The Husband's Secret(20)
“Not sure yet,” said Rob. “We’ll have to see. I might end up being a househusband.”
“So sorry I never taught him how to cook,” said Rachel to Lauren, not especially sorry. Rachel had never been much interested in cooking or that good at it; it was just another job that had to be done, like doing the laundry. The way people went on these days about cooking.
“That’s okay.” Lauren beamed. “We’ll probably eat out a lot in New York. The city that never sleeps, you know!”
“Although, of course, Jacob will need to sleep,” said Rachel. “Or will the nanny feed him while you’re out for dinner?”
Lauren’s smile wavered and she glanced at Rob, who was oblivious, of course.
The volume of the television suddenly increased, so the house boomed with cinematic sound. A male voice shouted, “You get nothing for nothing!”
Rachel recognized the voice. It was one of the trainers on The Biggest Loser. She liked that show. She found it soothing to get caught up in a brightly colored, plastic world where all that mattered was how much you ate and exercised, where pain and anguish were suffered over no greater tragedy than push-ups, where people spoke intensely about calories and sobbed joyfully over lost kilos. And then they all lived happily, skinnily ever after.
“You playing with the remote again, Jake?” called out Rob over the noise of the TV. He left the table and went into the living room.
He was always the first to get up and go to Jacob. Never Lauren. Right from the beginning he’d changed nappies. Ed never changed a nappy in his life. Of course, all the daddies changed nappies these days. It probably didn’t hurt them. It just made Rachel feel awkward, almost embarrassed, as if they were doing something inappropriate, too feminine. How the girls of today would shriek if she were to ever admit to that!
“Rachel,” said Lauren.
Rachel saw that Lauren was looking at her nervously, as if she had a large favor to ask. Yes, Lauren, I’ll take care of Jacob while you and Rob live in New York! For two years? No problem. Off you go. Have a lovely time.
“This Friday,” said Lauren. “Good Friday. I know that it’s, ah, the anniversary . . .”
Rachel froze. “Yes,” she said in her chilliest voice. “Yes it is.” She had no desire to discuss this Friday with Lauren, of all people. Her body had known weeks ago that Friday was coming up. It happened every year in the last days of summer, when she felt that very first hint of crispness in the air. She’d feel a tension in her muscles, a prickling sense of horror, and then she’d remember: Of course. Here comes another autumn. A pity. She used to love autumn.
“I understand that you go to the park,” said Lauren, as if they were discussing the venue for an upcoming cocktail party. “It’s just that I wondered—”
Rachel couldn’t bear it.
“Would you mind if we didn’t talk about it? Just not right now? Another time?”
“Of course!” Lauren flushed, and Rachel felt a pang of guilt. She rarely played that card. It was so easy to make people feel terrible.
“I’ll make us a cup of tea,” she said, and began to stack the plates.
“Let me help.” Lauren half stood.
“Leave that,” ordered Rachel.
“If you’re sure.” Lauren pushed a lock of strawberry-blond hair behind her ear. She was a pretty girl. The first time Rob brought her home to meet Rachel, he could barely contain his pride. It reminded her of his rosy, plump face when he’d brought home a new painting from preschool.