one another and lingering over the perfect ending to a somewhat respectable second date.
    As she had wondered how to respond without hurting his feelings, a thought struck her. If she said no to his question, would he take that as a no to having sex, or a no to using a condom? Imagine if she had unprotected sex, just because he misinterpreted her response! Feeling flustered and deciding she had no other option, she whispered back a nervous yes.
    Later that night, as they lay on his bed, her head resting on his chest with his arm curled around her, he had told her how glad he was that she, like him, hadn’t wanted to wait any longer and she had nodded her agreement and kept the secret buried inside. The first time I had sex with my husband was due to my fear of a misunderstanding.
    Still, that had all worked out in the end, hadn’t it? They’d been together now eight years, married for four and had two children together. So what did it matter that she’d slept with him on the second date instead of the fifth? Silly, really.
    And she almost laughed at herself as she thought of her twenty-year-old self, lying in that messy bedroom in that apartment in the middle of Leichhardt, earnestly promising herself that next time , she would wait. Obviously there hadn’t been another next time. The laughter dried up as it touched the air though, as she thought about how much she had changed since that day. What had happened to that crazy, quirky girl who had sex with boys because she didn’t want them to misunderstand what she said and had dinner at a different Italian restaurant almost every second night on Norton Street with her new, older boyfriend?
    Why are you even thinking about this stuff? You’re happy with Liam. You love him fiercely and you love your new life with your two children even more, right?
    Okay, so why doesn’t it feel better?
    Because you’re just having the three-day baby blues a bit late, that’s all.
    And what if it’s more than that?
    And she forced herself to think about the one thing that had been worrying her since the day she had brought Ethan home from the hospital and everything that had at first seemed so perfect so quickly fell to pieces. Why aren’t I feeling anything for Ethan like I did for Gracie when she was born? It wasn’t that everything had been easy with Gracie –