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I became jealous and suspicious of Lauren and started seeing signs of her cheating on me everywhere. I was convinced she was seeing Gabriel on the side. I watched the two of them on the tennis court, her laughing the way she never laughed with me. Gabriel was handsome in a dark, almost Mediterranean way. He had an easy grace, and I could see that he was attractive to men as well as women. I thought he probably had relationships with both sexes. He seemed open to that, freer, certainly than I was. Lauren had told me early on that they were only friends, but I couldn’t really understand that kind of friendship. To spend so much time with someone else, not becoming irritated and needing to be alone, seemed foreign to me. I could not quite believe that there was nothing sexual about their closeness. At the same time, I kept telling myself our relationship couldn’t be serious, that it would have to end soon when I graduated anyway.
The traffic started moving slowly and I was relieved to be able to put my foot on the gas and drive a bit. I wanted to get going again, not only in the traffic, but in my life too.
Now Lauren was pregnant.
I knew my reaction to the news had not been good and I regretted it. I had felt put on the spot and I was never at my best in a situation like that. I had implied that I wanted nothing to do with the baby, that I wanted her to get rid of it. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I thought of babies and how helpless they were. Cute and playful, needing to be cared for and carried around. In my world, there were people who did that. Childminders and night nurses, au pairs, and nannies. Mothers dressed their babies up in darling outfits to show them off to friends for a few hours over a cup of tea. There was always someone else to clean their bum or find a dry sweater and fix a sandwich for a hungry boy. Mothers planned dinner parties and redecorated conservatories. But Lauren wasn’t from my world, she would be a different sort of mother.
My thoughts came back to the baby. My baby.
The idea that I had fathered a child was exciting. I imagined how this child could have a different sort of childhood than I had. This child could have so much love and attention. This baby I could take up to the family cabin, build tree houses with, if it was a boy. If it was a girl, I would get her a pony, teach her to ride. I thought of the things I’d do with the baby, could see myself sitting with the bundle of blankets at night, if he or she woke up screaming in the night and needed comforting.
I felt powerful feelings that I’d never had before. The only babies I had ever come into contact with were the children of two of my cousins. One of my friends had recently become a father, but he barely spoke of it. He was more keen to talk about his new car, an imported Lamborghini from Italy. Telling me how fast it had been able to go on the back roads upstate was all he had to share with me
But fast cars held no attraction for me. A baby, on the other hand, my own too, now that was something to think about.
I called the head of HR and asked for Lauren’s home address and her phone number. I planned on calling her later, arranging to see her. I wanted to go home, change my clothes, think of what to say to her.
But when I got home, hours later, my mother was waiting for me at the front door. Her arms were crossed, and her face resolute.
“Could I have a word, Matthew?”
She didn’t wait for my answer but walked into the drawing room next to the front door. It was a formal space, used by both of us to entertain or have meetings with lawyers, or in her case, foundation workers or trustees. She sat down on one of the elegant chaises, crossed her legs and folded her hands.
I remained standing, impatient to grab a shower.
“What is it, Mother?”
“I want to talk about your relationship with Taya.”
“It’s over, I ended it.”
“I heard you wanted a break.” She was trying to work on me to patch things up with Taya, I thought. But it wouldn’t work.
“I don’t have time for this, Mother!” I said, unusually impatient with her. “I have something to take care of.”
“More important than your future, than this family’s future?” she stood up now, her voice rising. I could tell she was getting upset, working herself up to an argument. I wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Let’s talk about this later, yeah?”
“This isn’t about you!” her voice shook with anger. “Getting married is one of the most important steps you will take in your life! It is how this family survives and your father’s bloodline continues!”
I continued walking out the door and up the stairs.
Her voice carried on after me, like darts stinging me as I went.
I didn’t want to deal with my mother, and I wanted to get away from her as quickly as possible.
My thoughts were filled with Lauren and the baby, visions of the two of us walking with a stroller, the little one chattering away. Or being on the beach somewhere, possibly the Hamptons, my child tottering about on unsteady legs, feeling his or her way on the sand. I saw Lauren and myself, being there, together, united as parents at least.
I didn’t know how I felt about Lauren. I had been convinced that she had been cheating on me for so long, but her words to me this afternoonhad shattered those notions. They’d shown me how ridiculous I had been. Of course, I should have talked to her. But perhaps it had suited me to use her supposed cheating as an excuse to end the relationship. This way, she was to blame, and I didn’t have to take responsibility. It was a cowardly way to act but I knew it was a possibility, that it was probably true. I knew I had to put a stop to our relationship, but I didn’t know how. I had felt this was a weakness in me, this inability to cut ties with Lauren, knowing that our relationship couldn’t continue once I was back in the city. I used a supposed betrayal to punish her by breaking up with her. It was a tactic worthy of my mother. I recognized that this was how she operated. I had seen her deal with people whom she thought had slighted her. There was never a direct confrontation. She preferred some twisted plan to get back at someone. For instance, someone who had not invited her to a society brunch would have to deal with unpleasant rumors about their family later, without knowing where they came from.
I didn’t like these thoughts. They made me feel ill.
I knew I still had feelings for Lauren.
Feelings, which now, were more complicated than ever.
