“Logan spends most of the day at daycare and he is perfectly fine,” Calvin answered with impatience. “My mother needs constant care right now.”
His mother, Eleanor Whitaker, had recently broken her leg after slipping on a staircase. The injury was inconvenient but far from catastrophic. At sixty five she was energetic, independent, and socially active, the kind of woman who attended theater shows downtown, met friends for long coffee conversations, and somehow still found time to insert herself into every aspect of our family life whenever she visited.
Calling her helpless would have been a dramatic exaggeration.
“When is she arriving,” I asked while sliding a mug of coffee toward him.
“Next Monday morning,” he replied.
The casual tone of his answer made one thing painfully obvious.
The decision had already been made without me. He had spoken with his mother, arranged everything, and simply informed me afterward as if I were part of the household staff.
“You can work from home anyway,” he added while returning his attention to his phone. “Your schedule is flexible.”
“Calvin, I do not run my own business,” I said patiently. “I work for a corporation with deadlines, meetings, and responsibilities.”
He frowned as if the concept were difficult for him to understand.
“Well you know what I mean. A man cannot take care of an elderly woman. That is not a man’s role.”
Not a man’s role.
Yet living comfortably on my income while he spent the last three years “exploring his creative identity” in freelance illustration apparently fit his definition of masculinity perfectly. The mortgage, daycare fees, groceries, utilities, and health insurance had all been covered by my salary during that time, and now he expected me to sacrifice the career that supported our entire household.
“And what happens if I do not agree,” I asked softly.
Calvin stared at me as if I had spoken a completely ridiculous sentence.
“Natalie, do not be unreasonable,” he replied. “My mother raised me alone after my father died and she sacrificed everything for me. I cannot abandon her now, and you are part of this family.”
I am part of the family. Which apparently meant I was expected to sacrifice without question. I sat down across from him and wrapped both hands around the mug of coffee. The ceramic was almost too hot to touch but the heat helped steady my thoughts.