Chapter 3

Sarah saw the family at dinner that night. The resort’s meals were part of the plan. A small dining room overlooked the ocean, but when Sarah arrived the sun had already set and outside the windows was blackness. As she settled in at the last open table, she was disheartened to see she again faced directly at the woman.

Beyond the family, a half wall divided the dining room from the kitchen. A chef in a white hat stood at a stove facing the diners. It was a nice touch for such a small resort. The dinner menu was limited, and at the moment the chef stood in one place stirring pots. He performed this simple task with energy and rhythm, like a drummer, and Sarah found his hands mesmerizing. A chair scraped, startling her.

The husband had dragged his seat next to his wife, so Sarah could see both their faces clearly. The woman’s was turned away from her husband’s, and her mouth was set in a line. The man took off his glasses and brushed his eyes, first with his hand, then with his napkin. The tables were close, close enough for Sarah to smell her rosewater perfume, close enough to hear every word despite the noisy room. From the slight slurring of the words and the woman’s flushed face, Sarah realized they were both a little drunk.

“I’m almost done with this one. Then it will be different. You’ll see.”

The man couldn’t see his wife roll her eyes, but Sarah could.

“Where have I heard that before?” the woman hissed back. “Do you really expect me to believe that when you say it every time? You are going nowhere. I won’t support you forever. You need a job.”

“I have a job.”

“Working part-time in a hospital x-ray file room is not a job. You don’t even get full benefits. Thank God I make a decent living. We have a mortgage now. We have a son.”

Their son sat in a high chair pushed close to the table next to his father. He appeared indifferent to the adults’ conversation, but his plate of food sat in front of him untouched, like his parents’. His foot swung back and forth, knocking against the table. Water sloshed from a too full glass, a small amount with each kick.

“You know the hospital is only temporary.”

“Temporary? You’ve been there five years. You need a real job.”

“I’m a writer. That’s a real job.”

The woman shook her head, then scoffed. “Not for you.”

The man took his wife’s hands and tried to turn her toward him. “Andrea, you know I can do it. I’ve done it.”

“That was ten years ago! And all you did was win a stupid contest. You couldn’t even get published. You can’t go on with this ridiculous dream. I can’t go on.”

Sarah shifted in her seat so she couldn’t see them. She studied the resort proprietor, who greeted diners as they entered. The wife’s voice rose and was hard to ignore.

“How do you think it feels to have to explain what you do? ‘My husband sorts x-rays three days a week, but just you watch, he’s going to make it big.’ You still make minimum wage. What must people think? Natalie’s husband is a banker. Nicole’s husband is an engineer. Those are real jobs.”

She paused and took a deep breath. Sarah took a deep breath.

“Yours is nothing.” The woman spat it out. These words were clear, not slurred at all.

Sarah flinched. She searched for somewhere else to look, anywhere other than the couple. She fastened her eyes on the chef, still stirring his pots. He was as near to them as Sarah, and he leaned slightly to hear the man’s soft voice.

“This book is different. This one is the one.”

The woman’s voice was soft now too. “We are not kids anymore. We have responsibilities. If it weren’t for your mother taking care of Ben, I would have left long ago. You’re never home and when you are, you’re writing. I have to do everything. You didn’t even know what size diapers to buy. I can’t believe I ever agreed to start a family while you persist in this pathetic pipedream.”

Sarah bent her head and busied herself breaking her roll into small pieces. When would her meal come?

“Andrea, please. So what if Nicole’s husband is an engineer? Remember when we were in college and we all went camping, and he brought his calculus book? You used to think he was a nerd.”

Her voice was tired. “I used to think a lot of things.”

“And right before Ben was born, when you made your chocolate mousse and he wouldn’t eat it because of the raw eggs? We laughed and laughed. Remember? We used to have such fun. When did you get so serious?”

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Her voice was loud again. “Anyway, that’s it. I’m done. I told you before we came on this miserable trip. I’m not staying.”

The boy kicked again, this time too hard. The glass teetered over and clunked onto their table. Water ran across the table and into his mother’s lap. She jumped up with a shriek.

The proprietor hurried over to help. He reached to blot the water from the woman’s lap with a large cloth napkin. She grabbed the napkin from his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she cried. “Don’t touch me!”

“Andrea, he was only trying to help,” her husband said.

“He’s not helping. Get him away from me!”

“Andrea, shh.”

“Don’t tell me to shh.” She turned on the man, but he was already backing away.

“Andrea, sit down, please.” The woman’s husband stood and took her hands again.

Two children dashed past them, and their parents hollered from across the room. Another table burst into “Happy Birthday.” Sarah doubted anyone else knew what was happening in this corner.

“I love you, Andrea. We can make this work,” the man pleaded.

“Too late. I told you it was too late, and I meant it.”

“I love you. I love our life together. I love everything about you, your brain, your smile, your beauty, your humor. I always have and I always will.”

“You are not living in reality,” she said. She yanked her hands out of his, so forcefully that she fell to the side. Her husband was there in a flash, arms around her, holding her steady.

Sarah thought this might be it, that this instinctive reaction of kindness and caring would be the trigger for the woman to relent. The couple stood for a moment together. Sarah held her breath.

The woman broke free and strode toward the door.

“Andrea!” The man rushed after her, then pivoted back toward the boy, who slumped in the high chair with his head on his chest, his feet still.

The man caught Sarah’s eyes. She was so engrossed she hadn’t realized she was staring. She averted her eyes guiltily, but the man approached her.

“Could you watch my boy?” The man’s little glasses were back on, and she couldn’t see his eyes very well. His tone was urgent. “I’m so sorry to ask—I’ll be right back. Could you watch my boy?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but just fled from the room.

As soon as his parents were out of the room, the boy began to scream.

“Mommmmmeeeee! Mommmmmeeeee!”

The loud dining room quieted now, and people twisted in their seats to see the boy. Sarah felt strangely embarrassed, as if this were her son screaming. And she felt horrible for the little thing. He couldn’t have been more than two. Maybe three. She shifted over to the chair next to him. He screamed even louder. He had piercing blue eyes that latched on to hers so she couldn’t look away.

“Shh, shh, there, there.” She unfastened his safety belt and lifted him out of his seat, slowly in case he was scared.

He wasn’t scared, and he actually clung to her tightly, still calling out for “Mommy, Mommy.” She held him close, shushing and there-there-ing. She didn’t know what else to do, but it seemed to work, and eventually the boy stopped yelling. She rocked him slowly back and forth. “Mommy, Mommy,” the boy kept saying, quietly now. Sarah gently stroked his soft hair.

This is what it feels like to have a child, Sarah thought. She knew that was ridiculous. There was a lot more to a child than the smell of baby shampoo, but this had to be one of the pluses. What she witnessed between the couple was definitely a minus. Sarah was twenty-eight years old and hadn’t yet considered having children. College, medical school, internship. The long hours left little time for thoughts of a family.

She sat with the boy a long time, maybe thirty minutes, maybe longer. Most of the other diners left. The boy fell asleep and Sarah didn’t want to wake him by standing. She wasn’t worried. His parents couldn’t have gone far because of the confines of the resort. She hoped they were talking. She felt quite relaxed sitting with this toddler in her lap. He had a dimple on one side that deepened as he smiled in his sleep. She was amazed at how adaptable he was, sleeping and smiling in a stranger’s arms.

“You have a wonderful way with kids. Do you have children?”

Sarah jumped and the boy stirred but didn’t wake. The chef stood beside Sarah. She hadn’t heard him walk up. He wiped his hands on a towel tucked into the strings of his white apron. He had very large hands, though he was not tall.

“No,” she said. “No children.”

“Pity.” His eyes lingered on Sarah. “Your black hair, green eyes, they’d be beautiful.”

This was certainly uncomfortable. He was quite a bit older than she, probably in his forties. He seemed perfectly presentable, albeit a little silly in the chef’s hat. If this was a pickup line, she didn’t want to be rude, but the way he said it didn’t seem like a come-on. In fact, without further conversation, he was gone.

No more than a minute later, the boy’s mother appeared. She rushed over to Sarah and snatched the sleeping child away. He woke, startled, then clutched his arms around his mother’s neck.

“What was your father thinking?” The stress was clear in her voice. “Thank you.”

Sarah nodded.

The woman hugged the boy and smoothed his hair. She turned to Sarah and rolled her eyes. “Men.”

Before Sarah could reply, she turned and left.