Valentine’s Day is in two days.
We sit down, and Elaine lets out a sigh. “I think I’ve been hibernating for a really long time.”
“What do you mean, hibernating?” I ask.
“I mean . . . ,” she says, pausing. “Sometimes we can just go through the motions in life. We pick up the dry cleaning and go to our kids’ soccer games and put a new box of tissue on the bedside table. We do it all again and again.” A tear falls from her eye. “Jane, I’ve been doing this for so long. I’ve been so numb for so long. Living a seemingly happy life, but not being truly present in it. Not
feeling
any of it. Hibernating. And then”—she pauses to wipe a tear away—“something woke me up. And, Jane, I’m scared.”
I reach for her hand under the table and squeeze it tightly. “Elaine, you can talk to me about this. Just let it out.”
She nods, just as Matthew walks in. “Hey, you two,” he chirps. “Jane, I’m about to come over to see you.” He wraps his arms around Elaine’s shoulders and gives her a squeeze. “Got to order this beautiful wife of mine her yearly two dozen roses.”
Elaine forces a smile. I can tell that whatever she was about to tell me hasn’t hit Matthew’s radar.
“Here’s the thing, Jane,” he says, giving Elaine a quick shoulder rub. “When you’ve been married as long as we have, there’s not much point in the element of surprise.”
I smile, but I can see fresh tears in Elaine’s eyes.
“I should get back,” she says, composing herself. “We’re slammed with Valentine’s Day prep.”
We both look up when the door to the bakery opens and a familiar face appears. “Mary,” I say, waving.
“Oh, hi,” she says, grinning.
“You remember my friend Elaine and her husband, Matthew, right?”
“Of course,” Mary says. “And, Elaine, I have to tell you, I’ve developed quite a craving for your black-bottom cupcakes.”
Elaine smiles. “It’s funny you should say that. I was just talking to a woman this morning who is thirty-nine weeks pregnant, and she says she’s eaten one every day for the entirety of her third trimester. And she’s as thin as a rail; go figure.”
Mary looks at me, then back at Elaine, and smiles knowingly.
“Wait,” I say. “Mary, you’re not . . .”
“Pregnant?” She is radiant, and yet there’s a flicker of sadness in her eyes too. “No. Impossible. But Eli’s coming for a quick visit next month, so it’s possible.”
Elaine walks behind the counter and returns with a small box of cupcakes. “For good luck,” she says. “Come back anytime. We’ll keep that future baby adequately fed on butter and sugar.”
Mary grins as she stands to leave. “Thank you.”
“Jane,” Elaine says, retying her apron strings. “Let’s catch up later.”
“Sure,” I say, catching her eye. I remember the connection I saw between her and Charles, the new neighbor who came over on Christmas Day.
Matthew watches as his wife slips back behind the counter, then turns to me. “Mind if I follow you back to the shop and get those flowers ordered for Elaine?”
“Of course,” I say, and we walk together to the door. The air outside is crisp, and the market is bustling. I confide in Matthew about my fears about Eli, how he hasn’t been home in months.
He frowns. “I just don’t get how a person can be that selfish, how someone could throw away such a beautiful life in search of greener pastures.”
In that moment I think of Charles. I think of Elaine’s hesitation this morning. Matthew is like a man standing on a hill on a calm, sunny day, unaware of the dark storm cloud creeping up behind him. I feel a pang of sadness for him. The atmosphere is changing, and he isn’t prepared for a new environment.
Back at the flower shop, I help him with his usual order of roses. “Do you think she’s happy?” he asks. His face is still, thoughtful. There’s concern in his eyes.
“Elaine, you mean?”
He nods and scratches
We sit down, and Elaine lets out a sigh. “I think I’ve been hibernating for a really long time.”
“What do you mean, hibernating?” I ask.
“I mean . . . ,” she says, pausing. “Sometimes we can just go through the motions in life. We pick up the dry cleaning and go to our kids’ soccer games and put a new box of tissue on the bedside table. We do it all again and again.” A tear falls from her eye. “Jane, I’ve been doing this for so long. I’ve been so numb for so long. Living a seemingly happy life, but not being truly present in it. Not
feeling
any of it. Hibernating. And then”—she pauses to wipe a tear away—“something woke me up. And, Jane, I’m scared.”
I reach for her hand under the table and squeeze it tightly. “Elaine, you can talk to me about this. Just let it out.”
She nods, just as Matthew walks in. “Hey, you two,” he chirps. “Jane, I’m about to come over to see you.” He wraps his arms around Elaine’s shoulders and gives her a squeeze. “Got to order this beautiful wife of mine her yearly two dozen roses.”
Elaine forces a smile. I can tell that whatever she was about to tell me hasn’t hit Matthew’s radar.
“Here’s the thing, Jane,” he says, giving Elaine a quick shoulder rub. “When you’ve been married as long as we have, there’s not much point in the element of surprise.”
I smile, but I can see fresh tears in Elaine’s eyes.
“I should get back,” she says, composing herself. “We’re slammed with Valentine’s Day prep.”
We both look up when the door to the bakery opens and a familiar face appears. “Mary,” I say, waving.
“Oh, hi,” she says, grinning.
“You remember my friend Elaine and her husband, Matthew, right?”
“Of course,” Mary says. “And, Elaine, I have to tell you, I’ve developed quite a craving for your black-bottom cupcakes.”
Elaine smiles. “It’s funny you should say that. I was just talking to a woman this morning who is thirty-nine weeks pregnant, and she says she’s eaten one every day for the entirety of her third trimester. And she’s as thin as a rail; go figure.”
Mary looks at me, then back at Elaine, and smiles knowingly.
“Wait,” I say. “Mary, you’re not . . .”
“Pregnant?” She is radiant, and yet there’s a flicker of sadness in her eyes too. “No. Impossible. But Eli’s coming for a quick visit next month, so it’s possible.”
Elaine walks behind the counter and returns with a small box of cupcakes. “For good luck,” she says. “Come back anytime. We’ll keep that future baby adequately fed on butter and sugar.”
Mary grins as she stands to leave. “Thank you.”
“Jane,” Elaine says, retying her apron strings. “Let’s catch up later.”
“Sure,” I say, catching her eye. I remember the connection I saw between her and Charles, the new neighbor who came over on Christmas Day.
Matthew watches as his wife slips back behind the counter, then turns to me. “Mind if I follow you back to the shop and get those flowers ordered for Elaine?”
“Of course,” I say, and we walk together to the door. The air outside is crisp, and the market is bustling. I confide in Matthew about my fears about Eli, how he hasn’t been home in months.
He frowns. “I just don’t get how a person can be that selfish, how someone could throw away such a beautiful life in search of greener pastures.”
In that moment I think of Charles. I think of Elaine’s hesitation this morning. Matthew is like a man standing on a hill on a calm, sunny day, unaware of the dark storm cloud creeping up behind him. I feel a pang of sadness for him. The atmosphere is changing, and he isn’t prepared for a new environment.
Back at the flower shop, I help him with his usual order of roses. “Do you think she’s happy?” he asks. His face is still, thoughtful. There’s concern in his eyes.
“Elaine, you mean?”
He nods and scratches
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