Eileen Slovak

Chapter Thirty-five: Sister Envy

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Catherine

At home I’m brooding, increasingly annoyed that Scarlet has not bothered to return my calls. While Charlotte naps, I phone my friend Stacey. She has such an easy-going nature. Nothing ever gets her down. She’s the perfect friend to call when I need a spirit lift. Ever since we met in college, our lives have paralleled, creating a unique bond. After Stacey’s fourth son was born, she and her family moved to upstate Massachusetts. We still make a point to get together with the children for occasional play dates. Stacey’s life is even crazier than mine, but she takes it all in stride. While I wait for her to pick up, I will myself to emulate her.

      For the past four years, I’ve been avoiding mirrors. My body bounced back quickly after Michael was born. With Christopher following so close behind, then Charlotte, it left me in terrible shape. Exercising with a toddler in tow is more challenging than I’d imagined. At the end of an exhausting day, it’s simpler to eat macaroni and cheese, or chicken strips, than to make a salad.

      My body is easier to cover up than to do anything about. I feel like my curves are in all the wrong places. There’s the side of the thigh bulge, the extra roll protruding from under the bra and the ever-pregnant looking belly pooch. So far, I’ve avoided the cafeteria lady biceps, flapping in the wind whenever I wave. Trips to the gym and beauty parlor take a backseat to story time and the endless piles of laundry and dishes. When Stacey picks up, I barely allow her to say hello.

      “I feel so unattractive,” I groan. “I can deal with losing my career, my identity, but my looks too? That seems too unfair.”

      “Catherine, you know the more you look in the mirror the uglier you get? I’m telling you. I gave up sex for Twinkies after the third baby, and never looked back. You need to learn how to relax more. Don’t take it all so seriously. I kept ten extra pounds after each baby. Keith’s a big guy who loves to eat. As long as I keep cooking, he’s happy. I accepted my new shape and bought bigger clothes.”

      “How do you always manage to cheer me up?”

      “Because, I know what matters honey. Oh, hang on a second,” she says. She shouts in the background: “JOHN ALEX REYNOLDS! YOU PUT THAT HAMMER DOWN! RIGHT NOW! IF YOU HIT YOUR BROTHER WITH THAT, YOU ARE GOING TO BE ONE SORRY LITTLE BOY! BRING IT! I’ve got to go, sweetie. Keith keeps leaves his tools laying around. All hell’s breaking loose over here. Let’s get together soon! Keep your chin up!”

      “Thanks! I will!”

      Motherhood is worth every sacrifice of course; especially if I’m the mother I always hoped to be. But am I? I imagined it all so differently. In my motherhood fantasy, there were sunny picnics in the park, blissful afternoons playing board games, cookie baking and lots of naps. There were lazy summer days in the porch rocker reading to angelic offspring. When Michael was a baby, my expectations were occasionally close to reality. Then with the addition of each new child, things slowly spun out of control.

      From the middle of the kitchen, I survey the damage that is my life. Play Dough permanently stains the tile grout. Finger paint and crayon mark the walls. In the living room, I collect the books with ripped pages and the board games missing crucial pieces. I catch myself mindlessly eating half a dozen cookies straight from the package. Somehow, I still harbor guilt feelings over not giving Christopher and Charlotte the same amount of attention I gave Michael.

      Whenever I bring up the subject, Gary says: “I thought this is what you wanted?”

      “It is, or it was. But why do I feel like my whole life changed, while you only had to tweak a few things?”

      Gary took a few days off for each birth, then went back to work. I gave up my career, law school and spent weeks recovering while caring for newborns. Now raising two wild boys and a toddler while juggling all of the household responsibilities, I feel completely abandoned. If I bring it up to Gary, he’ll say: “Are we going to have this same argument again?”

      I know quitting my job to raise my children was the right decision. What do I want? What’s wrong with me? Why isn’t motherhood second nature? Is it to any woman?

      Gary’s working late again on a case. I eat dinner with the kids, then bathe them and put them to bed. Changing into my nightgown, I stand staring into the bathroom mirror, as my image suddenly fades away completely. I rub my eyes, splash cool water on my face, but still can’t focus my vision properly. I give up waiting for Scarlet to call me back. Not even attempting to mask my annoyance, I call her.

      “Where are you?”

      “I just walked in the door. I’m warming up some soup in the microwave.”

      “No wonder you’re so thin.”

      “That’s all there was. What’s bugging you?”

      “Oh, nothing, except I’m invisible.”

      “What did Gary do now?”

      “No, I’m telling you, this is a sign. One minute I was looking in the mirror, the next my image completely disappeared, right before my eyes! It’s symbolic. All that I am is literally vanishing, like some cruel magic trick. Gary doesn’t even see me anymore. It’s as if I don’t exist.”

      “Catherine, it’s called low blood sugar. It happens to me all the time. Eat a cookie or something.”

      “Oh, great idea, that’s what my big fat rear end needs, another cookie!”

      “Why don’t you and Gary take a weekend getaway? I’ll come watch the kids for you. I think you need a nice break.”

      “You’re going to manage the kids for a whole weekend?”

      “You know, it’s insulting you have no confidence in me. Besides, how hard can it be?”

      “Thanks. Even you don’t have any respect for what I do. I don’t know why I thought you’d understand.”

      “I’m sorry! You know I don’t mean it that way. I meant that I can handle it for one weekend, not forever. Trust me on that. Give me an example of a typical day in the life of Catherine McKnight.”

      I thought about this for a moment.

      “Well…yesterday I got everybody up, dressed, fed, made the lunches and dropped the boys off at school. I came home and played with Charlotte while doing four loads of laundry. Then I emptied the dishwasher, changed four beds, prepped dinner, and mopped the floor. It was time to pick up the boys. After that, I made, served and cleaned up dinner. I bathed the kids, read stories, broke up a toothpaste fight between the boys and tucked everyone into bed. When Gary got home, I heated up some dinner for him while we watched the Miss Tropical Beauty Pageant. After the swimsuit competition, we actually had sex for the first time in weeks. It was a pretty good day.”

      “That’s horrendous! Is that really your life? I’m never getting married. I can’t believe he made you watch that trashy pageant.”

      “The pageant was my idea. I thought it would get him in the mood. Turns out I was right.”

      “I’d be too exhausted after that day.”

      “I was, but I take my opportunities when they come.”

“I’m sorry.”

      “For what?”

      “For thinking you have the perfect life. For not offering to babysit sooner.”

      “Scarlet, you’ll see. Once you’ve been married a few years, you reach a point when you realize that your dreams are different. You’re never going to be a supermodel. You’re not going to meet a millionaire bachelor or jet off to the south of France. And you’re not going to be the next great American novelist. I mean, this is it. This is my life.”

      “Wow. I can’t imagine feeling that way. It’s so devoid of…hope.”

      “Of course, you can’t imagine it. You still have a chance to do something great.”

      “I can’t believe you have to give up living to have a family. Every woman wants what you have: a happy marriage, three great kids, with a house in the suburbs. You can’t tell me it’s all a big lie.”

      “I never said that. Sometimes I think we’ve been sold a bill of goods by social media. It’s this great illusion if you believe the internet. The reality is a completely different story. I always feel like I’m doing it wrong. I love my kids and my husband. It’s the rest of it, that’s so frustrating. If I had never worked, maybe I wouldn’t know what I was missing. I’d be content to do the volunteer thing, the play dates, and the rest. Who knows?”

      “Well, it’s got to be like any other job, you’re bound to get bored. Maybe you need a change.”

      “Maybe I should go on that family swap reality TV show?”

      “Couldn’t hurt.”

      “Like it or not, this job is for life,” I say, “I can’t quit.”

      “There has to be a support group or something.”

      “Yeah, it’s called Alcoholics Anonymous.”

      “Speaking of bad habits, what are you giving up for lent?”

      “Not wine, it’s my only sanity. Maybe I’ll give up complaining. Even I’m tired of listening to me, so you know it must be bad.”

      “That’s a great idea. If you do that, I’ll give up being judgmental. According to my friends, that’s my biggest issue.”

      “That is a big one. Think you can do it?”

      “Nope.”

      “Thanks for listening.”

      “One thing I can do is problem solve. I do it all day long. It’s much easier when the problems aren’t mine. Listen, I’m beat. I’ve got to hit the sack.”

      “You’re going to bed awfully early!”

      “That’s the exciting life I lead! See what you’re missing? I have an early flight out of T.F. Green.”

      “Oooo, going anywhere exotic?”

      “West Virginia. Not exotic at all.”

      “You get to sleep in a hotel room with room service and movie channels. Plus, you have the remote all to yourself. Sounds like heaven!”

      “I’m pretty sure where I’m going is nothing like heaven. Want to take my place? We look enough alike.”

      “Don’t tempt me. Have a safe trip.”

      “Night.