A Housewife Sits Down to Dinner

It was a miracle. Baby J was sitting quietly in his high chair, contentedly playing with the pile of peas and carrots in front of him. He cooed and laughed as his pudgy hands brought each vegetable individually to his mouth and for a split second Madeline thought to herself, This is the motherhood everyone goes on about. I’ve been doing it all wrong.

And then as if sensing her guard coming down, Baby J’s adorable smile turned into a scowl as he started wailing and throwing the peas all over the recently mopped dining room floor.

Madeline put down her fork and knife and reached over to hand him his bottle. He resisted at first but once the rubber nipple hit his mouth, his entire face softened and he relaxed into his seat.

Her husband, Jonathan Sr., continued to make his plate, unaware or unbothered by the small display of infant defiance that had just occurred.

“I wasn’t going to tell you this,” Jonathan said as he struggled to cut into his steak. Oh no, Madeline thought, I knew I should have let it cook a little longer. These things would come easier to her over time.

Madeline finished scooping some salad onto her own plate before putting down the tongs and waiting for him to continue.

“Oh, tell me what?” she asked, trying to keep her tone as casual as possible.

“Jim Gordon, remember him from the Elks event?”

Of course Madeline remembered Jim from the Elks event. It was hard not to remember Jim from the Elks event. Not only did he physically stand out – he had brood shoulders and was at least 6 '5–attractive in an unconventional way–but he had a boisterous laugh and a wife that looked like she walked out of the pages of McCall’s magazine. She was poised, petite, and everything Madaline was not.

“Yes, his wife is Anita, right?”

“Yes! Anita! I always want to say Annette! Ah darling, you’ve always been such a wiz with names. I was hoping you two would hit it off.”

Madeline wouldn’t necessarily say she and Anita had hit it off, in fact, she doubted Anita had any idea who she was at all other than the awkward underdressed housewife asking for a nickel for the sanitary pad machine in the women’s restroom.

Madeline hadn’t had her period in so long that she had forgotten to put one in her clutch and was mortified when she saw the dark red drops in the toilet water.

As mortifying as it was to ask strangers for help, she was secretly relieved to know she wasn’t pregnant again. Irish twins, could you imagine?

She had been so tired lately that the thought of intimacy almost put her to sleep, but Jonathan never seemed out of energy. At night, after hours of rocking Baby J and trying to force him to take her nipple or a bottle and feeling like a failure every time, she would slink into bed only to be met with Jonathan and his not-so-subtle desire for attention.

She would take a deep breath and turn to him, with a smile on her face, and try to distract him by asking about his day at the office. Any news on Scottie and the secretary? What about Peter Maddox and his child with the lingering cough?

Jonathan would humor her with stories for a few minutes before he would snake his arms around her waist and pull her to him, kissing her neck and nuzzling his nose into her hair.

"Well, Jim has some business proposals he thinks we'd be interested in investing in," he says. "I wanted to take a look before I got your hopes up."

Madeline's heart sunk into her stomach. This was not the first time she'd heard him say someone somewhere had an investment that would change their lives.

“I invited them over for dinner on Friday,” he said and took a big bite of the raw meat. “Jim and I went to high school together…played on the water polo team together. Thought it would be nice to reconnect over casual drinks and a meal and really pick his brain on his business plan.

Madeline paused mid-bite. Casual drinks and a meal? Friday was only two days away. Had Jonathan lost his mind?

The house was a mess, the baby was a mess, she was a mess.

What would she cook? How would she cook? She would have to ask her mother-in-law for help. She hated asking her mother-in-law for help. Would her in-laws want to join them? That would make the menu all the more complicated.

This was not a casual meal. This was a matter of life and death when it came to their social standing. What if Anita and Jim got food poisoning and word got around that Madeline was such an awful wife and cook that she practically murdered her guests during dinner? She would be laughed out of town.

But just like she did every night when Jonathan’s hands would find her soft stomach and squeeze her tight, she dug down into her happy place, plastered on a smile and took a bite of iceberg lettuce.

“That sounds lovely dear. I can’t wait to get to know them better.”

And before she could register what she was doing, she grabbed the carafe of red wine in the middle of the table and poured herself a glass.

“Are you sure you can have wine with Baby J still breastfeeding?” Jonathan asked.

Since when did he start paying attention to womanly duties like the care and feeding of their child?

“Looks like it’s a formula type of night,” she replied and took a sip as a single giant tear started trailing down her cheek. It was always a formula kind of night. Baby J would not take to her no matter what she did. How did Jonathon not realize the pain it caused her, both mentally and physically, that she could not give her child something that was supposed to come so naturally.

“Sounds good love,” Jonathan said and poured himself a glass. “You’re the best!”

He got up, kissed the top of her head like she was a small child and walked out of the room, leaving her alone to tidy up, clean the dishes, and get Baby J ready for bed. She took another gulp of wine before standing up.

It was only when she heard him close the door to his den that she allowed the tears to fall freely.