I chose the job, not you.
You you I cant believe my ears! It just doesnt make sense! Amelia shouted, her voice shaking. Your damned work, the endless urgent calls, the constant trips! She slammed her coffee mug off the table, and it hit the wall, splashing the cold brew everywhere. The shattered pieces scattered across the floor like confetti.
Enough of this drama, behave like a grownup! I kept my tone flat, which only made her angrier. Inside she was simmering, while I stood there as if sculpted from stone. I cant cancel this overseas assignment, Amelia. Its tied to my promotion.
A promotion?! she spat, her fury choking her words. Your promotion always outweighs us! Remember you missed Catherines graduation, didnt even phone me on my anniversary after I reminded you a week ahead! And now this! Michaels operation is in two days, and youre being whisked off to Manchester!
London, I corrected reflexively, then bit my tongue.
Thats it! To the moon if you like! Amelia gestured wildly. You wont be there when the anesthetist puts my son under! When hes terrified, when Im glued to the wall in fear! All because of some pointless piece of paper with your signature!
I exhaled with a sigh, brushing a hand over my face. Dark circles under my eyes, a bit of stubble, but the stubborn look remained.
This contract is a golden ticket, love. It could land me the finance directors chairsomething Ive been chasing for twenty years, maybe my whole life. Michaels operation is routine, just tonsils, not a brain tumour.
Fine, fine! But what if something goes wrong? Complications? she dug her nails into her palm. What then?
Nothing will happen, I waved it off. Ive spoken to the surgeon personally.
What if it does? she pressed, already on the ultrasound screen.
Sit down, will you? I shrugged. If anything does go sideways, Ill hop on the next flight back. Remember when Catherines appendix burst? You showed up eight hours after the surgery, when the doctors had already gone home, and the surgeon was just stepping off the operating table?
Exactly! she sneered. You crawl in when the mess is already over!
I shook my head. Im not a rubber band, Amelia. I cant tear myself apart. Im grinding away so you all have what you need. Didnt you hear me complaining about the new flat? Lets move, the neighbours are noisy, the yard is filthy, the tube is too far
Maybe we shouldve stayed in that council flat! she retorted. But with a decent husband who actually sees his children now and then, not just on Sunday afternoons.
I flopped onto my chair, the full weight of my ninety kilos crushing the seat. Listen, we agreed. Youre at home with the kids, the house, the comfort. Im at work, pulling in the money. Whats changed? When did this become a problem?
Amelia opened her mouth to unleash a tirade, but the front door burst open, childrens voices spilling in, backpacks thudding onto the floor.
Fine, well talk later, she muttered, slipping out of the kitchen with a forced smile that made her cheeks ache.
I flicked open my laptop. I needed to finish the presentation before evening, but my head was a fog of nothing useful.
Later that night, the children asleep, I found Amelia sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone. She wasnt crying; she just seemed numb. Twentytwo years of marriage, and it felt like a balance sheet: income, expenses, assets, liabilities. When did it all get so complicated?
I walked in, took a seat opposite her. Coffee? I asked.
Yes, she said, not looking up. We need to talk, Stephen.
What about? she snapped, flicking the kettle on. Its obvious. Youre flying out the day after tomorrow. Michael and I will be at the hospital alone.
I placed my hands gently on her shoulders. I know its hard, but this is crucial for me.
Crucial for you, not for us, she replied, her eyes showing fatigue rather than anger. Its all about your ego, your career. Were already secondary.
Its not like that, I protested. When Michael talked about his operation, he said, Good thing its during dads trip; otherwise Id be scared about missing work. Hes eleven and already adjusting to my schedule.
She stared at me, then at the kids drawings on the fridge. And Catherine 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 important work again.
Ill try to be there, I muttered.
She echoed, Try. Always try. Remember when I had that miscarriage ten years ago? You flew in two days later, after a meeting in China. I was discharged already.
I had negotiations in China, I started.
Exactly, she said. You had negotiations, and I lost a child, alone.
She turned back to the coffee grinder, pouring beans with mechanical precision. You never talked about that.
What would that change? I asked. Youd apologise, promise it wont happen again, and then do the same thing.
I rubbed my temples. Maybe you should see a therapist.
Sure, the problem is me, right? Not that youve turned into a walking paycheck for the family while Im left to feel inadequate.
Its not what I meant, I said, shaking my head. You dramatise everything.
Dramatise? I raised an eyebrow. When was the last time you attended a parentteacher meeting? Do you even know Michaels head of year?
She placed a steaming mug in front of me. Youve missed our lives, Stephen. And you keep missing them.
I took a sip, grimacing at the bitternessjust like every time Amelia is upset. I could take some leave this summer. We could go somewhere together.
Catherines heading to Brighton with friends, and Michaels signed up for a football camp, she reminded me.
Why didnt you tell me before planning? I snapped for the first time that night.
I did. Twice. You said, Fine, plan it, well see. We planned.
I rubbed my eyes. Sorry, I cant recall.
She looked past my shoulder. The scariest thing is Im starting to realise life is easier without you. When youre home, I keep hoping youll be there in spirit, not just in body, and Im always disappointed.
What do you want from me? To quit? To step down?
I want a father, not a financial supplier. I want a husband, not a flatsharing roommate who only stays overnight.
I cant quit at fifty. Its too late to start over.
No ones asking you to quit. Just find balance.
Im trying! I raised my voice, then softened as I heard the children breathing. Im really trying, Amelia. But my role
Your role, your salary, your responsibilitiesI know that song by heart, she cut in. The kids grow, and you dont see them. I dont either.
Youre unfair, I said. Ive always tried to spend weekends with the family.
When work wasnt urgent, she reminded me, which was about once a month.
Silence fell. Outside, traffic rumbled, and the night was filled only with the ticking clock and the hum of the fridge.
I cant cancel the trip, I finally admitted. But Ill ask to move it a day later so I can take Michael to the hospital.
Youve already bought the tickets, she pointed out.
Ill change them, I said firmly. Ill call every hour until they confirm the operation went well.
She gave a halfsmile. Do you think that will solve anything?
No, I answered honestly. But its a start. I dont want to lose you, Amelia. I really dont.
The problem is youve almost lost us already, she whispered. I dont know if it can be fixed.
The hospital corridor buzzed with voices and footsteps. Amelia sat on a stiff chair outside the operating theatre, fidgeting with her bag strap. Michael had been in surgery for over an hour, though the doctor promised it would be a fortyminute procedure.
Catherine, glued to her phone, kept glancing toward the doors.
Wheres dad? she asked suddenly.
You know hes on a business trip, Amelia replied.
He said hed call.
Amelia checked her watch. He must be in a meeting, probably forgot.
Typical, Catherine muttered.
Just then the surgeon emerged, green mask pulled down. All 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, Amelia breathed, tears of relief welling up.
Catherine squeezed her mothers hand. We should call dad, she said.
Amelia dialed Stephens number, only to hit voicemail. Hes not answering. Ill text him.
She typed: Operation successful. Michaels in recovery, doctor says all is fine. No reply came in the next five minutes, nor in the halfhour that followed as they sat in the waiting area sipping tea with biscuits.
Mom, are you and dad getting a divorce? Catherine asked suddenly, staring at her cup.
Why would you think that? Amelia asked, taken aback.
Youre always fighting, as if we dont hear, Catherine shrugged. And dads never home. You always look sad when he leaves.
Amelia looked at her daughter, wondering when shed become so observant. Were going through a rough patch, she said gently. But that doesnt mean we dont love each other.
Vicky from next class said the same, Catherine added. Then her parents split up.
Amelia had no answer. Instead she asked, How do you feel about that?
I dont know. It feels odd. Ill be sad if dad leaves, but hes hardly ever home anyway, so maybe not much will change.
No ones going anywhere, Amelia said, though she no longer felt certain.
The phone buzzedStephens text: Sorry, was in a meeting. Hows Michael? When can we visit?
Dad wrote? Catherine asked, and Amelia nodded. What does he say?
He asks how Michael is, Amelia replied, typing back: Can visit in thirty minutes. Video call?
Sure, Stephen replied. As soon as Im free.
Amelia set the phone down, sighing. Hes busy, isnt he? Catherine asked.
Hell call back when he can, Amelia said. You know dad.
I do, Catherine said quietly. Remember when we went to the seaside when I was nine and Michael was three?
Of course, Amelia smiled. You ate icecream every day and got sunburned.
And dad was with us all weekdolphin shows, boat rides, even a hike. Why cant that happen now?
I dont know, love, Amelia admitted. Things have changed.
To the worse, Catherine whispered. Dads always busy now.
Amelia wanted to argue that Stephen loved them and tried his best, but she couldnt. Catherine was right; everything had indeed changed for the worse.
When Amelia finally got back home, the flat was quiet. She slipped off her shoes, set her bag on the nightstand, and poured a glass of water, sitting by the window and staring out.
The phone rang, startling her. Hello? she answered.
Hey, Stephens tired voice came through. Hows Michael?
Okay, she said. Temperatures a bit up, but the doctor says its normal. Catherines with him.
Thats good, he replied. Hes lucky to have a caring sister.
Yes, she agreed. At least someone looks after him.
An awkward pause. Amelia, you know Id be there if I could, but this deal
I get it, she cut in. No need to explain.
You need to, he said firmly. You think I chose work over you, but it isnt that simple.
So what then? she asked. Explain.
I I dont know how to put it, Stephen stammered. It just happened. I got used to working so much that it became part of me. I dont know any other way.
And the family?
Youre everything to me, he said quietly. I lost my balance somewhere along the road, spent too much time on the job, too little with you. I understand that, Amelia, and I want to fix it.
What do you propose?
I talked to senior management. If I get the promotion, Ill have more people to delegate to, more free time.
If again, Amelia replied. What if it doesnt happen?
Then Ill look for a new role or cut my hours, he said resolutely. Youre right, Ive missed too much. I dont want to miss any more.
Amelia was silent. Shed heard similar promises so often she barely believed them.
I love you, Stephen said. I love the kids. I want us to be a family, not just roofshare occupants.
I want that too, she answered. I just dont know if its possible.
Lets at least try, he suggested. Ill really try this time.
She glanced at the family photo on the tablefour of them on a sunny beach, laughing. It was taken five years ago, in a different life.
Alright, she said finally. Well try.
Thanks, Stephen breathed, relief in his voice. Ill call Michael before I go to sleep, and Ill be back tomorrow as soon as the paperworks done.
Okay, Amelia nodded, though he couldnt see her. Ill tell Michael.
After hanging up, she lingered at the kitchen table, staring at the picture. Would they make it? Could Stephen truly change, or would things revert to the old patternhim at work, her with the kids, endless waiting for a better day?
She didnt know. But for the first time in ages, his voice carried not just exhaustion and irritation, but a genuine desire to change. Perhaps that was enough to start.
Michael drew a picture of an airplanelarge, silver, with blue wings and black windows.
Look, thats dads plane, he said, showing it to Amelia. Dad will fly in on that.
Nice one, Amelia smiled. Hows your throat?
A bit sore, Michael admitted. Doctor said I can have icecream for treatment.
For treatment, eh? Amelia winked. Then lets go to the café and get you some. Dont tell dad Im spoiling you.
I wont, Michael promised. Dad really will come?
Of course he will, Amelia assured. He promised.
You know, Michael said thoughtfully, Im actually glad they operated on me. Now dad will be with us.
She patted his head, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Yes, love, dad will be here.
She didnt know if Stephen would keep his word. She didnt know if their family could return to how it once was. But for the first time in a long while she felt hope.
Maybe people can change after all. Maybe work and family can coexist without one eclipsing the other.
Maybe this time hell choose them, not the job.
Michael added a tiny figure to the plane.
Thats dad waving at us from the window, he said.
Amelia laughed. Yes, thats dad. Hes coming home.
