Guilt gnaws at my insides. Would they still love me as much if I gave up the job that’s building them a better future? Or would they hold it against me when they’re older? Would they harbour resentment for not having every option laid out for them?
I don’t know. Ican’tknow.
We grew up in different times, a different place. In the nineties and early aughts, growing up in a mining town like Val-d’Or, there were opportunities aplenty for the men who were willing and able to work hard. Even an entry-level job like helper at a diamond drill represented enough money to raise a family with several kids on a single salary. That’s what my father did.
He quickly made his way through the ranks and into upper management while my mother stayed home to raise me. Sure, he worked long hours sometimes, but I never missed out on anything because my mother was fully focused on me.
Things are different today, especially living in the city, where living costs are so much higher than in Val-d’Or. I would have to double my current salary if Rachel were to stop working and spend more time with the boys.
Not that I want that for her. She always made it clear to me that her career is vital to her. But it does mean that my boys are growing up in a completely different reality than me.
I never grew to resent my father for his career. He worked hard, yes, but I never felt lonely.
But what about my boys? Are they already growing distant from me as I spend fewer and fewer family dinners with them, attend fewer and fewer bedtimes? Or would it be worse if I sacrificed their secure futures?
Those haunting thoughts swirl through my mind as I take Cayce inside for his bathroom break. They fester while I wait outside the bathroom door, while I zip Cayce back up into his snow suit.
Only her familiar footsteps pull me out of the nightmare.
I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Rachel coming down the stairs. I’d know her cadence anywhere. A deep-set instinct to turn around, grab her by the hips, and lift her up to kiss her senseless takes over my body, but I resist.
That’s not what she wants from me right now. If she wants anything at all anymore.
Still, I have to turn and look at her. And God, she’s such a sight. She’s in loose black joggers and a forest green knit sweater that brings out the green of her eyes. Her long, thick brown hair cascades over her shoulders, reflecting the overhead lights.
That sweater of hers hangs low enough that I get a peek at one of her collarbones, and I picture myself kissing her there, the way she likes it; how I’d savour her soft gasps, the involuntary shift of her hips, the taste of that silky skin…
Cool it, Karan.
Though the thick snow suit I’m wearing can probably hide any evidence of my daydreaming, I’m not going to take any chances.
“Are you two going back outside?” Rachel asks, making her way to us.
She kneels to my right, her eyes locked on our son, and gives him a kiss on the one part of his cheek that isn’t covered by his neck warmer.
“Seems like you guys were having fun out there.”
“Yes, I just needed to pee!” Cayce exclaims. “Are you going to come play with us, Mommy?”
I look at Rachel, trying to read her expression, but she doesn’t look away from Cayce.
“Absolutely, I will,” she says with a grin, right before booping Cayce’s nose. “Go back outside with Daddy and I’ll come join you guys.”
“You don’t have to,” I say as Rachel straightens back up, the smile on her face vanishing as soon as we lock eyes. “You can rest if you want. I’ve got it.”
“No, I want to.” She gives me a small smile. “I’ll be out in ten.”
As she walks away, I can’t help but wonder the reason behind her joining us in this way. Is it to spend time with me, or only to play with the boys?
Or maybe a little of both?
The snowmobile was abadidea.
It’ll be fun, I thought.We’ll make awesome family memories, I convinced myself, even once I realized the particular model my aunt owns is much smaller than what I initially believed.
The boys?
They positively freaked out.
