story: the lucky wife

Kate woke up and realized that she had fallen asleep on the armchair. Some sound had woken her, and she realized that it came from the other room. Violet probably had a dream.

She opened the child’s bedroom and found Anna, the live-in nanny, already up and patting the child, making shushing sounds. She knelt beside the bed, smoothing the hair back from Violet's face, trying to soothe her. But Violet, half awake, scooted away from her touch, squeezing into the nanny's side. She felt a stab of resentment and, for a moment, wanted to pull the whimpering child by her feet back to her.

But she sighed, and stood up, and fussed around the room, while Violet gradually fell asleep tucked under Anna’s arm. She checked if Violet had enough bottles for the night. But of course. Anna had them all ready when she put the child to bed. She kissed the top of her daughter's head and left.

She went back to their bedroom. Mike has not come up yet. He watches the late-evening news to relax before going to bed. Sometimes he’d crawl in beside her at 2 a.m. Sometimes he spends the night in the living room. She picked up the book she had dropped when she dozed, and put in in the pile on the nighttable. She noticed that her shelves are already overflowing.

She had floor to ceiling bookshelves along one whole wall of the bedroom. She reads inspirational books, historical novels, horror, mystery, science fiction, erotica, humorous books, and those weepy love stories. She has books on emotional intelligence, black magic, corporate leadership, child psychology, and the anatomy of an F1 fighter plane. She wondered how long had those books been her bedfellows. She wondered, briefly, whether her books were the reason her husband preferred to unwind in front of the TV, whether all these evidences of forced intellectuality were too overwhelming. Then she went to bed.

The alarm woke her up at five, same as always. She went down to the kitchen and put on the coffee. She’d wake Mike up at five-twenty. She checked the refrigerator and saw that there were three small microwave dishes in there, prepared by Anna the night before. One of them had meatloaf. She took that one out for Miranda’s lunch bag.

Miranda came down at five-thirty, as Mike was having coffee. She went straight to the bathroom.

She packed Miranda's lunch and checked her schoolbooks. She gave Mike a final once-over, checking wallet, phone, and keys.

Miranda came out combing her long hair.
“Do you want me to do your hair, honey?” she asked.
“No, Mom. I’ll leave it down.”
“I could braid it.”
“I’ll just put it up in a ponytail when it dries,” Miranda said. Her tone suggested that she did not want a discussion about her hair. Miranda was ten. She had asked to have brown highlights in her hair. Kate had refused; Mike had said yes. That was last week. Miranda now has highlights in her hair and would not allow Kate to fix her hair in the morning.

Mike gave her a look that she could not read, then bent to kiss her on the lips and Miranda on the forehead.

“Bye, honey. I’ll see you tonight,” he told Miranda.
“No, you won’t. Violet and I will be asleep when you get home,” Miranda said.
“Well, okay. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
Miranda shrugged.

Kate did the breakfast dishes and went back to the bedroom, looking at her wall of books. Anna and Violet would not come down until seven.

She had been the envy of her friends when she married Mike. He was an up-and-coming lawyer, and his family was old money. Her mother was so puffed up with pride at the 500-guest hotel wedding that you'd think she was the bride. They had their own townhouse, two little cars, a maid who comes twice a week to do the cleaning and pick up the laundry, and of course, Anna.

When Miranda was born, she told Mike that she would like to take care of the child herself. He said, "Let's see, love," and a week later, her mother-in-law sent Anna, the trusted nanny. When Miranda was three, she told Mike that she would like to get a job. Mike said, "Let's see, love." He introduced her to his friends' wives, and they made her a member of some giggling women's club, and they exchanged recipes and raised potted plants and gossiped and shopped together. When Miranda was eight, she again mentioned that maybe she could work. Mike said, "Let's see, love," then got her pregnant with Violet.

Her mother-in-law named her children, hired the decorator for the house, took her shopping for the designer clothes she had to wear on family functions and Mike's dinners with other lawyers. Mike had all the house bills on automatic debit arrangement, made the pediatrician's appointments, paid her credit cards.

She went to the salon every second week to have her nails done, attended her children's school performances, did the Christmas shopping. Yes, she was the envy of her friends.

She looked at her books and sat there, thinking, for a long time.

In the morning she woke up a little earlier, and when the coffee was ready she woke Mike—on the sofa—with a sound kiss on the cheek. When he was ready to leave she kissed him again, firmly on the lips, and he looked surprised, but pleased. He gave her a little wink and said, “Tonight?” She smiled.

She also gave Miranda a kiss when the school service came.

“Be good, honey,” she said, and let her hand linger on her daughter’s hair.
Miranda, in one of her rare good moods, smiled. “I am, Mom.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “I love you.”
Miranda looked at her. Then she said, “I love you too, Mom.”

She knocked on Violet's door.
“Who!” said Violet.
Anna was tying the child's hair in ribbons. Violet saw her mother and skipped to the door, trying to climb her leg.
“Down!” said Violet, meaning she wanted to be picked up. Kate hoisted her up, smelled her baby-sweet hair, kissed her plump cheek, and hugged her tight.
"Anna!" said Violet, and squirmed out of her embrace.

Kate went to the bedroom, got a bag, and packed three days' clothes and some toiletries. She took all the credit cards out of her wallet and placed them in Mike's sock drawer. She took all the cash in the room, but left her jewelry in their boxes. She looked at her books, but took nothing. She thought she might write a letter, but did nothing. She thought she might call someone, her mother perhaps, but she left her mobile phone on the night table. She thought there would be tears, but there was none.

Anna was feeding Violet her breakfast in the kitchen. She gave them a wave and went out the front door.

Kate did not look back.