“It most certainly is not!” Victoria is out of her seat before she knows it, pointing a finger at Matt. “I know what day we got married, mister, and today is not it!”
It's the middle of summer. Victoria has only just started working on the fall line. They got married in the spring—sleeveless dresses, tanks, and rain slickers that need to be made more fashionable, not jeans and three-quarter length sleeved shirts.
Matt stands up, too, waving his hands to try to calm down his errant wife. “No, no! That's not the anniversary I'm talking about. I mean the day we met.”
“The day we met?”
“Yes! When you first walked into that bar.” Matt takes Victoria by the hand. “Like I said, it's okay you didn't remember. It's nothing official. That’s why I just dug out the wine and not anything else.”
Suddenly, Victoria feels heady. She drops down into her seat, and Matt drops down into his. The room blurs but just for a moment.
The day they met. Victoria knows, now, why she has not been able to quit thinking about her mother. Even now, she can remember that fight. Bits and pieces of their argument flood her mind.
“Now is the perfect time! With the flight delayed, we have no place to be. Victoria, you need to listen to me. This is important. It's not just your future, Victoria. It's about the future of Vertsea as a whole! This isn't something to play with, it's not just a game!”
“You need me to understand? Listen to yourself, mother! I'm not going to marry Gaspard!”
“He's a good man!”
“I wouldn't know! I've never met him before!”
“You shall not speak to me like that. Is that understood? Whatever thought you have in your mind, get rid of it. I married your father for the good of our people, and you're going to do the same. It isn't fun, Victoria, but it's our duty.”
“You need to get your head on straight, Victoria. When we return home, you will accept Gaspard's proposal.”
That, of course, had fallen through. Gaspard had become Harold. That, too, had been a plan she didn't make. Victoria presses a hand to her temple, feeling slightly woozy.
Matt, worried, asks, “Are you okay?”
Victoria nods. Then she demands, “Do you think I'm a good mother?”
For a moment, her husband looks awestruck by the question. But then it must click into place with him because he nods. “I think you're an amazing mother. Just as good as my own!”
Victoria nods. “And do you remember what happened that night?”
“How could I forget?”
“Do you remember?” insists Victoria, suddenly feeling desperate for confirmation. Suddenly, her current life seems far too much like a dream.
“I remember,” promises Matt.
Victoria does, too. With startling clarity, she remembers their first time together.
“Okay,” says Victoria, taking in a deep breath. “Then I want to ask you something.”
Matt takes hold of both of Victoria's hands. In his most serious voice, he says, “You can ask me anything. Tell me what's wrong, Tori. You know I'll listen, and you know I'll do everything that I can to help you.”
“I know,” says Victoria. “Do you remember the notes my mother left me?”
Matt's expression grows grim. He nods. “I remember them. They were loads of shit. We went over that, right?”
“They were,” says Victoria. “But I've thought about them a lot today. And I want to ask you something because of them.”
“You're a wonderful mother,” insists Matt. “You're nothing like her, if that's what you were going to ask me—”
“It's not, but I appreciate the sentiment. I have a more important question to ask you.” Victoria pauses. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her beating heart and organize her thoughts.
“Ask me anything.”
“Don't freak out. If you aren't interested, tell me.”
“I will.”
Victoria, nervous, insists, “Promise me!”
“I promise you,” swears Matt. “But you have to ask me now, Tori. I'm starting to get worried! It's not about going back to Vertsea, is it? Because I'd go with you, but I don't think it's a good idea.”
It's Victoria's turn to be startled now. “Why would it be about going back to Vertsea?”
“Because you said you were thinking about your parents,” says Matt. “Fuck, I don't even know what we're talking about!”
“I want to have another kid,” blurts Victoria. The silence that follows that statement is almost deafening. Victoria turns away from Matt, pops open the wine, and pours herself a glass. She takes a large swig of the bitter liquid before saying, “I want to have another kid. That little girl I used to talk about having. Matt, I want to try to have a daughter!”
Matt sputters. “But your work—”
“Can be passed on to someone else when I take maternity leave,” says Victoria, sounding far more comfortable with this conversation than she really is. “If you're interested, that is.”
Again, there's a moment of silence. Matt pours himself a glass of wine, too. Then he turns to Victoria and holds his glass out.
She clinks her glass against Matt's glass without thinking. “What are you toasting?”
“A baby girl,” says Matt. “To the baby girl we're hopefully going to have! But I've got to ask, Tori, what if we just have another son?”
“Then we'll love him,” answers Victoria. She gives her husband a coy smile. “And we'll try again. Are you really opposed to fucking around without a condom?”
Matt laughs. The sound is low and deep. He downs his entire flute of wine in one go. “Fuck no. So, time table—”
“Don't be a jerk,” snorts Victoria. “Once George starts preschool, that’s when I want to try for it. As soon as he’s out of the house a bit more.”
“Good choice,” says Matt. “Unfortunately.”
“Unfortunately?”
“I’m already looking forward to having more little feet running around the house,” says Matt. His eyes sparkle with mischief. “And I’m excited to get some alone time with you. It’s been far too long on that front.”
“Agreed,” says Victoria. She takes another sip from her wine, and then sits it down on the table. “But you know, I did just read George a bedtime story.”
Matt's lips twist up in amusement.
Victoria smiles back at him. “He's not going to be awake any time soon. If we're quiet...”
She trails off, but there's no real need to finish that sentence. Matt is laughing when he stands up, offering a hand to his wife. “To the bedroom, then?”
Victoria takes his hand and then tugs on his arm. “Or,” she says, her own eyes glinting, “we could just give it a shot right here. Who knows? Maybe the kitchen will be lucky.”
THE END
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