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Our new house was outside of the city, a Georgian brick house with a huge stretch of lawn and trees. We’d looked at so many houses by then, but when we saw this place, both of us could see us living there. There were two storeys, and vast rooms, more than I knew what we could do with.
“It’s so quiet here,” I said, marveling at the lack of city noises. “But isn’t it too far from the city?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have to go to the office every day now. And there is plenty of space for the kids to cycle and play,” said Matthew, peering down the wide, tree-lined avenues.
“What kids?” I asked him, with a smile.
He didn’t say anything then, but later as we drove back, he told me of a dream he’d had. He wanted to talk to me about it, to see what I thought. I could see he was a bit nervous about the idea. Then he said, “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “About us fostering a child. Maybe two, but one to begin with.”
“A foster child?”
The last couple of months, Matthew had been undergoing so many changes. It started when he made peace with his mother one evening. She came over for dinner and we had a bottle of wine. I went to bathe Jonathan and I heard them talking downstairs. I came down and saw that Matthew had opened another bottle of wine. Cynthia was talking about Bert and some Christmas when she gave the cook the day off and tried to make roast lamb and forgot all about the meat in the oven, ruining it completely.
“I remember that!” Matthew exclaimed. “We had frozen pizza with the roast potatoes and salad! It was one of the best Christmas lunches ever!”
“It was a nightmare!” Cynthia said. “I was furious with myself, but your father just laughed and heated more pizza!” She closed her eyes. “Your father was always more forgiving than I was.” Cynthia said in a brittle voice. “But I think I became even less forgiving after he died. ”She paused. “For a long time, I couldn’t even forgive him for dying.”
Things were different between them after that evening.
After quitting Egal, Matthew started working with a children’s charity in the city. He told me he was thinking a lot about children who didn’t have the opportunities that he’d had in his life. He wanted to help others. He’d met a boy there and he wanted to become a foster parent.
“I know it’s a big move,” he said. “I don’t know how you feel about it.”
I had my hands full with the baby and was feeling so overwhelmed by motherhood. Every day, something new seemed to crop up; an allergy I hadn’t known about or a rash that looked nasty. I didn’t know if I had it in me to take on other people’s children and their problems.
“I was thinking, what if we started only with weekends? I could take him fishing, the way my granddad did with me?”
I could handle that.
The following weekend, Matthew came home with Trevor, a quiet 16-year-old with terrible skin and a bad attitude. Over the next few months, Trevor slowly started warming to us and I guess I got used to him. It became a thing, Matthew would take Trevor golfing or hiking, and my mother would come over to watch Jonathan while I did some shopping. On Sundays, we had a big meal as a family and sometimes my mother and Vic joined us. Matthew would talk about the stock market casually, almost as if he was thinking aloud. I knew he was trying to share some of his knowledge with Trevor, possibly interest him in the financial markets. He’d already told me how smart Trevor was and that he intended to pay for his studies if he chose to go to college.
One morning, I woke up to find his side of the bed empty.
I went looking for him in our house, half-asleep, stumbling through the big rooms I was still getting used to. I found him on the couch in our living room, the baby in his arms, both fast asleep. The place was covered in blankets and pillows that he’d turned to face the couch to ensure Jonathan didn’t fall off. I leaned forward to adjust the hood away from the baby’s face and Matthew’s eyes fluttered open.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said to me with a tired smile.
I looked at his two-day stubble, the hair that had grown too long and was hanging in his eyes. He was a far cry from the jet-setting businessman he’d been only a year ago when I started working at the company. But there was something incredibly sexy about this Matthew, who had happily traded in his sports car for a less fancy model that could accommodate baby seats and a stroller in the boot. This Matthew no longer had six pack and rock-hard abs, but his eyes were softer, and he smiled more. He was kinder, he was more loving and maybe as a result, he was happier.
I was happier too.
He may have broken my heart once, but he had mended it too.
I was the one who gave him a second chance, but he had given me more happiness than I’d ever known and a meaning to life that I didn’t even know existed. I had no idea what the future held for us, but I was no longer afraid, nolonger worried about it. I knew we could handle it, together.
*****
THE END
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I never thought I would see him again. Not after he dumped me, and the way that he had dumped me!
Only 19 and so naïve!
