It all started when my husband, Dan decided to cancel going on our trip to see Lucy and her family. It turns out he would rather go on a hiking/fishing/drinking trip than accompany me to see my sister when she needed me.
Actually, it started before that. Three months earlier, in March, she had complications with her pregnancy. The doctors did what they could, but it was clear she was going to need a Caesarian, and would need weeks if not months to recover from it.
We agreed to come visit and help her out during the first couple weeks, when she would need it the most. And when I say we, I mean both of us agreed to go. He canceled just two weeks before we were set to go. We fought over it, but he held his ground. His friend was about to be deployed to a hot zone, and might not come back. He thought it was more important to see his buddy. I was still pissed. She is my sister.
But really, it all started years before when Lucy first brought Steve home for Christmas. She was twenty at the time, and in her Sophomore year. Bringing him home was a big deal, especially for me. It meant that they were serious. He was husband material. I paid a lot of attention to that.
Naturally, Lucy had dated when she was in middle and high school, and like all little sisters, I was very curious about what it was all about. It seemed like they did fun things like roller skating or watching movies. By the time Steve came to visit, I was sixteen, and I understood it better. Still, I was fundamentally aware that the dating I was doing was a fun diversion, more like going out with a friend than planning for a future. This was something different.
I ended up with a huge girlish crush on Steve. To me, he seemed like the most perfect man in the world. Why else would my sister have chosen him? He was tall and handsome with curly chocolate-brown hair, and dark smoldering eyes. He had a smooth baritone voice, and was quick to tell a joke. He had a quiet confidence about him that was captivating.
Oh, I envied Lucy for having him, but I was also supremely happy for her. I love her so much. She was the perfect big sister, always helping me with homework, or teaching me to ride a bike. It was Lucy who taught me how to dress nicely and put on make-up, "enough to show, but not enough to show off." Of course we would fight sometimes, but I loved her dearly. She was my hero.
Nevertheless, it was instilled in my brain that he was the most perfect possible man. Consciously or not, all of my boyfriends have ended up looking a little like Steve in one way or another. Dan looked like he could be Steve's kid brother.
Lucy and Steve were married shortly after they graduated, while I was still a Freshman in college. They moved to a big house outside of Akron, Ohio. In a little over a year, they had their first daughter, Gillian.
Dan and I met at a Christmas ball during our Senior year. We were both coming out of relationships, and looking for something serious. He seemed so perfect. He was handsome, respectful, and studious, but had a cheerful, playful side too. We had a whirlwind romance and were married just 8 months later.
Now Lucy and Steve were going to have their second daughter, and they needed our help. Of course, I would do anything for Lucy. Like I said, she was my hero, and I owed so much to her. The timing was even good. I was a teacher, and she was due at the beginning of summer break.
It was shocking to me when Dan refused to go. His excuse seemed poor to me. I understood that he wanted to see his friend, but I thought I would need his help. And anyway, I was his WIFE for Christ's sake. He should pick me over his buddy. It was the first really big fight we ever had, and I felt like my heart was breaking.
So I put on my best face and flew off to Akron for two weeks without him. It was the first flight on Tuesday morning. Steve, ever the gentleman, offered to pick me up at the Airport, but I declined. Lucy had just been released from the hospital, and she would need him to be there. I could take the shuttle.
When I got there, they were both pretty out of it. Steve had been up for like 30 hours straight looking after one thing or another. Lucy was still recovering from her operation, and was on meds. They weren't the really good stuff, so she was still in a lot of pain, but they still made her sort of foggy and sleepy. The poor couple were like zombies.
I felt bad for Lucy. Besides her obvious pain, everything about her seemed messed up. Normally, Lucy and I look a lot alike. You can tell instantly that we're sisters. We both have long honey brown hair, light brown eyes and straight perfect noses. She's a couple inches taller than me, and normally thin and athletic with long legs and trim little a-cup breasts. In high school she was a borderline jock. She did cross country running and basketball. I have a bit more womanly shape, with a bit bigger hips and more up top. The only sports I did were tennis and debate.
The pregnancy and operation had done a number on her, though. She looked like a different person. Her hair was cut off in a short "mommy cut", which made sense, but it was also greasy and unkempt looking. With a bunch of extra weight, she no longer looked like an athlete. Her little boobs now bulged out of her nursing bra. Worst of all, she hunched over while walking, which made her look shorter than me.
That, of course, was the whole point of me being there. I straight away sent them both to bed and got to work. My goal was to take everything possible off of Lucy's plate. It turned out that the most important thing was to keep their daughter, Gillian busy. If she wasn't constantly entertained, she would go and wake up Lucy or, worse still, disturb baby Grace.
Pretty quickly, I realized that if I told her what I was doing, she always wanted to help. Her "help" normally made things take twice as long, but that was OK. It was keeping her busy. We managed to clean the house and dishes, do laundry, and cook. I even got her to take a nap. Gillian was pretty well potty trained, but you had to keep reminding her. Of course everything we did would be interrupted frequently by Grace needing a diaper changed or to get milk, or just to be with her mommy. Overall, I think I did a good job.
After the first day, Steve was looking more like himself, and even Lucy seemed a bit less frazzled. We all had dinner together. Gillian showed off how she had helped make the lasagna, and Lucy beamed at her. After dinner, Steve put Gillian to bed, a process that takes well over an hour, and which she told me only daddy can do correctly. Lucy and I finally get a chance to catch up.
"Thank you so much for being here, you've been such a life saver."
"Is it that bad? I don't feel like I'm doing that much," I lied.
"You know, it's a lot harder with Grace. Not only am I practically an invalid, but Jill didn't just go away when Grace was born. If anything, she's more demanding now than she was before. It would be OK, but Grace likes to wake up at night." She took a long breath and let it out, then added, "well, this is the last one."
It took a moment for me to realize she meant the last child. She had always wanted several children, and I knew that Steve was hoping to have a boy. "Oh, once you recover, you'll want to do it again, I'm sure."
"After all the complications this time, it wouldn't be safe to have another one. It could kill me," she sighed, "I had them tie my tubes while they had me cut open."
"Oh my god!" I was shocked, "I had no idea. Are you OK? How is Steve taking it? Does mom know?"
She smiled at my reaction, "So many questions! Am I OK? Not really. It will take months for me to fully recover from the operation. Am I OK with not having any more kids? I don't know. I just have to love the ones I got. We can look into adoption some day. For now, we have all we can handle. As for Steve, he'll be fine once he gets over not getting any sex for a couple of months."
"A couple of months? Poor Steve!"
"Poor Steve? He didn't have to carry an extra thirty pounds for months. He doesn't have to turn into a milking machine. No one cut him open took away what made him a man." She had gone from a Zen master to almost on the point of tears in a matter of seconds.
