Turning Point(15)

    “Maybe we should take a break when you come back,” he suggested as he stood looking at her.

“Why? As my punishment if I go to Paris?” That seemed so unfair and the reaction seemed extreme to her.

“I’m not trying to punish you, Steph. But we need more balance in our marriage. We need more time together, and with the kids, if we want this to work.”

“It’s been working until now,” she said, looking unhappy, and he did too.

“Not in a while,” Andy said honestly. “At least not for me. I feel like your errand boy and babysitter. You’re at work all the time. If you’re not seeing patients, you’re in meetings, or taking classes on new techniques.”

“That’s part of the deal, and what the hospital expects of me. I have to stay on top of new protocols, new surgical techniques, and new meds.”

    “Our kids are going to grow up before you know it, and you’re going to miss it. You said that to me about your father when we met, that you hardly saw him when you were growing up. You can’t get back the time you don’t spend with the boys. All I know is that a month in Paris sounds like a long time to me, no matter how flattering the invitation is. You don’t need to know how they deal with terrorism and trauma in France,” he said practically. “You live and work here.” He was right about that, but it sounded fascinating to her. For a minute she wished that he could go with her, but it made no sense. She knew he was right and she’d be busy all the time. He and the kids would be cooped up in the hotel, and the boys were too young to enjoy a month in a foreign city. They wouldn’t even remember it.

“Do you want your mom to stay at the house with the boys, and you come with me?” she suggested as a peace offering, but he shook his head.

“They’re too much for my mother to handle, she’s seventy-four years old. And your mother wouldn’t do it either. I don’t want to leave them for a month,” he said, sounding supercilious about it, and making her feel guilty again. He always did. “Let me know what you decide. It’s up to you.” She was almost waiting for him to add the famous words of Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio, “and let your conscience be your guide.” Why was everything in life a hard decision, involving so many sacrifices? Parenthood was harder than she had expected, and their marriage wasn’t going as smoothly as it used to either. He was always pointing out to her where she fell short. He hung out with women who didn’t work, the mothers he saw at the boys’ school, and suddenly she had become a criminal in his eyes. He made her feel like an inadequate parent, and she wondered if it were true, and she was damaging her children forever. But if she backed down on her career or worked part time, she knew it would damage her and she would feel cheated. It really wasn’t fair. He had nothing else to do, except write articles and essays that most of the time didn’t sell. He had talent but getting freelance articles published wasn’t easy.

    She wanted to talk to someone about the trip, but didn’t know who. She wasn’t close to the other doctors at work, nor the mothers at the boys’ school. She felt like a freak compared to them, and showed up in scrubs or surgical pajamas or her white doctor’s coat every time they had an event at school, as though to show them she had an excuse for the times she wasn’t there. And her mother was usually sympathetic to Andy, even though Stephanie’s father had been at the hospital most of the time. Her mother excused it because he was a man. Her sister was even more extreme. She’d had a great job as a family law attorney, and given it up the first time she got pregnant. She had three children and spent all her time making bead jewelry with her daughters, papier-maché Christmas decorations, perfect gingerbread houses for the school fair, and carpooling her girls to ballet. She thought Stephanie was dead wrong to maintain the pace she did, and continue working full time in the trauma unit. She had recently told Stephanie that she should be getting Aden onto a soccer team, signing him up for Little League, and checking out a Cub Scout troop. Stephanie didn’t have the time, so Andy had promised to do it, but hadn’t yet. Her sister had nothing else to do.

She felt as though her entire family was some kind of guilt factory, they were always picking on her. Her father thought they should have another child, he said her fertility was going to drop markedly in the near future, now that she was thirty-five. But a third child was the last thing Stephanie wanted, she could hardly take care of the two she had. Her baby-making days were over, and she wanted them to be. She loved the two boys she had, but couldn’t have juggled one more. Andy had always said he wanted four, but Stephanie knew her limits, and two was all she could handle, with her job. Her sister’s answer to everything was to tell her to quit. She could just imagine what Nicole would say if Stephanie told her she wanted to go to Paris for a month on a medical exchange.

    She was looking troubled when the head of the trauma unit stopped to talk to her a few days later, and congratulated her on the trip to Paris. He had recommended her for the exchange. “You’re lucky you’ve got a husband who’ll pick up the slack for you with the kids while you’re away,” he said confidently, and Stephanie looked pained but didn’t comment. “He’s a good guy,” he added.

“Yes, he is,” Stephanie agreed softly, “but I feel guilty anyway. A month is a long time to be away from my kids.”