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  Life, Sideways

  Vicky Blumenfeld has it all: the husband of her dreams, a great job at his pediatric dental practice where she’s the envy of all the patients’ moms, a great set of friends and plenty of money in the bank. The only thing she doesn’t have is kids. And she’s okay with that. Until her husband delivers an ultimatum: either she gives him kids or a she gives him a divorce.

  Realizing they want different things out of life, Vicky reluctantly packs her bags, throwing her perfect life and marriage away because she can’t ever see herself as a mother. But a few weeks later, she finds herself in a family way.

  With her life turned upside down by a couple of lines on a pregnancy test, Vicky has to make a choice—one that will change her life forever no matter what she decides.

  Life, Sideways is a book about the journey of life and how unexpected speedbumps along the road can look an awful lot like baby bumps. Fans of Emily Giffin’s Baby Proof will enjoy this thought-provoking look at the issue of childlessness and the complicated decisions modern women face.

  Life, Sideways

  by

  Michaela Greene

  ISBN-13: 978-1522786535

  ISBN-10: 1522786538

  LIFE, SIDEWAYS

  Copyright © 2015 Michaela Greene

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Kibitz Press 2015

  No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Under no circumstances may any part of this book be photocopied for resale.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters and situations within its pages and places or persons, living or dead, is unintentional and coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Even with chicken in my mouth, I laughed out loud at Sheldon’s ridiculousness. A rerun episode of The Big Bang Theory always marked the dinner hour in the Blumenfeld house, no matter that dinner consisted of Dave and I sitting on our respective sofas staring at the television, our plates perched on TV trays. It was a typical evening, just the way I liked it.

  “Peter called me today,” Dave said from his couch.

  “Mm hmm,” I responded, still watching Sheldon.

  “Katrina’s pregnant.”

  My chewing slowed so I could mentally masticate on where this conversation was going. A ball of dread joined the chicken in my stomach.

  “That’s really great,” I said, popping a fry into my mouth to buy me some time. On one level, I was happy for Peter and Katrina; they’d been trying to get pregnant for about a year. But at the same time, their happy news was going to complicate my life significantly.

  “When are you going to be ready, Vic?” Dave asked predictably.

  “Huh?” I was stalling, but I looked at him, my mind racing, trying to come up with a believable excuse.

  “When can we start trying to have kids?”

  I looked down at my half-eaten dinner, suddenly losing my appetite. “I don’t know, Dave.”

  “Vic…” I could feel his eyes on me. “Vicky?”

  I looked up.

  “You know how much I want a family. You know how much I love kids…”

  And it was true. Dave loved kids and kids absolutely adored Dave. Maybe it was one of the things that had originally attracted me to him; he was just so…I don’t know, husband material. It was almost magical the way he connected with kids, making them laugh and giggle, overcoming their fears. And even though he was a dentist, kids never ever left his office in tears or bearing any hard feelings. It was like he was the miracle dentist, delivering his special magic one mouth at a time.

  On another level, his popularity had caused problems of a different kind when single mothers saw how wonderful he was with their children. It was certainly no anomaly that a growing chunk of Dave’s full practice was made up of single moms who often wore low cut blouses and giggled too much during consultations. But Dave laughed it off, always managing to introduce me, his wife and office administrator, to each and every new patient’s parent.

  “Vic, neither of us is getting younger. I really think we should start now.”

  I dropped my gaze again, not able to look my husband in the eyes. He would be close to tears by now; we’d had this conversation a hundred times. “I’m just not ready.” It was a lie. I was lying to my husband. I had finally realized I would never be ready, but I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it. In the six years of our marriage, as my love for Dave had grown, so had my distaste for the idea of becoming a mother. Looking at a baby held the same fascination for me as looking at a carburetor. Something inside me had just turned off. It was like someone had removed the battery from my biological clock.

  And call me a coward, but I didn’t know how to break it to Dave.

  The first couple years, I had been telling him the truth when I said I just didn’t feel ready; I had really thought the mothering instinct would kick in. But it just never did. And no amount of begging, cajoling or even deal-making could convince me I wanted to have someone on this planet who would call me Mommy.

  A few times, when his tears had become too much, I had almost given in. But I knew deep down, my nagging doubt shouldn’t be ignored. For this one thing, I had to dig in my heels. My days of wading in the warm waters of denial were coming to a close.

  “Will you ever be ready?” Dave’s voice was almost a whisper.

  He’d figured it out. He had finally caught on.

  Panic set in. “Just give me more time,” I said, not believing my own words: the words of a complete and total coward. He was giving me my chance to come clean and I was chickening out.

  I put down my fork so he wouldn’t see my hand shaking.

  “I can’t wait anymore, Vicky.”

  My mouth went dry. I didn’t know what to say.

  “I need a family. I don’t need ten kids, just a couple, Vicky.” He was pleading with me.

  I forced some saliva into my desiccated mouth. “I can’t, Dave.”

  “I think if you had a baby, everything would change.”

  And that’s exactly what I was afraid of. I didn’t want anything to change. I liked my life just the way it was. I liked being number one in Dave’s life and him being number one in mine. I liked having money left over at the end of the month. I liked being able to drop everything and go on a week-long vacation without having to arrange for what to do with kids. I liked not having to waste my evenings driving little Johnny to soccer and little Janie to dance lessons. No, I liked my life just the way it was. It was perfect. And everyone knows you don’t mess with perfection.

  Dave mistook my silence for contemplation. “You are such a warm and caring person; I see you with your sister’s kids and I know you’d be a great mom.”

  I had my own serious doubts. I also suspected he was full of shit, grasping at straws just to further his case. “Dave, Ruby’s kids go home. And it’s easy to be a cool aunt. Being a cool mom is another story.”

  “But if it was your own baby, your own flesh…” His tears were flowing freely now.

  I turned away, afraid the tiny droplets of salty water coming from my husband would erode my resolve.

  If it was my own, I’m so afraid I’d resent you forever. And I just can’t bear the thought of hating you.

  “Dav
e, there are just no guarantees. I’m not bringing a child into this world if I am not a hundred percent sure I want it. I wouldn’t do that to you or a kid.” I shook my head, silently cursing my own tears. “Would you want me to have a baby just because you wanted it, even if I didn’t?”

  His silence answered my question.

  “I can’t do it, Dave. I just can’t.”

  He took a deep breath and chewed on the inside of his cheek before he finally spoke. “Then I want out. I want a divorce.”

  My lungs froze, my breath halting as I tried to process his words.

  “I’m sorry, Vicky, but if we can’t be on the same page with this, I think we need to be with other people.”

  I forced air into my lungs. “Is there someone else?” I almost choked on the words.

  Dave shook his head vehemently. “No. No, of course not. How could you even ask that?” He looked at me, a pained expression on his face. “I’m just saying that we want such different things. This isn’t as simple as choosing where to go on this year’s holiday, or whether to have red or white wine with fish…this is a big deal, Vic. I thought when we got married we were on the same page.”

  And we had been. Or at least, I thought we had. But I’d obviously been kidding myself and lying to Dave when I said I wanted kids. Looking back now, it was easy to see that I should have known, but the allure of being married to Dave had clouded my judgment on matters of my reproductive future. But he’d been such a catch; a good student who knew where he was going and exactly how he was going to get there, throw in handsome and sensitive and how could I not snap him up? Although he’d always told his friends that he’d been the lucky one, I always knew I’d married up. I guess the only thing that ever gave me pause was knowing he wanted to open a pediatric practice. The thought of working with kids all day (crying, unhappy and in-pain kids to boot) had never really appealed to me, but I made that sacrifice.

  Yeah, I really should have known better.

  “I can’t be without you, Dave,” I croaked, my life suddenly crashing in on me.

  “I can’t imagine life without you either, Vic. But if this is how it’s going to be, no matter which one of us gives in, they’re going to resent the other.” He stood up and came over to my couch, sitting down beside me. I threw my arms around him, squeezing him hard, trying to hold on to him as long as I could.

  “I feel just horrible about this,” he said into my neck.

  “Why do you feel bad?” I asked, feeling guilty that he felt guilty.

  “I should have known you didn’t want kids. All the signs were there and I guess I knew deep down. I guess I’ve been in denial.”

  I sniffled. “So why…?”

  He squeezed me tighter. “I love you so much, Vic.” He hiccupped. “I guess I hoped you’d come around.”

  No words came. And even if they had, they would have been choked by the tightness of my throat.

  We sat there, crying in each other’s arms long past the end of the The Big Bang Theory episode. Finally, when I couldn’t imagine either of us having any tears left, we slowly pulled apart.

  “Dave, I love you so much, I can’t let it end over this.”

  “I love you so much, too, Vicky. I almost wish I didn’t: it would make it so much easier to do this.”

  I swallowed and tried to take deep breaths. “Is that it then?”

  He nodded before he hugged me again.

  That night we slept in each other’s arms, both of us trying to gain comfort from the other. Both of us knowing that as close as we were physically, we were still a million miles apart.

  Chapter 2

  It was six a.m. when my eyes blinked open; I knew it was, because the shower was running and if Dave was anything, he was a creature of habit. The events of the evening before came rushing back to me in a cruel wave of grief and horror. Unable to convince myself it had been just a terrible nightmare, I reached to the nightstand for a Kleenex.

  The plumbing whined when Dave turned off the shower and I frantically wiped my face, not wanting him to see me cry again. But my red and swollen eyes would betray me, so I rolled over with my back toward the en suite bathroom, pretending to sleep.

  I heard him shuffle in and could picture what he looked like in his bathrobe and tousled towel-dried hair. He would look cute as hell so it was just better not to look, it was just too hard. But he would go about his morning routine, leaving me to sleep for a bit the way he always did, even though most mornings I lay there awake, just listening as he made his way to and from the bathroom getting ready for work. I would steal peeks at him when I knew he wouldn’t see me and would sometimes get rewarded with a glimpse of him pulling on his Dockers or combing his hair, taking meticulous care to ensure every strand was in place.

  But on this Tuesday morning from hell, Dave broke from routine when he sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of him causing me to roll ever so slightly towards him. “Hey, Babe,” he whispered.

  I opened my eyes.

  He stared down at me, his brow heavy over his eyes. “Why don’t you stay home today? Take the day to just relax, get a massage or something.”

  “Dave,” I managed, before choking on my own saliva. I sat up to face him.

  He took a breath, turning his head so he didn’t have to look at me.

  “I still feel the same way as I did last night,” he said, his voice gentle and calm even as his words carved through my heart.

  “I can’t even think of my life without you.” I pulled the tissue out from under the covers and dabbed at my eyes.

  “Neither can I,” he said, starting to cry.

  I cleared my throat. “How is this going to work?” Maybe if he saw how hard it was going to be, he’d reconsider.

  Dave wiped at the corners of his eyes with his thumb. “I don’t know.”

  I thought about our lives, so completely entwined. We lived together, we worked together. Most of our friends were ‘couple’ friends. Would we just dissolve the marriage and continue along as co-workers and housemates? That couldn’t work: he was leaving me because I wouldn’t have his babies, ergo he would be looking for someone who would. I couldn’t hang around to watch him move on without me.

  “I guess I’ll start looking for a place,” he offered.

  How was I going to survive in the house alone? Even when he went to conferences I just about went out of my head and that was only a few days at a time, and he always came back.

  “No rush,” I tried to sound nonchalant but was desperate for him to stay. I wasn’t ready to be alone and questioned whether I ever would be.

  He tried a smile. “Thanks, Babe. I’d better get ready. You just take it easy today.”

  I snorted, “Should I consider this a constructive dismissal?”

  The way he looked at me made me realize it was the first time it had occurred to him that us working together may not be an ideal situation anymore. He just stared at me for several seconds, but I could see the gears turning.

  I spoke first, letting him off the hook. “Let’s see how it goes, but I will take you up on your offer of my not coming in today.”

  He gave me a hug and then got up off the bed to get ready. I tossed the damp Kleenex onto the nightstand and rolled over, willing myself to return to sleep, at least until Dave’s car rolled out of the garage leaving me alone to ponder the sudden one hundred and eighty-degree shift in my life.

  I wanted desperately to blame him, to hate him for what was happening, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate him for wanting what he had always wanted. It had been me that reneged; I had made a promise I couldn’t keep. He should hate me, but Dave was incapable of hate, never saying a bad thing about anyone; one of his annoying quirks that drove me crazy and left me awestruck at the same time. No, Dave wouldn’t hate me, but that didn’t change the fact that he was still leaving me to pursue the life I wouldn’t give him.

  I had to do something. I couldn’t just lie in bed all day and cry just to have him come home in nin
e hours and find me still here, red-eyed and surrounded by more wet tissues and a requisite empty bag of Oreos. I needed to get up and do something.

  Launching my body out of bed, my brain turned to autopilot, I was out of the shower and dressed in twelve minutes. Before I realized what I was doing, I was on a step stool in the closet reaching for our luggage, a wedding gift from his Aunt Alice. After much reaching and stretching, I managed to pull two of the bags down and dragged them over to the bed. Filling them to maximum capacity, I realized I didn’t know where I was going or what I would even need.

  It didn’t matter; I just needed to get away. Once my clothes were packed, I turned back to the bathroom to get all of my toiletries. I spent a good three minutes staring at our Sonicare toothbrush; it consisted of a rechargeable base and one interchangeable head for each of us. It was just one more way our lives were entwined. Suppressing my guilt, I took the base and my brush head; as of last inventory, he had twenty-four of these things just sitting in boxes in his office. He would manage; he would get a new toothbrush and eventually, he would get a new wife too. And suddenly, I felt like a toothbrush: a part of everyday life which was easy enough to replace when it didn’t fulfill your needs anymore.

  My toiletries case filled up quickly, so in the interest of space, I left some items behind: the massive bottle of bubble bath courtesy of Costco, the pack of contraceptive sponges I had just bought two days prior, and my bikini waxing kit. I could buy a more manageable bottle of bubble bath and the other items I wouldn’t need.

  Returning to the bedroom, I took a deep breath and looked around. Nope, I’ve got everything, I thought, sweeping my eyes from dresser to closet to nightstand. Until my eyes rested on the framed picture on Dave’s nightstand. I walked over to it and picked it up. It was his favorite picture of us. We were on vacation, had taken a Caribbean cruise and were on a day trip in Mexico. We’d walked around the outdoor mall where locals tried to haggle and deal with us when we saw a man and his donkey standing against the wall. We approached and as I stroked the donkey’s soft, fuzzy muzzle, the man told Dave that Pedro, the donkey could give us a ride through the mall for just ten dollars. As if on cue, poor Pedro sighed. Dave and I giggled, but we felt bad for the poor old creature.