No periods, no childbirth and no menopause!
Men have it so much easier than women, thought Rebecca MacRitchie as she stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around herself and glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Take her husband, Hugh, for instance. Although thirteen years her senior, his grey hair made him look distinguished; all hers did was keep her hairdresser in designer dresses. Her daughter, Paige, had tried to reassure her that grey hair was all the rage—apparently some young women were actually dyeing their hair silver. It was nonsensical! Surely they’d be regretting that decision later when their first actual grey hair sprouted on their head.
Young women and all men, none of them knew how lucky they were.
Geez, Rebecca, you sound like you’re ninety, not fifty.
But it was true. Following a quick shower, Hugh had thrown on his black dinner suit without much fuss and was currently downstairs, no doubt with his feet up in front of the TV watching sport on Foxtel. Whereas a shower was only the beginning of Rebecca’s preparation.
She still had to blow-dry her hair, carefully apply her make-up to hide her ever-increasing multitude of wrinkles and pick out a dress that didn’t accentuate her middle-aged spread. Normally Rebecca loved nothing better than dressing up, but tonight she was weary and everything simply felt like too much effort.
‘Pull yourself together,’ she told her reflection. If any night required her best effort this was it!
A shot of excitement fizzed through her at the prospect of what was to come. Tonight was Paige’s big night and Rebecca wasn’t about to let the odd hot flush or a little bit of dizziness ruin it for either of them. She’d down a cocktail of Berocca and Panadol before they left and she’d be fine.
Forcing herself out of the en suite and into the bedroom, she chose an eighties playlist on Spotify and put her phone on the speaker dock beside the bed. Her favourite tunes from her teenage years never failed to lift her spirits and would surely help get her out of the funk she’d been in these last few days.
Molly, their black labrador, who’d been lazing on the floor by the bed, looked up briefly as Cindi Lauper’s voice filled the air, then promptly dropped her head back onto her paws.
‘You don’t know how easy your life is,’ Rebecca told her as she went to select some underwear. She rubbed the towel over her body, trying not to think about how soft it was nowadays. Hugh said there was just more of her to cuddle and he’d love her even if she grew to three times her current size, but that didn’t make her feel any better. Discarding the towel on the end of the bed, she pulled on a pair of lace knickers—feel-good underwear had always been important to her. But when she reached for the matching bra, she realised her dress would dictate which bra she could wear and she still hadn’t decided on her outfit.
Bugger it. With a sigh, she went into her walk-in robe and stared at the row of outfits. Did tonight’s celebration call for ruffles or lace? Soft florals or bright prints? Something flowing or something fitted? A dress or a jumpsuit? Usually Rebecca dressed according to mood—one day she’d be a pencil-skirt-and-heels kind of woman, the next day she’d look completely bohemian in colourful floor-length dresses, boots and long, dangly earrings. Hugh would laugh if she told him she had nothing to wear, but the problem tonight was she couldn’t quite put her finger on how she felt. She berated herself for leaving this important decision to the last minute—Paige’s book launch had been scheduled for months. But then again, until a couple of days ago, Rebecca hadn’t known that the launch wouldn’t be the only thing they were celebrating.
She smiled at the recollection of Solomon arriving on their doorstep, looking handsome as always but rubbing the back of his neck and blinking as if agitated.
‘What a lovely surprise,’ she’d said to her daughter’s boyfriend as she’d opened the door. But then she’d noticed his worried expression and her heart had slammed up to her throat. ‘Oh, Sol, is everything okay?’
For a moment she’d feared something had happened to Paige.
He nodded rapidly. ‘Yes. I mean, I think so. I hope so. Can I come in?’
‘Of course. You know you’re always welcome here.’ Rebecca pulled him into a hug and then ushered him inside. ‘Can I get you a drink? A beer? Coffee? Milo?’
At that point Hugh had poked his head into the hallway from the living room. ‘Sol, mate. Good to see you. Is Paige with you?’
‘Uh … no. She’s … um …’ Solomon, always confident and well spoken, seemed at a loss for words.
‘She’s teaching one of her art classes tonight, honey,’ Rebecca informed her husband.
‘Right. Well, to what do we owe the pleasure?’ Hugh liked Solomon too—occasionally the two of them went to a footy game together, thankfully they both barracked for the Swans—but those occasions were always prearranged and Rebecca couldn’t remember another time Sol had arrived on their doorstep unannounced and without their daughter.
Solomon shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. ‘I know Paige and I haven’t been going out for that long …’
‘Haven’t you?’ Hugh frowned. ‘Feels like a bloody long time to me.’
Rebecca smiled. ‘Almost two years.’
Solomon nodded. ‘And I know I’m a bit older than her.’
‘Only a few years,’ Rebecca said.
This time Hugh chuckled. ‘I’m thirteen years older than Rebecca and we’ve done alright. Haven’t we, love?’
‘Let the boy speak,’ she said tersely, her heart suddenly light and impatient as she guessed what Solomon was about to say. Or rather ask.
‘Well, the bottom line is, you know how much I adore your daughter. She’s my best friend and also my …’ Solomon paused a moment. ‘Well, the absolute best person I know. I want to marry her and I was hoping you’d give us your blessing?’
Rebecca had burst into tears—happy ones—and yanked Solomon into another hug. Of course the answer was yes—not that she believed he needed their permission, but she couldn’t help thinking it sweet that he’d come seeking it.
Within seconds she felt Hugh wrapping his arms around them both and when he spoke, she could tell he was all choked up as well. ‘I didn’t think blokes still came to the parents first, but I appreciate you thinking of us, Sol.’
Solomon let out a relieved chuckle and the three of them disentangled. ‘She might not say yes.’ But his big grin told them he was positive she would.
And Rebecca was confident too. Until Solomon, Paige hadn’t had any serious relationships. Although there’d been plenty of boys chasing her, she was far more interested in pursuing her art and going in to bat for the disadvantaged, but from the moment Paige met Sol, she was a goner. They were perfect together—not only did they make a striking couple but they shared the same values, made each other laugh and you only had to look at them to see the chemistry between them.
Rebecca could always tell when they’d just had sex—it took a good while after for Paige’s post-coital glow to diminish—and she felt such satisfaction and contentment that her daughter had a beautiful sex life. She supposed most mothers didn’t like thinking about their daughters doing the horizontal mambo. Her own would have preferred she’d stayed a virgin until she was thirty-five.
But finding someone you were both intellectually and sexually compatible with was like winning the relationship lottery. Rebecca felt confident Paige and Sol had all the ingredients for a successful, happy life together and she couldn’t help being excited at the prospect of a wedding. There’d be so much to organise; Paige would look stunning in practically any style of dress, but what fun they’d have together searching for one.
At the thought of a dress, Rebecca remembered why she was standing in her walk-in robe practically naked. She needed to get a move on or they’d be late.
Finally, she picked out two dresses and laid them out on the bed. One was a black lace knee-length number—the menopausal woman’s equivalent of a little black dress—and the other, a maxi dress, in all the colours of the rainbow. But which one would work better tonight? The bright multi-coloured gown was fun and would suit the occasion but she didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself when it wasn’t her night. The black dress might be better, but then again, she didn’t want to look like she was going to a funeral.
Why is this so difficult?
She fought a yawn and, although excited for the evening ahead, couldn’t help thinking how welcoming her bed looked. It was not even six o’clock and already she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
At the sound of Hugh whistling as he padded up the stairs, she snatched her towel back off the end of the bed and covered her nakedness. The last thing she needed right now was him getting frisky.
‘You almost ready, honey?’ he asked as he appeared in the doorway.
She gestured to the bed. ‘I can’t decide between these two dresses.’
Hugh frowned as he looked from black to rainbow and back again. ‘They’re both nice.’
‘Nice? I want to look more than bloody nice. Tonight is important. It’s not every night your daughter gets engaged.’
‘Or launches a book.’ Hugh winked, then took a step towards her and put a hand against her arm. ‘Are you okay? You look a little off-colour.’
Truth was, Rebecca hadn’t been feeling herself for a few weeks now; she’d been off her food—very unlike her—and had found herself short of breath every time she trekked upstairs. ‘I’m just tired.’
‘Perhaps you need to slow down a little. Cut back on your charity work or reduce your number of students. And maybe you should go see a doctor, you might be low on iron or something.’
‘I like being busy. But I’m going to make an appointment with Dr Bell next week. I think I might be menopausal.’
‘Ah.’ Hugh’s lips slowly curved into a smile and he nodded. ‘That makes sense.’
It might make sense but it didn’t mean she had to like it. ‘It’s not funny. I’ll probably turn into a nightmare to live with. Hot flushes, mood swings, you’re in for a real treat.’
‘I’m sure I’ll cope.’ He dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘Now, is there anything I can do to help you get ready? We don’t want to be late. Just think, when Paige and Sol get married, we’ll finally have the son we always wanted.’
At his words, Rebecca’s stomach quivered uncomfortably and she thought of the son she could have had. Hugh would have liked a house full of children, but Rebecca hadn’t done pregnancy or early motherhood well. Being pregnant, going through almost twenty-four hours of back-breaking labour with Paige had awakened painful memories and led to postpartum depression.
She couldn’t bear the prospect of going through all that again, so had decided against any more children.
‘Yes.’ Rebecca focused once again on the present as she forced a smile for her husband. ‘I’m so happy for Paige and Solomon. You choose which dress, I’ll quickly do my hair and make-up, and then, let’s get this show on the road.’