Big Time

Twenty Four

Barbara’s mother was in and out of hospital for the next year, over which time, Barbara began suffering from stomach problems. She flew back to Boston most weekends and still worked full days during the week, while constantly complaining about how many hours he worked.

The few weekends Barbara had spent in New York over the last few months, she decorated the apartment. John liked her style, which went far beyond anything he was capable of organizing or imagining. She frequently asked John what he thought, but the questions were redundant—she knew what she wanted and was anal about getting it. While the new apartment walls were painted off-white and the living space had parquetry floors, the new artwork and dark wood furniture she bought made the place look elegant. John had initially resisted the idea of beige linen couches, but he had to admit they were comfortable to sit in. John had never in his life spent money so rapidly and it caused him some indigestion at first.

They’d been married two years now, and it seemed to John that Barbara was becoming increasingly intolerant. She often had a go at him for being a slob, while he insisted that they paid the housekeeper to clean up—not so they could do it themselves.

The weather in Manhattan had everyone mad with heat and he understood her stress over her mom. Walking back to the loft on a Sunday in August, the third straight 100-degree day, John walked past a playground. Children were there in bathing suits, shorts, and T-shirts, running through an elaborate water fountain system. Despite the midday sun, he stopped to watch. They were all soaked and it looked much more appetizing to be in the water than out. Some tried to run through while protecting their eyes, others stood with their feet covering the jets, stopping the flow of water, and some chased their friends through it. All were ecstatic from their fun. John couldn’t ever remember having such enjoyment as a kid. He wondered what sort of parents he and Barbara would make. To be truthful, it scared him. He hadn’t had a father figure long enough to know how a father should behave. He knew he’d want everything for his children, want to protect and provide for them, but also want to have the time to play and be there as Rob had said. Months before her mother’s diagnosis, he and Barbara had discussed having kids briefly, but now nothing was further from their minds.

As soon as he walked in the door Barbara let fly. “You need to go and clean the bathroom. It’s disgusting!”

“Why me?” asked John.

“You left your towel on the floor and whiskers all over the basin. Besides, when have you ever cleaned the bathroom?”

“That’s unfair. If you’re unhappy, let’s just get the cleaner to come in on Mondays as well. That way, it’ll be spotless at the start and the end of the week.”

“How about you stop acting like a child and clean up after yourself?” she asked, before storming off to the bedroom.

While he knew couples fought, he just didn’t need this type of aggravation. Nor did she at a time like this.