The Holiday Read online

  Sarah looks at Caroline for a few moments, and decides it is safer not to respond with the truth.

  What would Sarah change?

  Pretty much everything.

  They both jump as the side door closes and Eddie walks into the kitchen.

  ‘Hi, Caroline!’ he says. He’s always liked Caroline, likes how sensible she is, how down-to-earth and practical.

  ‘Hey, Eddie.’ She smiles at him and waves.

  ‘Hi, honey,’ Eddie says, walking over to Sarah and leaning down to kiss her cheek, something they are both doing for show, because there is someone else there.

  ‘How was your day?’ Sarah asks in a dull monotone, feeling like a parody of herself.

  ‘I’d better go.’ Caroline picks up her purse. ‘Thanks for a great evening, sweetie. I’ll call you tomorrow.’ With a final wave she’s gone.

  Sarah’s reading People magazine in bed when Eddie comes in.

  ‘How was book club?’ he asks, as he starts undressing.

  ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Good.’

  ‘You seem like you’ve had a bit to drink.’ Eddie grins, thinking that maybe tonight he might get lucky, before staggering toward the bed. He’s had a few beers too.

  Sarah lays the magazine down, with a sigh of exasperation. ‘Eddie, didn’t we talk about trying to cut down the amount you’ve been drinking?’ she says slowly, trying to control the anger in her voice.

  ‘What difference does it make to you if I’ve had a drink? So what? Anything else you’d like to criticize while you’re at it?’ Eddie throws his hands up in the air as he looks at her belligerently, before turning to weave into the bathroom with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Forget it,’ he spits. ‘Just forget it.’

  Five minutes later Sarah calls out, ‘Did you call the contractor today about the wall?’ She lays the magazine down and waits for Eddie’s answer, eventually pushing back the covers and walking into the bathroom herself.

  Eddie has been meaning to call the contractor for weeks. Sarah keeps nagging him to call, wants the wall between the kitchen and family room taken down as soon as possible, but he keeps forgetting.

  He could lie, he figures, looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, debating what to say. It would be so much easier to say he left a message, but in the time he’s trying to figure out the lie, he knows Sarah knows.

  Eddie shuffles his feet, feeling like a guilty child, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He hates this feeling, hates not living up to her expectations, yet all he seems to do these days is let her down.

  He sees the way she looks at him when he walks around the bedroom naked. He knows what she’s saying when she asks him if he’s been to the gym recently. Does Sarah think he hasn’t noticed himself, hasn’t realized how much weight he’s put on? His pants are all straining at the seams, his stomach resting over the top as he hoists them up all day long. When he shaves in the bathroom in the morning he no longer looks at his entire face but focuses on the razor, or looks into his eyes, so as not to see the increasing chins.

  He resolves, on a daily basis, to get back in shape again, to get fit, stop the beer, go back to the gym. He even bought a new pair of trainers, but work is so busy, so stressful, that all he wants to do when he gets home is stretch out on the sofa and forget about everything.

  He comes home later and later because the atmosphere between he and Sarah has been so unbearable of late. He comes home later and later to try to avoid yet another fight. He has become a barfly – joining colleagues after work in one of the neighborhood bars, just a few beers before heading home.

  He sees how unhappy Sarah is, and were he more enlightened, he would realize how unhappy he is, but Eddie merely drowns out his feelings and wishes that somehow, magically, things would go back to being the way they used to be.

  And, no. He still didn’t call the contractor. Sarah enters the bathroom, filling Eddie with dread, and shame, and anger. He shakes his head.

  ‘There’s a surprise,’ she says sarcastically. ‘You forgot again.’

  Eddie snaps. ‘Do you have any idea how busy I am at work?’ he says, his voice rising into a shout. ‘You’re always nagging me to do this, do that, but you have no idea what kind of a day I have at work, how there just isn’t time to do these things. Why don’t you call the contractor, for Christ’s sake? It’s not like you have a job. You’re at home all the time doing nothing. You could damn well call him.’

  ‘Oh, I see –’ Sarah’s mouth drops open in amazement – ‘I’m at home all the time, doing … what? Reading? Meeting the girls for lunch? Sunbathing in the backyard? You keep going on about how busy you are but what about what I do? I’m with the kids all day and when I’m not I’m cleaning up this house, doing your laundry and making sure your life runs smoothly. I barely ask you to do anything, and the one thing I ask you to do you can’t even manage because you’re too goddamned lazy…’ Her voice rises into a shout.

  ‘Don’t call me lazy!’ Eddie yells. ‘How dare you call …’ And they stop as they hear a cry from the corridor.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ mutters Sarah. ‘Great. Now you’ve woken Walker.’ And then, as she walks out to see to her son, under her breath, ‘Asshole.’

  ‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ She sits on the bed and cradles Walker. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’ she asks hopefully.

  ‘No. You and Daddy were shouting,’ Walker says, tears streaming down his face. ‘Why were you shouting?’

  ‘Sometimes grown-ups shout at one another,’ Sarah says, flooded with guilt. ‘Sometimes we get angry at each other just like you and Maggie get angry. But it doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes you have to shout to make everything better. Remember when you and Tyler had that fight and you didn’t speak for a while and now you’re best friends again?’ Walker nods. ‘Daddy and I had a little fight; that’s all.’

  ‘So are you friends again?’ Walker says, eyes huge and scared.

  ‘Of course we are.’ Sarah hugs him.

  ‘No.’ Walker pulls away. ‘That’s too quick. You have to not be friends for a while and then you can be friends again.’

  Sounds like a plan to me, thinks Sarah, but she just squeezes Walker tight. ‘We are friends.’

  Sarah tucks him in and gives him a kiss good night, quietly walking out to the hallway. As she softly closes the bedroom door, Walker calls out, ‘Mommy? Do you still love Daddy?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ she says, the words sounding hollow, even to her.

  ‘I don’t,’ Walker says suddenly, as Sarah comes back into his bedroom.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ she says. ‘Sometimes you might not feel that you love him, or you might be angry with him, but you do love him, and he loves you.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ Walker says calmly. ‘But that’s okay, Mommy, because we love each other, don’t we? You’re my best friend in the whole world.’

  ‘And you’re my best friend in the whole world.’ She blinks the tears away from her eyes as Walker snuggles up with his Power Ranger. ‘Now go to sleep.’

  When Sarah gets back to her room Eddie is asleep, but she is too wired to sleep now. Should she tell him what Walker just said? The likelihood is he wouldn’t believe it anyway, would think Sarah was just using it as ammunition to hurt him, but didn’t he have a right to know the effects of his not spending any time with his children? Shouldn’t he know the damage he’s causing?

  Sarah hasn’t got the energy for another fight. She’s only just got the energy to get through each day intact. She now knows what single parents must go through, how hard it must be, yet in some ways she thinks she has it harder because she has this added extra burden.

  Wouldn’t they all be so much better without him?

  Sarah imagines herself telling Eddie they’re leaving him. Imagines him drowning his sorrows in a sea of Sam Adams and Taco Bell burritos.

  Something in her won’t let her have that conversation – not yet. But something in her knows it’s just a matter o
f time, that when she reaches rock bottom she will have no other choice.

  It’s just a matter of time.

  Chapter Four

  ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about.’

  Sarah pauses, shrimp halfway to her mouth, as she looks at Eddie in alarm. Is this it? Is this how it’s going to happen? She finds herself waiting for him to tell her he’s having an affair, he’s leaving, half aware that it’s only wishful thinking, that it’s not actually going to happen like this, only in fact happens like this in the movies.

  The waiter comes over and asks if everything is okay, and Sarah forces an impatient smile as she nods. It’s not often they go out these days; she was surprised when Eddie had suggested they go to their favorite fish restaurant this Friday, surprised because it is so rare these days that the two of them go to dinner for no reason at all.

  She had arranged a baby-sitter, met Eddie at the train station, and now here they are, halfway through their shrimp cocktails, Eddie looking like he’s about to drop a bombshell.

  Sarah puts the shrimp back on the plate and raises an eyebrow in anticipation, waiting for him to go on.

  Eddie takes a deep breath. Good Lord, Sarah thinks. Maybe I am right. Maybe he is leaving. Simultaneous relief and dread cause her to catch her breath.

  ‘You know that building we’re buying in Chicago?’

  Sarah nods, although she doesn’t. They don’t tend to talk about work anymore. About anything anymore.

  ‘The whole thing’s become complicated. The lawyer in the Chicago office just left and they need a new project manager to take things over.’ Eddie looks at Sarah expectantly. ‘They want me to go.’

  ‘Right.’ She nods, waiting for him to continue.

  ‘I haven’t really got a choice,’ he says. ‘They’ve offered me the position in Chicago, and obviously it’s not really commutable, so …’ he trails off.

  ‘So you’re moving to Chicago?’

  ‘Well, that’s what we have to talk about,’ Eddie says. ‘I know you love this town,’ he says, ‘but Chicago’s a great city, and they’re putting a package together with all the information about schools, rentals, etc., etc. At this point they’re not sure whether it’s temporary or permanent, but we could realistically move out there by …’

  ‘Whoa –’ Sarah raises a hand – ‘let me just take this in. They want you to go to Chicago and you want us to come with you?’

  Eddie looks wounded. ‘Of course I want you to come with me. You’re my family.’

  This is it, she thinks, her heart pounding. It’s now or never. This is the hand of God, reaching down, finally, and showing her the exit route. She takes a deep breath, wondering how to say it, how it could be so hard to say when she has rehearsed this moment for weeks, for months.

  She thinks of all those long lonely nights lying in bed planning for her single future. She had the entire conversation mapped out in her head: she would tell him it was best for the children, and even though he might not be able to see it now, he would eventually realize that it was best for all of them. He deserved more happiness, she would say. They both deserved more happiness.

  ‘Eddie,’ she starts, all her preparation having flown out the window. ‘Do you really think it would be a good idea if we come?’

  Eddie looks confused for a moment. What is she trying to say? ‘Well, I guess I could work something out, maybe three days a week in Chicago and home for weekends –’

  ‘Eddie –’ Sarah stops him by placing a hand on his. This feels familiar. This scenario is turning into the one she had thought about, the one she had planned for. ‘Eddie,’ she says again, quietly. ‘Stop.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Do you have any idea how unhappy I am?’

  The blood drains from Eddie’s face.

  ‘Eddie,’ she says softly. ‘Do you remember what it was like when we were first married? How happy we were? How we used to make each other laugh? How we always used to say how lucky we were that we were each married to our best friend? When was the last time we laughed, Eddie? When was the last time we had any fun together? Or even talked, without it ending in a huge row, in us screaming at one another?’

  ‘Yes.’ Eddie says finally, reluctantly admitting the truth in what she has just said. ‘But all couples go through bad times, Sarah. This is just a patch. It will get better.’

  ‘This is a patch that’s lasted for three years,’ Sarah says, not unkindly. ‘Eddie, it’s not going to get better; it’s only going to get worse. I don’t know that we’re the … right match anymore. We’ve grown so far apart and it isn’t good for anyone. It’s not good for us, and it’s not good for the children. I think this is God’s way of telling us we should have a trial separation,’ Sarah says quietly. ‘This has happened for a reason. I’m not saying it’s necessarily over but face it, neither of us can carry on the way it’s been going. You going to Chicago will be like a trial separation. It will give us both time to think about what we really want.’

  Eddie sits in shock. Of course he knew things were bad, but how did they ever get this bad? His parents had fought the same amount as he and Sarah, and he didn’t remember ever seeing any open affection between them, but they never thought about a trial separation. They stayed married until his mother died of ovarian cancer at seventy-nine, after which time his father started referring to her in Godlike tones: the most wonderful woman in the world; the love of his life.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ Sarah says gently, thrown slightly by the shock on Eddie’s face – didn’t he know? Didn’t he guess this was inevitable? But while she may have used the words ‘trial separation’, it isn’t what she means. She means to soften the blow, lessen the impact, unable yet to deal with the severity of the end.

  Eddie still doesn’t speak. ‘We can tell the children in the morning,’ says Sarah, as the waiter comes over to collect their half-eaten plates. ‘We’ll have to make sure they know we still love them, that it’s nothing to do with them. It’s not their fault.’

  Eddie watches her mouth move in a daze, unable to believe that it has finally come to this.

  The first time Eddie saw Sarah was at a Halloween party in their neighborhood bar. Ninety percent of the women had gone as sexy nurses, sexy witches, sexy devils. If, Eddie had joked to his friend Todd, he had a dollar for every pair of fishnet stockings he saw that night, he would be a rich man.

  Then Sarah walked over to the bar to order a drink, and Eddie and Todd, seeing her costume, stood open-mouthed in awe.

  ‘She must be new here,’ Todd said admiringly, a little bit shocked. ‘Maybe no one explained to her how the girls are supposed dress on Halloween.’

  Sarah, aware that the two men at the other end of the bar were talking about her, pointedly ignored them.

  It wasn’t true that Sarah had misunderstood the unspoken rules of Halloween; it was that she was fed up with following them. She knew that all of her friends tried to look as sexy as possible, and up until this year, she had done the same thing. That night, however, some Machiavellian impulse had stopped her from donning her red patent platform boots, satin devil’s tail and glossy red lipstick.

  That night Sarah dressed up as a corpse or, to be more specific – as she had explained to her horrified doorman who had turned from waving goodbye to a group of gorgeous witches and Queen Malificents – one of the Evil Undead.

  ‘Uh huh,’ said the doorman warily, not even sure who this horror was until she spoke. Wow, he had thought when he realized it was the girl from apartment 26. Such a pretty girl, why did she choose to look so horrible on Halloween?

  Sarah had blacked out half her teeth and painted her skin a deathly shade of gray, adding sunken eye sockets and hollow cheeks. She was wearing filthy, ragged clothes, and to cap it off her hair was hanging in greasy tendrils.

  Sarah had decided she was sick of New York’s dating scene. She was sick of the men, sick of the scene, and was absolutely determined to stay single for a while. This was her statement, she had decide
d. This was her way of absolutely, positively ensuring she didn’t get drunk and do anything stupid on Halloween, for who in his right mind would look at her like this? She was going to meet her girlfriends, have a few drinks, and have a great time.

  ‘A hundred bucks if you get her phone number,’ Todd had nudged Eddie, indulging in their ongoing game that had started when they were frat boys in school together.

  ‘No way,’ Eddie had groaned, his eye already on a luscious redhead on the other side of the room. But once the gauntlet had been thrown down, the rule was it had to be picked up. Goddamnit.

  With a look of disgust, Eddie walked up to Sarah and said, attempting to be pleasant, ‘Nice costume.’

  ‘Go screw yourself.’ She had smiled graciously at him and turned away as her girlfriends giggled.

  ‘What?’ Eddie, resplendent in his Superman costume, was not used to being turned down, particularly not when he could have done so much better. Hell, he was only doing this for a dare.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. You didn’t hear me? Go screw yourself.’ Sarah turned to him then, smiling a toothless smile, as Eddie raised a hand in Superman’s salute.

  ‘Young lady,’ he had said in a deep, powerful voice, ‘if this was Clark Kent talking to you, you would have every right to tell him to go screw himself, but I am Superman, the most powerful superhero in America, and –’ he had pulled a green plastic crystal out of his belt, brandishing it high – ‘by the laws of kryptonite I command you to have a drink with me.’

  The people surrounding them, hearing his speech, had erupted in applause, including Sarah’s friends, and although she rolled her eyes, she had to admit she was impressed.

  Half an hour later Sarah and her girlfriends left to go to another party, and Eddie walked back to Todd, triumphant, phone number in hand.

  He hadn’t meant to phone her. Hadn’t thought he would ever think of her again, but she had been funny during the half hour they had chatted together over their dirty martinis garnished with plastic spiders. She had been sarcastic, clever, and opinionated.