He chose the promotion, not me
You you I cant believe my ears! Its impossible to wrap my head around this! Your cursed job, the endless calls, the constant trips! Anna Whitaker slammed her coffee mug off the table; it smashed against the wall, spilling scalding coffee everywhere. The shards splattered across the floor like confetti.
Stop being hysterical, youre acting like a child! Steve Collins kept his voice level, which made it even more infuriating. Inside she was a volcano, and he stood there as still as a statue. I simply cant cancel this business trip, understand that. Its tied to my promotion.
Promotion?! she gagged on her fury. Your promotion always outweighs us! Remember, you missed Claires graduation, didnt even call on my anniversary after I reminded you a week in advance! And now this! Mikes operation is in two days, and youre being whisked off to York!
To Manchester, Steve blurted, then bit his tongue.
To the moon, if you like! Anna gestured wildly. You wont be there when they put our son under anaesthetic! When hes terrified, when Im shaking against the wall! All because of some meaningless piece of paper with your signature!
Steve exhaled sharply, wiped a hand across his face. Dark circles under his eyes, a scruffy beard, but the stubborn look remained.
Its just a stupid contract Its a chance to sit in the CFOs chair, cant you see? Ive been working toward this fortwenty years, at leastmy whole life. Mikes operation is routine, why are you trembling? Just tonsils! Its not a brain tumour.
Yeah, right! What if something goes wrong? Complications? Anna dug her nails into her palm. What will we do then?
Nothing will happen, he shrugged. Ive spoken to the surgeon myself.
And if it does? she pressed, moving onto the ultrasound screen.
Sit down! he tossed his shoulders. If anything happens, Ill be on the first flight back. Remember when Claire had her appendix removed? You showed up eight hours later, after the doctors had gone home, stepping off the ambulance like a hero!
Exactly! she sneered. You crawl in when the crisis is over!
Steves head bobbed.
Im not made of rubber, Anna. I cant fall apart. Im working myself to the bone so you all have everything. Did you forget how you nagged me about the new flat? Lets move, the neighbours are noisy, the courtyard is filthy, the tube is far
We should have stayed in that old council flat! she shouted. With a decent husband and father who actually sees his kids sometimes, not just on Sunday afternoons!
Steve collapsed onto a chair, his ninety kilos thudding onto the seat.
Listen, we agreed, didnt we? You at home with the kids, the house, the comfort. Im grinding at work, bringing money in. What changed? When did this become a problem?
Anna opened her mouth to unleash a tirade, but the front door burst open, childrens voices spilling into the kitchen, backpacks thudding on the floor.
Fine, well talk later, she muttered, sliding out of the kitchen with a forced smile that strained her cheeks.
Steve flicked his laptop open. He had a presentation to finish before nightfall, but his mind was a haze, every thought muddied.
That evening, with the children asleep, Anna sat at the kitchen table scrolling through her phone, eyes empty. Twentytwo years of marriage felt more like a ledger: income, expenses, assets, liabilities. When had it all become so complicated?
Steve entered silently, sat opposite her.
Want a coffee? Anna asked without looking up.
Yes, he replied. Anna, we need to talk.
About what? she stood, the kettle clicking on. Everythings already clear. Youre leaving in two days. Mike and I will go to the hospital alone.
Listen, Steve placed his hands on her shoulders gently. I know this is hard for you. It really matters to me.
Matters more than us? Anna turned, her eyes showing fatigue, not anger.
Its all for you, he whispered. Everything I do is for you.
No, Steve, Anna shook her head. Its all for you. For your ego, for your career. Weve become secondary.
Thats not true, he tried to protest.
It is. When Mike talked about his operation, he said, Good thing its during dads trip, otherwise hed be panicking over missed work. Hes eleven and already adjusting his schedule to yours.
Steve stood 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 again.
Ill try to make it, Steve mumbled.
Try, Anna echoed. Always try. Do you remember when I realized you chose the job over me? When I had a miscarriage ten years ago? You flew back two days later, after youd already left the hospital.
I had a meeting in China, he began.
Exactly, Anna nodded. You had a meeting. I lost a child and was alone.
She turned to the coffee grinder, methodically filling it.
You never mentioned that, Steve said softly.
What would that change? Anna shrugged. Youd apologise, promise it wont happen again, and still put work first.
Steve pressed his fingers to his bridge of the nose.
Maybe you should see a counsellor. he suggested.
Of course, Anna smiled bitterly. The problem is me, right? Not that youve become a walking paycheck, but that Im not positive about it?
Thats not what I meant, Steve shook his head. Youre dramatising everything.
Dramatising? Anna snapped. Then tell me, when was the last time you attended a parentteacher meeting? Do you even know who Mikes head teacher is? What dissertation is Claire working on?
Steve stayed silent.
See, youve missed our lives, Steve. And you keep missing them.
He sipped the coffee, grimacing at its bitternessalways bitter when Anna was upset.
I could take a summer holiday, he offered. We could go somewhere as a family.
Claire is heading to Brighton with friends, Anna reminded. And Mikes signed up for a football camp.
You could have warned me before planning! for once Steves voice carried irritation.
I warned you. Twice. You said Fine, plan, well see. We planned.
Steve rubbed his eyes.
Sorry, I dont remember.
The scariest part, Anna said, looking over his shoulder, is that Im starting to think Im better off without you. When youre home I keep hoping youll be there in spirit, not just in body, and Im always let down.
What do you want from me? Steve asked. To quit the promotion? To quit the job?
I want our children to have a father, not a financial supplier. I want a husband, not a flatsharing roommate who only sleeps over sometimes.
I cant quit my career at fifty, Steve said firmly. Its too late to start over.
No one asked you to quit. Just find balance.
Im trying! he raised his voice, then lowered it, remembering the sleeping kids. I really am trying, Anna. But you have to understand the demands of my position
Your position, your salary, your responsibilities, Anna cut in. I know that song by heart. The kids are growing and you dont see them. I dont see myself either.
Thats unfair, Steve protested. I always try to spend weekends with the family.
When there wasnt an urgent deadline, Anna replied. That was roughly once a month.
Silence fell. Outside, traffic rumbled, inside only the ticking clock and the hum of the fridge.
I cant cancel the trip, Steve finally said. But Ill ask to postpone it by a day so I can take Mike to the hospital.
Youve already bought the tickets, Anna reminded.
Ill change them, he said resolutely. Ill call every hour until they confirm the operation went well.
Anna gave a halfsmile.
You think that solves anything?
No, Steve admitted. But its a start. I dont want to lose you, Anna. I truly dont.
The problem is youve already almost lost us, she whispered. And I dont know if it can be fixed.
The hospital corridor buzzed with voices and shuffling feet. Anna sat on a hard chair outside the operating theatre, twisting the strap of her bag. Mike had been inside for over an hour, though the surgeon promised a fortyminute procedure.
Next to her, Claire stared at her phone, but Anna caught the occasional anxious glance toward the doors.
Wheres dad? Claire asked suddenly, eyes still glued to the screen.
You know hes on a business trip.
He said hed call.
Anna glanced at her watch.
He must be in a meeting, probably forgot.
Typical, Claire muttered.
Anna wanted to answer, but the doors swung open and a surgeon in a green mask stepped out.
Everything went well, he said, smiling. The boys in recovery, should be moved to a ward soon. You can visit in an hour.
Thank you, doctor, Anna felt the tension melt away, tears of relief welling.
Claire squeezed her mothers hand.
We should call dad, she said.
Right, Anna picked up the phone, only to hear the voicemail. Hes not answering. Ill text him.
She typed: Operation successful. Mikes in recovery, doctors say hes fine.
No reply came in the next five minutes, nor after half an hour, as they sat in the hospital café sipping tea with sandwiches.
Mum, are you and dad going to divorce? Claire asked, looking at her cup.
Where did that come from?
You argue all the time, like you think we dont hear, Claire shrugged. And dads never home. You always look so sad when he leaves.
Anna stared at her daughter, amazed at how perceptive shed become.
Were going through a rough patch, Anna said carefully. That doesnt mean we dont love each other.
My friend Maya said the same, then her parents split, Claire replied.
Anna didnt know how to answer. Instead she asked,
How do you feel about all this?
I dont know. Its odd. Id be sad if dad left, but hes hardly ever here, so maybe not much would change.
No ones going anywhere, Anna said, though she wasnt sure she believed it.
The phone buzzed: a message from Steve Sorry, was in a meeting. Hows Mike? When can we visit?
He wrote? Claire asked, and Anna nodded. What did he say?
He asked about Mike, Anna replied, typing back: Can visit in thirty minutes. Video call?
Sure, came the reply. As soon as Im free.
Anna set the phone down and sighed.
Hes busy, huh? Claire asked.
Hell call back, Anna said. You know him.
I remember our trip to Brighton when I was nine and Mike was three, Claire said. We ate icecream every day, swam till we were blue, went to the dolphin show, rode a boat, even climbed a hill. Why cant we do that now?
I dont know, love, Anna answered honestly. Things have changed.
For the worse, Claire sighed. Dads always busy.
Anna wanted to argue that Steve loved them and tried his best, but she couldnt. Claire was right; everything truly had shifted.
When Anna finally returned home, after leaving Claire watching over her brother, the flat was quiet. She slipped off her shoes, dropped her bag on the nightstand, poured a glass of water and sat at the table, staring out the window.
The phone rang. She jumped.
Hello?
Hey, Steves voice was weary. Hows Mike?
Hes fine, temperatures a bit up but the doctor says its normal. Claire stayed with him.
Good shes looking after him, Steve said. At least someones there.
Yes, Anna agreed. Someones there.
An awkward pause hung between them.
Anna, you know Id be there if I could, Steve began. But the deal
I understand, Anna cut in. No need to explain.
I need to, Steve said firmly. You think I chose work over you, but thats not true.
Then what? Anna asked. Explain.
I he faltered. I dont know how to put it. It just happened. Im used to working so much, its become part of me. I dont know any other way.
And the family?
Youre everything to me, he whispered. Somewhere along the road I lost my balance, gave work too much of myself and gave you too little. I get that, Anna. I want to fix it.
How? she pressed. What are you proposing?
Ive spoken to senior management, Steve said. If I get this role Ill be able to delegate more, have more free time.
If, Anna repeated. That word always follows your promises. What if it doesnt happen?
Then Ill look for a new job or cut my hours, he said resolutely. Because youre right. Ive missed too much already. I dont want to miss any more.
Anna stayed silent. Shed heard similar vows countless times.
I love you, Steve said. I love the kids. I want us to be a family, not just people sharing a roof.
I want that too, Anna replied. I just dont know if its possible.
Lets try, at least, Steve suggested. I promise Ill really try.
She looked at the photograph on the table: the four of them on a seaside promenade, laughing, sunkissed. It was five years old, a different life.
Alright, she said finally. Lets try.
Thank you, Steve exhaled, relief in his voice. Ill call Mike before I go to bed. Tomorrow Ill be back as soon as the contract is signed.
Good, Anna nodded, though he couldnt see her. Ill tell Mike.
She hung up and sat at the kitchen table, the picture still staring at her. Would they make it? Could Steve truly change, or would the old pattern resumehim at work, her with the children, endless waiting for a better day?
For the first time in ages, his voice carried not just fatigue and irritation, but a genuine desire to change. Perhaps that was enough to start.
Mike drew a big silver plane with blue wings and black windows.
Look, thats dads plane, he told his mother, pointing at the picture. Dad will fly in on it.
Beautiful, Anna smiled. Hows your throat?
A little sore, Mike admitted. The doctor said I can have icecream.
Icecream for treatment? Anna winked. Lets go get some. Dont tell Dad Im spoiling you.
I wont, Mike promised. Will dad really come?
Of course he will, Anna assured. He promised.
You know, Mike mused, Im actually glad I had the operation. Now dad will be with us.
Anna ran her hand through his hair, feeling a lump rise in her throat.
Yes, love, she said. Dad will be here.
She didnt know if Steve would keep his word. She didnt know if their family could return to what it once was. But for the first time in a long while, hope flickered inside her.
Maybe people can change. Maybe work and family can coexist without oneAs the sun set over the quiet street, Anna heard the distant roar of an aircraft and felt, for the first time in years, a steady pulse of optimism in her heart.
