The second Christmas without William is almost over, and Rose is relieved. Holidays, she knows, make the past present in unexpected ways and she was worried, in particular, about Kathleen. She knows she feels William’s absence keenly. She hears her crying in the shower, sees the sadness in her mouth. She’s been struggling in school. But today has been pleasant. Just the three of them for the morning, then her family in the afternoon and now William’s family for a late supper. Just like always.
Nancy brought back gifts from London for the children, including a jigsaw puzzle of Big Ben, which the children poured out onto the kitchen table and are now working on, trying to get the outside edges complete before they have to leave. Nancy brought Rose some beautiful Liberty fabric. So, tell me, Rose says, unfolding the fabric on the cleared dining room table, wondering what to make out of it. A skirt, perhaps? Something for Kathleen? Tell me about this wedding.
It was simply lovely, Nancy says. I wasn’t sure what to expect, of course, and I’ve never met the woman, you know, but really, it was. I do hope the marriage lasts. Rose nods. Before Nancy had gone, she’d talked on and on about the foolishness of this woman marrying yet again. She seems to be seeing it differently now. What was she like? Rose asks. Was she what you expected?
Nancy considers this. Yes, she says, and no. It’s odd to meet someone in person after knowing them only through their words. She was nice, but tough. Tougher than I would have thought. A little rough around the edges, perhaps. Gerald laughs. What did you expect, he says. Didn’t you live here with Bea all those years? Where do you think that came from? Well, I know, Nancy says. But Bea is more sophisticated, I think. Smarter. All those years, Gerald says again. Must be your influence. Rose laughs, and Nancy sticks out her tongue at Gerald. Now stop that, she says. It’s not nice to tease an old lady.
Did it make you think you might get married again? Gerald asks his mother, glancing at Rose with a smile in his eyes. Oh, heavens, Gerald, what a thought, Nancy says. Of course not. Rose knows that’s true. She can’t imagine Nancy remarrying. She has a hard enough time thinking of it for herself, although that’s all her friends and family seem to think about. They’ve fixed her up over and over again, to no avail. She’s not interested. It seems too complicated, with the children and all.
And you? Rose asks, turning to Gerald. Nice time? Yes, he says, his eyes on the table, his neck turning red. The wedding was lovely. And then he looks Rose in the eyes, and she knows. He’s in love with this Bea. Next it’ll be your turn, Nancy says, oblivious to what’s transpiring between Rose and Gerald. Oh, Rose replies, I don’t think so, then realizes that Nancy’s talking about traveling. I’ve never been anywhere, really. Maybe when the children get older. I would like to go to Paris someday. William loved it there.
How’s the job? Gerald asks, and she can tell he’s desperate to talk about anything else. I like it, Rose says, and she does. She’s working in the offices of a state senator. It’s close to home and to the children’s school. She worried, at first, that she wouldn’t be able to handle it all. What if the children got sick? What if she needed to pick them up early? The first few weeks were stressful. Often dinner ended with all three of them in tears. But since then, it’s gotten easier. It’s fast-paced work, and now that she’s got the hang of it, she feels good about it. People depend on her there. They know she’ll get the job done. Senator McIntyre even patted her on the shoulder the other day, telling her she was doing a great job. A great job! She caught herself smiling on the walk home.
I want to hear more about your trip, she says. Did you leave London at all? No, Nancy says. We just stayed put. I liked all the pomp and circumstance, the Changing of the Guard and all that. But Gerald and Bea walked and walked and walked. And what was that museum you liked so much, Gerald? The war museum? Gerald nods. The Imperial War Museum, he says. Just fascinating.
Rose laughs. That’s such a Gerald thing to like, she says. Really. Can you imagine how much fun William would be making of you right now if he heard that? Gerald’s face closes in slightly, and Rose cringes inside but then Gerald laughs, leaning back in his chair. Yes, he says. He would be merciless about it. Wouldn’t understand why I wouldn’t spend all my time in the Tate, the V&A. Different strokes, Nancy says. The two of you were oil and water. I knew that if one of you liked something, the other would hate it. It was so predictable.
I often wonder what would have happened, Gerald says, if we’d been able to get old together. Would we have found a common ground? Or would we have fought until the bitter end? People don’t really change, Nancy says, and though Rose disagrees, she says nothing. Of course people change. Back when she was a teenager, she could not have imagined this life for herself. Even after William died, she wouldn’t have foreseen that she’d still be this close to his family a few years down the road. Or be holding down a real job. And yet here she is. When you look back, it’s so easy to see the path that you’ve traveled. But looking forward, there are only dreams and fears.
She looks up to see Gerald wiping some tears from his eyes. Even with the ribbing, he says, I do miss him. I wish he was here. Me, too, Rose says, standing to give him a hug. Me, too. So many things she would have done differently. Regret, she has found, is the loud thing that’s left.