Changing Sides, Changing Tides

Prompt: And yet she felt that, however she might revile and mock his image, her anger was also a form of homage. She had left the classroom in disdain that was not wholly sincere, feeling that perhaps the secret lay behind those dark eyes upon which his long lashes flung a quick shadow. This anger against him was nameless and offended her baffled pride.

George Baker got down on his knees in the midst of a roaring crowd, that he himself organised, to propose to the lovely, Christine Scott. Back then he said, “Christine, I will love you and honor you all the days of my life, will you be my beautiful wife?” And while Christine saw the love of her life promise himself to her, the crowd stood witness to a union of two beautiful lives. 
Michael was 3 years old now and had learnt to walk just enough to get him from one room to the other and innocent that he was, he seemed he knew what was happening between his parents. Michael could guess when something wasn't right and when tension grew and he cried at the feel of it. He cried when his mother cried and he cried when his dad yelled.

George and Christine found themselves in a beautiful apartment in Manhattan. Their home was exactly the way Christine dreamed it to be: a place where they both had reason to be a part of each other’s busy lives. For what can a man and woman do to survive this increasingly tough economy and still give time to each other?  They can come home to each other. And that’s what they did.

Every evening Christine came home from another day at the office and awaited George’s homecoming.  Her colleagues at Harwick industries, a growing name in the textile producing sector, had all been there when Christine threw her bouquet. They were all there and they were happy for her, just as she was.

And when George came home from his real estate job, there was nothing more welcoming than his wife’s sweet embrace.

The neighbors swore by their intimacy saying it was the only sound close to noise that they ever heard from the Baker’s room.  They were one of the newest couples on the block and had people’s attention wherever they went. The Bakers were recognized by the nearby coffee shops, the launders, the diners and the cinema.  There was just one more thing left to complete them and that came in the form of a surprise.

The Bakers now had a little one to hold who shared not only their surname but also their looks. Little baby, Michael had his father’s eye lashes and his mother’s pink nose. He had his father’s jaw but his mother’s lips.  ‘Rosy’ is what they called his cheeks, but George preferred the word ‘handsome’.

Having a child may put a woman’s life on hold for nine months and definitely bring a number of changes into daily living but these things are a given.  A child brings along with him a number of responsibilities on the part of his parents and also an amount of liability. These things are a small price to pay for what you get in return: Love.

George and Christine loved Michael deeply. 

When Christine broke the news to George, he picked her up and spun her around and then got down on his knees once more and kissed her womb, the womb that carried his promise of love to her. They loved Michael much before he was given into their hands

Michael may have been their pride and joy, but no one can blame this darling for what was to become of them 5 years from then. Poor Michael, he was too young to know.

Life became difficult, as it does with most newly born parents. Diapers were just one of the problems.  Savings, work hours, baby sitters,  finances, groceries, medical check-ups, toys, the clutter, the mess, the unorganized sleep schedules, the crying, the feeding, the weight,  the diets, the time, it was all a part of life, but not the kind that they were prepared for.

Christine was at the peak of her career and was soon to receive a promotion while George’s job suffered.  Every hour that he worked payed for the child’s needs. Every penny he made was now either in savings or in spending on a wife and child while real estate wasn't doing too well or maybe it was just him.

Stress and uncertainty in a work life can take a big toll on personal living and Christine saw the worst of it. It was difficult now to keep the romance alive between the two. Why alive? She couldn't even find the time to think of it, for no fault of hers that is. Between a demanding job and a mother's trials, the last thing she had time for was a candle lit dinner. Sometimes, George came home to no wife at all but a baby sitter and his handsome little boy.

Christine was expected to work late most evenings and she hated every bit of it, but knowing that her husband’s job was not the best one at the time, she was responsible now for the family just as much as he was. The dream they had of having more two or three kids was far fetched now.

Reality caught up with them.

The neighbors now heard noise. They heard doubts in yelling voices, they heard cries of not just an infant, they heard anger and stress levels rise, they even heard blood pressure rise.  It was never a private affair, these two, because they were after all a recognizable part of the neighborhood.

While they did their best to sort it out and keep their lives within their homes, the word naturally gets around. The word gets around whether you like it or not.  And while the people spoke, nothing was made better.

Michael cried when his dad barged out the door and swore he was never coming back.

It has been three years since the separation, since George got down on his knees in court and kissed his little boy goodbye. Not forever, he would meet him on the weekends but not throughout the week.  It’s been three years since Christine wept herself to sleep after George walked out on her and after having put Michael to sleep, lying to him, telling that precious little boy that everything would be okay.

The struggle was long, the nights were sleepless, Christine now had a child to raise, and a life to move on with. The first year was bad. Bad would be an understatement.  Her life seemed to have been falling apart. 

Soon after the separation, Michael fell ill with a flu so bad that she had to take leave from work to look after him. She couldn't work late now, now that she had no husband to count on.

Every night his words came back to her, “I will love you and honor you all the days of my life”.

Sometimes she laughed and then broke down into tears. Sometimes she cried endlessly. Many a times, she sat herself down on the bathroom floor and wept till that was all the energy she could give to weeping. She had to save some of her energy for when Michael got up from his nap.

She knew that she had made mistakes, she and George, both. She also knew that it was wrong of him to leave and she wondered where the man she loved had gone and when had he left and she wasn't thinking about the divorce. He had left long before that night.

Christine had to keep living and living well, she couldn't let her health deteriorate and she couldn't let this failure in their marriage ruin Michael’s life. They both knew well that separation shouldn't be something that Michael gets the worst of.

And so Michael was sent to school, to a good school and was given all that he needed to develop holistically. From 1^st grade art school to music lessons and basketball coaching. Michael was a good student until a fight broke out in one of his classes. That was just the first of many. Over a period of time, Michael’s ordeals with his classmates grew more frequent and sometimes out of control what could a six year old boy do to harm another six year old boy?

Apparently, a lot, when you have a basketball in hand.

It wasn't long before Christine received a call from Mrs Jones asking to meet both, her and Mr Bakers at the school.  Mrs Jones was aware of Michael’s parents’ separation, but she needed to speak to them about their son’s behavior in class. He was acing every subject but his behavior was to be looked into.

Christine did what she had to. She gave George a call and didn't waste time on the small talk. Three years of separation saw enough of awkward small talk and she knew it wasn't helping anyone anymore. 

Although she and George met every weekend to drop Michael off at each other’s places, they never really spoke. He didn't look like he wanted to. She looked like she needed to. But no words could help her unspoken emotions.

The school bells rang loud and clear while the kids shuffled out of their classrooms and into the lunch room.  Michael spotted his mom sitting on a bench outside his classroom and his dad sitting at the other end of the same bench. He ran to his mom and his dad and took turns at receiving a kiss from them both. He then went to the lunch room himself and caught up with some of his friends while his parents walked into the classroom.

This was the longest they were near each other since a very long time and what hurt her most at this point was how composed George was throughout. It didn't look like it affected him even a bit to have been separated, to have loved and then lost or to have known someone, lived with that someone, made love to that someone and then, here, sit by this someone and be as ignorant to all of it as a man without a memory, let alone a man without a heart.

As these thoughts ran through her head, she made her way into the classroom along with him, without carrying out any conversation.

If there was one thing she would have loved to believe it was that he had the pride of a man who never stooped to show his emotions. Isn't that want men boast about? Isn't that what they consider ‘manly’? She could see traits of this quality in her son too. The poor little boy knew not how to channelize his emotions growing up with just a mother around most of the time. A little boy needs his father in equal measure.

She may not have wanted to admit it, but there was a voice within her that hoped the teacher would side with her on that point…

But the teacher said none of it. It was the teacher’s responsibility to bring to their notice the behavior that Michael was displaying among his classmates. She used the terms ‘aggressive’, ‘impulsive’ and she even said ‘hyperactive’.  And these words were like spears through Christine’s heart. Her young boy being judged like this or rather, evaluated like this for no fault of his, the emotional turmoil of having parents that have separated is not fair to any child. And her anger grew and grew until she couldn't take it anymore. 

She rose and thanked the teacher for her concern even before the teacher could finish. She didn't feel the need to hear it all. She knew.

When they were out, she turned to him and said “I do not know if you are to blame for this or I am to blame for this. But that doesn't matter anymore, I’m done thinking this is about us, you and I are out of the picture now, Michael needs a better life, he needs a stable life.

I don’t know if you care enough, but there’s no going back to what you and I were. Fix this George, fix his life up, you may have got an out from our failing marriage but you don’t get an out here, especially when you bring a child into this world” , thoughts of every single moment they shared together flashed back in a flood of tears, something she wished would never happen to her in front of him.

He held her shoulders and she could feel a tremble in his arm, a shiver she recognized from before.

Back when an argument found its way to their dinner table when times were hard and she cried and he went down on his knees and held her hands, he had trembled then too. That night he admitted that he was as scared as she was about the troubled times they were going through and that was when she felt the human likeness in him. She knew then he had emotions that never really show.

This was something she had forgotten for a while now.  Now she remembered.

There were two sides to this story. Only hers was known to her.

He assured her that he would do what it takes to allow Michael to change his behavior and then he bid her goodbye and left.

He left once more. This time, she did not hurt as bad. George held a secret. A secret only he knew; the reason he had left in the first place.

If he could live with that shiver, then most definitely, he felt something. And if he hurt deep inside and could live with it, he knew what he was doing. And yet she felt that, however she might revile and mock his image, her anger was also a form of homage. She had left the classroom in disdain that was not wholly sincere, feeling that perhaps the secret lay behind those dark eyes upon which his long lashes flung a quick shadow. This anger against him was nameless and offended her baffled pride.

But that was it.  Pride.  Pride was the cause and result of it all.