I struggled to figure out what she was getting at. Of course there were pictures of me with Mia.
“Yeah, Mom. What are you getting at?”
“Aidan, how many pictures are there of Grace with Mia?”
I started to protest—there were tons of pictures of Grace with Mia. But then I stopped and opened my camera roll. There were the pictures I’d taken of Mia. Some of Mia with Baxter. Lots of me with Mia that Grace had sent me. A few selfies I’d taken with Mia when I had her in a sling. The only one of Mia and Grace together came shortly after she was born. That was it.
I scrolled and scrolled, going over the same pictures a multitude of times. The facts in front of my face didn’t matter because this seemed inconceivable, to quoteThe Princess Bride.Looking up at my mom, I knew I was missing something bigger than the lack of pictures of Grace, but what?
“I don’t know why I don’t have pictures of Grace with Mia.”
Mom laid a hand on mine as she quietly asked, “Have you taken any?”
I blinked, looking back at the camera roll. Grace had taken some of me and Mia—why hadn’t I done the same? “Is it an excuse if I say I don’t think she asked me to?”
Mom looked at my phone with me and pointed to a few pictures. “Did you ask her to take those?”
I shook my head, but she already knew the answer.
“Sweetheart, I can’t speak for Grace; I can only speak for myself. And I know there are two parents here, but this seems to be an issue prevalent for moms. Not saying it doesn’t happen to dads too. Sometimes, when we become a mom, it’s like our former identity ceases to exist. Like our entire worth is tied up in this one role and we lose ourselves a bit in the process. I’m not saying that’s happening for Grace, but you mentioned feeling the distance between you two when you called yesterday. Maybe she’s a little lost?”
I gave some thought to her words. They matched some of what Grace had said the other day. “But Mom, what does that have to do with the photos?”
Mom pulled up the picture she’d taken of our family just a few hours before. “I just wonder if in losing herself a little bit, which as I said is totally normal, Grace doesn’t see that she’s still beautiful and worthy of being in the pictures. She needs to know that youseeher, Aidan. That you see her as who she was before and who she is now. That you are still attracted to who she has become.”
“Of course I’m still attracted to her,” I sputtered.
Mom’s voice was gentle when she spoke. “Does she know that?”
I thought about Grace’s reaction when I said I’d noticed her dress.Didshe know that? I wanted to say yes, of course, but maybe not? “Mom, am I just a terrible husband?” I slumped down, resting my head in my hands. “I feel like I should know all this. I mean, how do I not know this? Before Mia, Grace and I were solid. How do people do this?”
Mom rubbed my back. “I can’t speak for the world, but I mentioned that your dad and I struggled too when you came along. And again when Declan came, though not as much. Your dad said it was like renegotiating the terms of our relationship because conditions had changed. Honestly, I think that’s smart. You two got together when you were young, just like we did.Of courseyou will change as you get older. That isn’t a problem unless you don’t communicate. I think all couples have a choice. They can grow together, or they can grow apart. How you end up is up to you.”
I spoke to the counter. “So you’re saying I need to talk to her.”
She gave me a firm pat on the back. “Yep, and there’s no time like the present. I’ll hang out here and watch Baxter.”
I looked to the corgi, who was crashed out under the Christmas tree in the corner. “Tough job, Mom.”
“I know. I might need a glass of beer from that brewery you’re all crazy about to tide me over.”
“Don’t work too hard,” I muttered as I headed for our bedroom to the familiar sound of my mom’s low laughter.
“It’s a hardship, my baby boy.”
I shook my head as I listened to Mom talking to Baxter, telling him he was the “goodest dog ever,” and I turned the corner into our bedroom. Grace was sitting against the tall wooden headboard, legs stretched out, in multicolored pajama pants and a light blue tank that was pulled up as she nursed Mia, who seemed much more content than she’d been earlier.
Grace didn’t even seem to register that I was in the room. Her eyes were closed, her head lightly swaying as she listened to some music coming out of the speaker in the room. I paused, catching the song quickly. It was one of her favorites, Chris Cornell’s tribute to Prince with “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
I leaned against the wall and watched her, my toes digging into our rug, caught in the beauty of this woman I’d loved for almost a third of my life. There wasn’t anything that compared to her. She was my north star.
Grace was lost in the music as she whispered some of the words, clearly trying to stay quiet for little Miss Mia. I shook my head; my girl certainly did love music. Always had.
Actually, come to think of it, Grace hadn’t been playing music since we had Mia. I mean, she had some new kids’ music she played occasionally, but it used to be if she was home before me, music would be blaring as she danced around the kitchen, whipping up some dinner as she sang. My gut sank as I realized that had been another change in her that I’d just… missed. Was that due to postpartum depression and I hadn’t caught it? Or just a change in what she liked? Seemed like something I should have noticed.
“Are you just going to stand there like a creeper?” Grace’s hushed voice brought my attention back to the room.
I looked her way and gave her a sheepish smile. “You caught me. Came up to take the little one to bed and saw you doing your own silent karaoke. Reminded me that I hadn’t heard you playing music much lately and wondered why.”
