their fertility doctor—she decided that the logical, backhanded antidote to entering the IVF gauntlet was a return to nature, if only in the form of landscape architecture courses. By the time she was solidly pregnant, Sandra had a master’s degree. “Talk about silver linings,” she said. Kit had never seen her so happy.
After the amnio came back “normal” times two (the air quotes now a mimed stand-in for the word itself), after the morning sickness (blessedly severe) had passed, they felt giddy, shamelessly smug. They had no intention of trying for more children, no intention of moving, no intention of changing their jobs. They referred to their imminent babies as the two great unknowns. When these invisible creatures began to exert their eight limbs inside the chamber of her body, Sandra called them the two rambunctious unknowns. “Except I know this much: they’re training for the frigging Tour de France.” During the last half of her pregnancy, Sandra reveled in baby books; Kit’s appointed challenge was to make giant strides on writing his own book, racing ahead of himself in an effort to outpace the time he would have to steal from his work life the minute he became a father.
The night of Kit’s graduation from eighth grade, Jasper and his mother took him out for dinner at a starched-linen restaurant. Nosooner had they placed their orders than Kit’s mother proposed an idea she was certain would, as she put it so cheerfully, so succinctly, “simplify everyone’s life.” She leaned toward Kit. “Next fall, suppose I could rent a tiny apartment near my school? Near Nana and Papa. You could go to school with me, and we’d stay there four nights a week. Fridays, we’d come back here.” Her smile swiveled toward Jasper.
Jasper gripped a roll in one hand, a knife in the other. He looked at Kit. “I’m not crazy about this notion your mother’s cooked up, but I said she could try it out on you.”
Kit said, “Well, no. No, I’d rather not.”
His mother frowned. “Rather not? Why not?”
“Come on, Mom. I mean, I have this life here, at school. My friends. My team. Like everything is here.” Kit ran cross-country. He liked hanging out with his teammates. He also liked a girl named Madeleine. At the big table in art class, they pulled their stools close, their bodies exchanging a mutual electricity. Madeleine admired the rickety cartoon strips he drew whenever the teacher let them indulge in “free drawing.” Except for science, Kit liked just about everything related to school.
“But Kyle’s leaving the high school here. It’ll just be you,” said his mother.
The regional high school would be a big change, he knew that, but this time he looked forward to the change. He and his local friends would travel together on the bus. They would still have one another.
“I vote no,” he said. “Sorry, Mom.”
She looked at Jasper. “Don’t you see how this makes sense?”
“Things that make sense don’t always make sense.” Jasper shrugged. “I’d rather have you both here as much as possible, you know that. Weekends, I’m working more often than not.”
“I can’t be here as much as even I would like!” Kit’s mother said, her sudden sorrow jarring.
Kit knew he was hurting her with his refusal, but she was the one who’d brought him to Jasper’s remote house and sparsely populated town, and now that he liked it, the life she had chosen for both of them, he had no desire to trade it for yet another.
“Daphne, darling.” Jasper cleared his throat. “I’d like to say youcould quit your job, and I reckon that if I get ahead on the boys’ college loans, then in two or three years—”
“Two or three years is all I have before Kit’s gone, too! And Jasper, I like my job. You know that. What would I do all winter here, all day long—or should I say all day
short
, considering how soon the sun sets behind that mountain?”
“Bake your splendid pies?”
Kit saw, as
After the amnio came back “normal” times two (the air quotes now a mimed stand-in for the word itself), after the morning sickness (blessedly severe) had passed, they felt giddy, shamelessly smug. They had no intention of trying for more children, no intention of moving, no intention of changing their jobs. They referred to their imminent babies as the two great unknowns. When these invisible creatures began to exert their eight limbs inside the chamber of her body, Sandra called them the two rambunctious unknowns. “Except I know this much: they’re training for the frigging Tour de France.” During the last half of her pregnancy, Sandra reveled in baby books; Kit’s appointed challenge was to make giant strides on writing his own book, racing ahead of himself in an effort to outpace the time he would have to steal from his work life the minute he became a father.
The night of Kit’s graduation from eighth grade, Jasper and his mother took him out for dinner at a starched-linen restaurant. Nosooner had they placed their orders than Kit’s mother proposed an idea she was certain would, as she put it so cheerfully, so succinctly, “simplify everyone’s life.” She leaned toward Kit. “Next fall, suppose I could rent a tiny apartment near my school? Near Nana and Papa. You could go to school with me, and we’d stay there four nights a week. Fridays, we’d come back here.” Her smile swiveled toward Jasper.
Jasper gripped a roll in one hand, a knife in the other. He looked at Kit. “I’m not crazy about this notion your mother’s cooked up, but I said she could try it out on you.”
Kit said, “Well, no. No, I’d rather not.”
His mother frowned. “Rather not? Why not?”
“Come on, Mom. I mean, I have this life here, at school. My friends. My team. Like everything is here.” Kit ran cross-country. He liked hanging out with his teammates. He also liked a girl named Madeleine. At the big table in art class, they pulled their stools close, their bodies exchanging a mutual electricity. Madeleine admired the rickety cartoon strips he drew whenever the teacher let them indulge in “free drawing.” Except for science, Kit liked just about everything related to school.
“But Kyle’s leaving the high school here. It’ll just be you,” said his mother.
The regional high school would be a big change, he knew that, but this time he looked forward to the change. He and his local friends would travel together on the bus. They would still have one another.
“I vote no,” he said. “Sorry, Mom.”
She looked at Jasper. “Don’t you see how this makes sense?”
“Things that make sense don’t always make sense.” Jasper shrugged. “I’d rather have you both here as much as possible, you know that. Weekends, I’m working more often than not.”
“I can’t be here as much as even I would like!” Kit’s mother said, her sudden sorrow jarring.
Kit knew he was hurting her with his refusal, but she was the one who’d brought him to Jasper’s remote house and sparsely populated town, and now that he liked it, the life she had chosen for both of them, he had no desire to trade it for yet another.
“Daphne, darling.” Jasper cleared his throat. “I’d like to say youcould quit your job, and I reckon that if I get ahead on the boys’ college loans, then in two or three years—”
“Two or three years is all I have before Kit’s gone, too! And Jasper, I like my job. You know that. What would I do all winter here, all day long—or should I say all day
short
, considering how soon the sun sets behind that mountain?”
“Bake your splendid pies?”
Kit saw, as
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