Part 31 (2/2)

”How can you know that?”

”My wife got pregnant a few years ago and I was completely opposed.”

Despite what I had told him previously, I actually felt a pang of disappointment that he did not want children with me. Did I want to give up the choice?

”Tell me about your friend.” I asked.

”She was successful like you. She had a good career, a regular boyfriend who she lived with. She didnt want children until in her mid-thirties - she accidentally got pregnant. Once she faced a real choice her feelings started to change. And who could blame her?” he asked.

”How do you mean?” I said.

”Well, it dawned on her this might be her only chance to be a mother. Did she want to miss that chance?”

”I have thought about this, Mike. I dont want children.”

”But have you ever been pregnant, Penny?”

When he asked that question, the argument began to affect me. I paused trying to imagine what it would be like to have a child growing inside me. When I considered the question in the abstract I was sure of my feelings, but when I asked myself how I would feel aborting Mikes child it affected me differently. Could I do that?

”No, I havent,” I finally answered.

”What will happen if you get pregnant and I dont want it?”

His questions were beginning to deeply unsettle me and I started to feel emotional.

”I cant say, Mike!”

”Thats what worries me,” he continued. ”It could tear us apart. If you want a child and I dont, our relations.h.i.+p wont survive.”

”But dont you love me?”

He smiled broadly.

”Yes but I dont want to be a dad in my 70s. I really dont.”

”What did your friend do?”

”She had the child. The relations.h.i.+p with her boyfriend broke up soon after. Now they hate each other with a vengeance. They both feel the other betrayed them. She thought hed change when the child was born. He never forgave her for ignoring his feelings. She never forgave him for leaving.”

”So whatre you saying? You want to break up?”

”No, no, no! I want to treasure this for as long as possible and that means being realistic. Our relations.h.i.+p probably wont survive the birth of a child. Is it a good idea to marry?”

I did not respond.

”Ill live with you but if you want children then Im going to bow out so you can fulfil your dream. I cant stand in the way of that.”

I pondered this strange proposal. When I was young I imagined that all serious relations.h.i.+ps operated on the basis of unending commitment. I was not sure what to think.

”Tell you what,” he continued again. ”If you reach the menopause and were still together, Ill marry you!”

I gave a short chuckle. Romantic this was not, but that was Mike through and through.

”Okay. Ill think about it.”

And with that, we arrived home, went into the kitchen and made two cups of cocoa. We chatted more in front of the TV and caught a late night film, then went upstairs. For the first time since wed started sharing a bed we did not make love before going to sleep. Even though wed talked about the possibility of breaking up, this was the clearest indication Id had that we were going to have a long-term relations.h.i.+p. Moments later I felt one of his arms around me as he kissed my neck and said ”goodnight”. The future was still full of possibilities.

Chapter 44.

Elonas move into the flat with Mike was problematic at first. I dropped in a couple of times to check how things were. As part of his professional development, I asked Phil to make some visits to see how she was progressing. Normally we would not visit so much, but given her precarious state, I felt we should visit daily. It took two weeks for her to feel strong enough to return to work. When she did, my professional worries receded.

When I had been at her parents shop and heard her torrent of abuse, she accused me of bullying her. As a result, I decided to visit her when Mike went out with his drinking pals. We started to have chats in the evening at home and at work during lunch breaks. I was trying to build her confidence, not just to learn about her, but also to learn about myself. Was I a bully? Mike sometimes joked that I could be, a by-product of my strength of character. He had not seen me when I felt weak and feeble (the way John had seen me). I told him I was not always strong but he would not believe it.

Elona, on the other hand, turned out to be strong in ways Id not realised. We talked about her upbringing. There was no weekend in her family, just a Sunday and Wednesday afternoon when the shop closed. Her parents were committed Christians and they arranged for her aunt to take her to Sunday school each week. Brownies and Guides followed and she talked of the many skills she had developed, but also the scriptures and morality that affected her freedom.

Even as a grown up, her parents disapproved of her drinking in pubs and when the situation erupted at work they felt deeply ashamed. Instead of showing sympathy, they chided her for getting mixed up with a ”bad crowd”. They would tell her that in the 'devil world of 'G.o.dless people, people pursued each other for s.e.x and treated each other disrespectfully. I listened as much as I could, judged as little as I could, and avoided the temptation to get angry with either her or her parents. Instead, I started to wonder how she had turned out so 'normal despite her upbringing.

My parents had been liberal in their att.i.tudes, especially my father. Elonas father was protective and would never let her go to parties. Both my father and mother allowed me to have male friends, to take them up to my room, play music, chat and talk. Sometimes I would get keen on a boy and still my parents would not interfere, although my mother would tell me what I should and should not do. More than once that led to us having a fight. Even so, my voice was heard and s.e.x talk was commonplace in our house.

If I had a boy with me they would knock on my bedroom door. My room was a private s.p.a.ce to do as I pleased. Elona, on the other hand, was not allowed to bring boys into the house without the permission of her father - upstairs was strictly out of bounds even after she reached the age of 18. They did not even let her take girlfriends upstairs. When I asked her how she got to know boys, she simply said that she had not been able to. Private conversations with boys were not allowed in her house one or other parent had to be present.

Att.i.tudes to s.e.x or more accurately, those of our parents - could not have been more different. I can still remember my parents telling me on my 16th birthday that if I wanted boys to stay over they would be allowed to sleep with me if I wished. I remember only mild embarra.s.sment at their openness, and confessed to them that sometimes I had sneaked a boyfriend into my room in the middle of the night. They admitted that they knew but chose not to say anything. We laughed as stories came out of hiding and got aired for the first time. I remember feeling grateful, rather than relieved, at their att.i.tude.

Elona, on the other hand felt embarra.s.sed if her parents even hinted at s.e.x. Even at work, she would walk away if she heard crude conversations. Some women deliberately excluded her. Others picked on her and ridiculed her prudishness. But in talking to me, she gradually opened up and admitted that she had been buying romance novels for years. Privately she l.u.s.ted after the kind of life that was described in them but never imagined she could ever be part of it. She fantasised about this other world, this strange morality where people could express themselves freely. When the young lads at work invited her to the pub, and showed interest in her, she was bursting with curiosity.

There was something tragic in hearing her story. She was a young woman trying to navigate the minefield of courts.h.i.+p armed only with knowledge from romance novels. She imagined bold heroines aggressively seducing their prey, or meek wallflowers schooled in the art of attracting 'real men. When Nathan took a s.h.i.+ne to her, he triggered all the feelings she was harbouring. When he rebuffed her, she felt bitter, betrayed and misled.

I tried to rea.s.sure her that experience had to be gained first hand. You could not rely on what was written in books. As I talked, it was as if I was also talking to myself. I shared with her my boldest adventures. While I had no inhibitions about my body, when it came to my mind, thoughts and feelings I was even more inhibited than Elona. Through her candid confessions to me, I found yet another avenue to release the pain and hurt of the past. Before I realised it, I was learning again from someone years my junior, and our friends.h.i.+p gave her a way to compare her fantasy world to the reality of my life.

As for Mike, he gradually opened up about his marriage and I learnt that his kids were the princ.i.p.al reason he had remained for so long. They mattered to him and he felt the pleasures that came from fatherhood and family life outweighed any problems in his relations.h.i.+p with his wife. He did admit too that, despite the problems, he found his wife attractive and their argumentative relations.h.i.+p spiced up their s.e.x life. But since the fall out over Sally he had returned home only to be with his children. His wife never forgave him for giving financial support to another woman. Mike joked that if he had lied and said it was 'just s.e.x his marriage might have survived. It was the financial betrayal that killed it.

I switched the conversation back to Elona.

”You are good for her, you know!” I told him. ”If shed had a father like you, she might have grown up very differently.”

”And a mother like you, perhaps?” he retorted.

A mother like me! At hearing those words, I felt a shudder. His comment started a chain of thoughts that still haunts me. I started to get a sense of just how important parents are and the huge responsibility they bear. Was my hostility to motherhood another way of avoiding responsibility? These questions troubled me.

As I watched Mike and learnt about each new layer of his character, I found new depths in myself. I started to realise new things that I had been missing that the ephemeral materialism of corporate life, the transient consumerism pressed on us by the media, was not important. I found that there was nothing more fascinating or more pleasurable than getting to know people well. Corporate life was not a reason for being, it was a means. It was a setting in which our lives unravelled, but was not life itself. The media was not reality, it was a place where vanity ran amok, where those obsessed with self-importance told us how to live our lives. Their stories which had for two decades been a source of entertainment and amus.e.m.e.nt to me started to lose their standing. In their place, conversations with real people flourished to the point that my television became just another piece of furniture.

I cast my mind over my life with my mother and father. Before the arguments of my teenage years, my mother told me stories. I had loved s...o...b.. Doo and rather than watch videos again and again, she would make up new adventures on the spur of the moment. In them, she and I would join the gang and solve our own mysteries.

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