He chose his job over me.
You you I cant believe my ears! It doesnt compute! Your cursed work, your urgent calls, your endless trips! Eleanor flicks the coffee mug off the table; it smashes against the wall, spraying cold brew everywhere. The shards scatter on the floor like confetti.
Stop being dramatic, youre acting like a child! Simon keeps his voice level, which irritates her even more. She roils inside while he stands as still as a statue. I cant cancel this assignment, understand? Its tied to my promotion.
Promotion?! she chokes on her rage. Your promotion always trumps us! Remember you missed Katies graduation, didnt even ring me on my anniversary after I reminded you a week ahead! And now this! Michaels operation is in two days, yet youre off to Edinburgh!
To Manchester, Simon corrects himself reflexively, then bites his tongue.
To the moon, even! Eleanor flails her arms like a windmill. You wont be there when our son is under anaesthetic, terrified, while I cling to the walls in panic! All because of some pointless piece of paper with your signature!
Simon lets out a sigh, runs his hand over his face. Dark circles, uneven stubble, stubborn eyes as always.
Its a ridiculous contract Its a chance to become finance director, you dont get it? Ive been working toward this for twenty years, my whole life. Michaels operation is routine, just tonsils, not a brain tumour.
Sure, now! What if complications arise? Eleanor digs her nails into her palms. What then?
Nothing will happen, he waves it off. I spoke to the doctor personally.
And if it does? she leans forward, eyes bright.
Then you sit tight, he shrugs. If anything goes wrong Ill jump on the first flight back. Remember when Katie needed an appendicitis operation?
I remember! she snaps, a sneer curling her lips. You showed up eight hours later, after the surgeons had gone home, just as the patient was being wheeled out!
Simon shakes his head.
Im not rubber, Eleanor. I cant snap in half. Im grinding away so you all have what you need. Didnt you hear all the complaints about the new flat? Lets move, the neighbours are noisy, the courtyard filthy, the tube far
Wed be better off in a council flat! she retorts. With a decent husband and father who actually sees his kids sometimes, not just on Sunday afternoons!
Simon collapses onto a chair, his ninetykilogram frame thudding onto the seat.
Listen, we agreed, right? You stay home with the children, keep the house cosy. Im at work, bringing home the money. What changed? When did this become a problem?
Eleanor opens her mouth to unleash a tirade, but the front door bursts open. Childrens voices spill into the hallway, backpacks thumping onto the floor.
Fine, well talk later, she mutters, forcing a strained smile that pulls at her cheeks as she shuffles out of the kitchen.
Simon fires up his laptop. He has to finish a presentation by tonight, but his head feels like a fog, blank of any useful thought.
That evening, after the kids are asleep, Eleanor sits at the kitchen table scrolling through her phone. She isnt crying; she just feels numb. Twentytwo years of marriage have turned their relationship into a spreadsheet: income, expenses, assets, liabilities. When did it become this complicated?
Simon slips into the kitchen and sits opposite her in silence.
Want some tea? Eleanor asks without looking up.
Ill have some, he replies. Emma, we need to talk.
About what? she snaps the kettle on. Its obvious. Youre leaving in two days. Michael and I will go to the hospital alone.
Listen, Simon leans forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. I know its hard, but this is really important to me.
More important than us? Eleanor turns to him, her eyes showing weariness, not anger.
Everything I do is for you, he whispers. Everything.
No, Simon, Eleanor shakes her head. Its all for you. For your ego, for your career. Were already secondbest.
Thats not true, he protests.
It is. Remember when Michael talked about his operation? He said, Good thing Dads away on business, otherwise Id be nervous about missing work. Hes eleven and already adjusting his schedule to match yours.
Simon stands mute, words failing him.
And Katya asked yesterday if youd come to her graduation next year. Not because she wants to see you, but because she fears youll be busy with something important.
Ill try to be there, Simon mutters.
Try, Eleanor repeats, the word echoing. Always try. When did I realise you chose your job over me? When I had a miscarriage ten years ago. Do you remember? You flew in two days later, after being discharged.
I had a conference in Shanghai, he starts.
Exactly, Eleanor nods. You had a conference. I lost a child and was left alone.
She turns to the grinder, methodically pouring beans.
You never mentioned it, Simon says quietly.
What would that change? Eleanor shrugs. Youd apologise, promise it wont happen again, and then do the same thing next time.
Simon pinches the bridge of his nose.
Maybe you should see someone. A therapist.
Of course, Eleanor smirks. The problem is me, right? Not that youve turned into a walking paycheck, but that Im not positive enough about it?
Thats not what I meant, Simon shakes his head. Youre dramatising.
Dramatising? Eleanor whirls around. When was the last time you attended a parentteacher meeting? Do you even know who Michaels form teacher is? What dissertation is Katie writing?
Simon stays silent.
See, thats what Im talking about, Eleanor places a fresh cup of tea before him and sits down. Youve missed our lives, Simon. You keep missing them.
Simon takes a sip, grimacing at the bitter brew, just as Eleanor does when shes upset.
I could take a summer holiday, he offers. We could go somewhere together as a family.
Katies heading to Brighton with friends, Eleanor reminds him. And Michaels signed up for a football camp.
You could have told me before planning! for the first time that evening a note of irritation slips into Simons voice.
I warned you, twice. You said fine, plan it, well see. We did.
Simon rubs his eyes.
Sorry, I dont recall.
The scariest part? Eleanor looks past his shoulder. Im starting to realise Im better off without you. When youre home I keep hoping youll be with us in spirit, not just in body, and Im always let down.
What do you want from me? Simon asks. To give up the promotion? To quit?
I want our children to have a father, not just a financial provider. I want a husband, not a flatmate who only stays the night.
I cant abandon my career at fifty, Simon says firmly. Its too late to start over.
No one asks you to quit. Just find balance.
Im trying! he raises his voice, then softens remembering the sleeping kids. I really am trying, Eleanor. But you have to understand the demands of my role
Your role, your salary, your responsibilities Eleanor cuts in, having heard the tune a hundred times. I know the song by heart. The kids grow, and you dont see them. I dont either.
Thats unfair, Simon shakes his head. Ive always tried to spend weekends with the family.
When there wasnt an urgent deadline, Eleanor points out. Which was about once a month.
They fall silent. Outside, traffic hums; inside, only the clock ticking and the fridge buzzing.
I cant cancel the trip, Simon finally admits. But Ill ask to push it a day later so I can take Michael to the hospital.
You already bought the tickets, Eleanor reminds him.
Ill change them, he says resolutely. Ill call every hour until they confirm the surgery went well.
Eleanor smirks.
Think that will solve everything?
No, Simon answers honestly. But its a start. I dont want to lose you, Eleanor.
The thing is, youre already almost lost, she says quietly. I dont know if it can be fixed.
In the hospital corridor, voices echo and footsteps clatter. Eleanor sits on a hard chair outside the operating theatre, fidgeting with her bag strap. Michael has been inside for over an hour, though the surgeon promised forty minutes.
Next to her, Katie scrolls on her phone, occasionally glancing nervously at the theatre doors.
Wheres dad? Katie asks suddenly, eyes glued to the screen.
Hes on a business trip, Eleanor replies. He promised to call.
She checks her watch.
He must be in a meeting, probably forgot.
As usual, Katie mutters.
Eleanor wants to answer, but the doors swing open and a surgeon in a green mask steps out.
Everything went well, he says, smiling. The boy is in recovery, should be moved to a ward soon. You can visit in an hour.
Thank you, doctor, Eleanor feels a wave of relief, tears of gratitude welling up.
Katie squeezes her mothers hand.
We should call dad, she says.
Yes, Eleanor picks up the phone, but it goes to voicemail. Hes not answering. Ill text him.
She types quickly: Surgery went fine. Michaels in recovery, doctor says all is good. No reply comes after five minutes, nor after half an hour, as they sit in the hospital café sipping tea with biscuits.
Mum, are you and dad getting a divorce? Katie asks abruptly, looking down at her cup.
Why would you think that? Eleanor asks, surprised.
You two argue all the time, as if we dont hear, Katie shrugs. And dads never home. You always look sad when he leaves.
Eleanor looks at her daughter, wondering when she became so observant.
Were going through a rough patch, Eleanor says gently. It doesnt mean we dont love each other.
Vicky from next class said the same, Katie adds. Then her parents split up.
Eleanor doesnt know how to answer, so she asks,
How do you feel about it?
I dont know. Its weird. Id be sad if dad left, but hes hardly ever around, so maybe not much changes.
No ones going anywhere, Eleanor says firmly, though a part of her doubts it.
The phone buzzes: a message from Simon, Sorry, was in a meeting. Hows Michael? When can we visit?
Dad wrote? Katie asks, and Eleanor nods. What did he say?
He asks about Michael, Eleanor replies, typing back, Can visit in thirty minutes. Video call?
Of course, Simons reply flashes. As soon as Im free.
Eleanor puts the phone down and sighs.
Hes busy, huh? Katie asks.
Hell call back when he can, Eleanor says. You know your dad.
Remember when we went to Brighton? Katie says, eyes bright. I was nine, Michael was three.
Of course I do, Eleanor smiles. You ate icecream every day and swam until you were bluebruised.
And dad was with us all week, Katie continues. We went to the dolphin show, rode a boat, even hiked up the hills. Why cant that happen now?
I dont know, love, Eleanor answers honestly. Things have changed.
For the worse, Katie sighs. Dads always busy now.
Eleanor wants to argue that Simon loves them and tries, but she cant. Katie is right. Everything really has gotten harder.
When Eleanor returns home, after leaving Katie to watch over Michaels bedside, the flat is quiet. She tosses off her shoes, drops her bag on the nightstand, pads to the kitchen, fills a glass with water and sits at the table, staring out the window.
The phone rings, and she flinches. The caller ID shows Simon.
Hello?
Hi, love, Simons voice sounds weary. Hows Michael?
Hes fine, temperatures a bit up but the doctor says its normal. Katie is staying with him.
Good he has a caring sister, Simon replies. At least someones looking after him.
A pause hangs between them.
Anya, you know Id come if I could, Simon begins. But this deal
I get it, Eleanor cuts in. No explanations needed.
You need them, Simon says firmly. Because you think I chose work over you. But thats not true.
Then explain, she asks. Tell me.
I Simon stumbles. I dont know how to put it into words. It just happened. I got used to working so much that it became part of me. I dont know any other way.
What about the family?
Youre everything to me, he says quietly. Somewhere along the road I lost my balance, spent too much time on the job and too little with you. I understand that now, Anya. I want to fix it.
How? she asks. What are you proposing?
I talked to the board, Simon says. If I get the promotion, Ill have more chance to delegate, more free time.
If, Eleanor repeats. Always if. What if it doesnt happen?
Then Ill consider changing jobs or cutting my hours, he answers decisively. Because youre right. Ive missed too much already, and I dont want to miss any more.
Eleanor stays silent. Shes heard promises like this too often to take them at face value.
I love you, Simon says. I love the kids. I want us to be a family, not just people sharing a roof.
I want that too, Eleanor replies. I just dont know if its possible.
Lets at least try, Simon suggests. I promise Ill make an effort, truly.
She looks at a photograph on the table: the four of them on a seaside, laughing, happy. It was taken five years ago, in another life.
Alright, she says finally. Lets try.
Thank you, Simon exhales with relief. Ill call Michael before I go to sleep. Ill be there first thing after I sign the contract.
Ill tell Michael, Eleanor nods, though she cant see him.
She hangs up and remains at the kitchen table, staring at the photo. Will they manage? Can Simon change, or will the pattern repeathim at work, her with the children, endless waiting for a better day?
For the first time in a long while, his voice carries not just fatigue and irritation, but a genuine desire to change. Maybe that will be enough to start.
Michael draws a big silver airplane with blue wings and black windows.
Look, thats dads plane, he tells his mother, pointing at the picture. Hell fly back to us on it.
Beautiful, Eleanor smiles. Hows your throat?
A little sore, Michael admits. The doctor said I can have icecream.
Icecream for treatment? she winks. Then lets go to the cafe and get you some. Dont tell dad Im spoiling you.
I wont, Michael promises. Will dad really come?
Of course he will, Eleanor assures him. He promised.
You know, Michael muses, thoughtful, Im actually glad I had the operation.As the evening sky turned pink, Simon finally stepped through the front door, suitcase in hand, and embraced his family, promising that this time he would stay.