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“Mom? Mom?” Paige’s small voice called quietly but with a frantic edge to it from the other side of the bedroom door, her small head peaking into the quiet room. It was well past one o’clock in the morning, but a fierce head-cold, the long absence of her father and her childhood fears of the dark had made it impossible for six-year old Paige to sleep soundly the last several nights. Growing frustrated beyond her coping abilities on this particular evening she had wandered down the hall and, somewhat reluctantly, cracked open the door to her mother’s darkened bedroom.
Elizabeth made no movement, showed no signs of recognizing the presence of another person entering her room. With soft feet Paige padded over toward the side of the bed, staring at her mom as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Elizabeth had one arm tucked under her head, the other sticking out slightly over the edge of the bed. Paige put a small hand on the arm closest to her and gave it a small shake.
“Mom?”
Elizabeth lifted her head from the pillow, blinking quickly to banish the blur from her eyes.
“Wha— Paige?” Her voice was groggy, and tinged with genuine concern, causing Paige to step backward a bit at her intensity. Realizing that she had scared the poor thing Elizabeth reached out a gentle hand and caressed Paige’s arm, hoping her irritation and exhaustion were not showing too clearly. “What’s wrong?”
“I had a bad dream,” was Paige’s sad but honest reply.
Elizabeth exhaled, sinking back toward the pillows and closing her eyes. Nightmares again.
“Can I sleep with you?” Paige asked meekly, knowing that permission to share a bed with her parents had been refused years ago with the strict instruction from her mother that she was “old enough to sleep in her own bed” while her dad looked on behind Elizabeth with softer, more understanding eyes. Still, Elizabeth held her ground and Paige held to her bed, never knowing that the reason for this hardline against co-sleeping was to quell the questions that would most certainly arise if either of the children caught on to the frequent absences of one of their parents on any given night.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Elizabeth relented, her tone dripping with grace as she sensed the honest fear in the voice of her eldest child. Surprised and giddy Paige waited for her mother to lift the bedcovers before joining her on the firm mattress. Paige was relieved to not have been rejected and scolded back to her own room, as she climbed into bed and snuggled up against her mother, her head coming to rest just at the top of Elizabeth’s chest. Too tired to protest Elizabeth wrapped a protective arm around Paige, pulling her in closely and kissing the top of her head.
Since Henry was born it was rare for the two of them to have moments like this. Philip had insisted that the two girls go on frequent “dates” to maintain their mother-daughter bond, but work and the responsibilities at home had caused these trips for ice cream or to the park to be much less frequent as of late. Elizabeth often thought fondly of the expression on Paige’s face as she took her first steps, her shaking legs making their way toward her mother as Elizabeth cheered her on in the living room, shouting excitedly for Philip to run from the kitchen to see their daughter walk for the first time. She missed the days of toddler Paige joyfully waddling toward the ducks at the park and, voice brimming with glee, calling over her shoulder, “Mama! Ducks!” She loved her daughter, though she sometimes struggled to show it, and with Paige pressed so close to her now her heart grew full. Grateful for a private moment with her Elizabeth ran her fingers through Paige’s hair, causing it to fan out behind her in long wisps.
“Was it the dream about being chased?” Elizabeth yawned as Paige’s small body finally stopped wriggling into place.
Paige hesitated, knowing her mother would most likely be quick to remind her that dreams “aren’t real” and that she needed to “not be so fearful,” admonitions she had heard on similarly scary nights before. She knew her mother loved her, she had heard her whisper it to her countless times when she thought Paige was asleep, but still she was fearful of her. Other girls’ moms were not quite so intimidating, so serious. Her father was all games and giggles, but mom was a different story. While it was mom she cried out for at night and who she ran to with skinned knees, it was dad who was usually the more sympathetic one to her fears and insecurities. Dad coddled and caressed, mom was always quick to encourage Paige to still her tears and raise her chin. But, then again, her mom never let her spend the night in her parents’ bed, so perhaps something had changed and it was safe to share her fears on this one night without being shut down.
“Uh-huh. There was a scary man chasing me. He was too fast and my legs were heavy,” she confessed, gripping Elizabeth’s nightgown a little tighter as she spoke, reminiscent of the way she would cling to her while being fed a bottle as a baby.
Elizabeth placed a gentle hand on Paige’s head, the familiarity in Paige’s grip not lost on her, and stroked her hair. She spoke through a yawn, “That does sound scary. But don’t worry, Paige, no one is going to get you. Your father and I will protect you. I promise.”
Paige smiled and snuggled closer to her mom, her small frame fitting perfectly against Elizabeth’s slender one, and she breathed in comfort through the soft sent of her mother.
“Mom?”
“Hmm?” Elizabeth braced herself, immediately regretting her choice of words and knowing exactly where they would lead the conversation now.
“When is daddy coming home?”
There it was. This question had been asked at least a dozen times a day since Philip left five days ago. The Centre had called him out on an operation well outside of town and, in true fashion, with very little notice to prepare. With Henry just barely two the family could not sacrifice both Philip and Elizabeth serving on this particular operation together and so, reluctantly, Philip packed his bags alone.
“You sure you will be okay if I’m gone for a few days?”
The grace in his tone was received as condescension and Elizabeth exhaled heavily. The truth was she was tired. Paige was as strong-willed as Elizabeth herself, a fact that was at first a point of pride and was now a growing concern for both parents. Henry was overly sensative, his father in every way, and clung to her desperately at all times. It was a blessing if she was able to use the bathroom alone without him crying out for her, and he often refused to walk, screaming if she set him down and forcing her to pick him back up and lug him around on her hip for hours at a time. Henry was so unlike Paige, who was a difficult baby but a fairly easy toddler. Her son, however, was the most calm of infants but now made Paige’s foray in the Terrible Twos phase seem like a breeze. As a result Elizabeth had little time to herself, little time away from the children and, in all honesty, was becoming worried at exactly how little this was truly bothering her.
Motherhood started off rough for Elizabeth, never having come naturally to her. But as the years went on, as the routine became more settled and as her love for her children grew there also grew a very small part of her that was content with being at home more. Feeling immense guilt for this she refused to foster this contentment, and reminded herself daily that she was here for a job, not for motherhood. Her private reprimands had, as of late, turned more into self-abuse and eventually spilled over to manifest themselves in other ways, most noticeably her temper and irritation with the other members of her household. She warred within herself over her desire for her children and her desire to be a good soldier, and the latter always won out.
“Yes. I’ll be fine. I can handle my children, Philip.” She responded curtly, the accusatory tone of her voice more than intended.
He froze, his hands clutching a pair of jeans that now hung suspended over his half-packed luggage. He ground his teeth together, her attitude having worn down his patience over the last several weeks.
“I know you can, Elizabeth, I just meant —”
It infuriated her when he used her name in that tone and her frustration boiled over quickly.
“What? You meant what? Can I stand being alone with my own kids? Can I do this without you? Can I survive motherhood?” She knew the last one was her own insecurity speaking, but the words had come out too quickly for her to stop and she hoped he hadn’t caught them.
He tossed the jeans down and crossed over to where she was standing, arms folded and her shoulder heavy against the doorjamb of their bathroom.
“What is your problem, huh?” His voice was a harsh whisper, careful not to alert the kids to yet another fight between their parents, as they seemed to pop up too frequently as of late. “You have been short with me all week long, you snapped at Paige at dinner over some peas and you are acting as if my obeying orders is now a personal affront to you.”
“Oh, I’m the one with the problem?” Elizabeth’s arms came unfolded, her back straightening and her voice was low but shook with anger. “You deliberately undermine me with Paige at every turn. She was being ridiculous and picky, Philip, and I will not have a child who refuses to eat what is put before her. She can’t whine and get her way all the time and you indulge her too much. You don’t think Henry picks up on that? He watches how you are with Paige and he’s going to behave the same way she does. All it takes is —”
“I’m trying not to bully her, Elizabeth. She is allowed to have preferences and not have yours or mine shoved down her throat.”
She moved a step closer to him. “You think I bully my daughter?” Her words were clipped short and pointed, the second part of his argument completely unheard by her now erratic mind as she grappled with the insult.
“She’s my daughter too,” his tone shifted the slightest degree toward apologetic.
“Exactly.” There was venom in her words and she flung them at Philip with little care for how harshly they landed. “And I refuse for her to grow up weak.”
Philip stared back, his own anger now beginning to cloud his judgement. He knew she found him weak, lacking, undedicated. But to hear it put into words now was crushing, igniting something in him that had been long-dormant. To be called “weak” stung viciously, the sting made especially more harsh coming from the one person in the world who was supposed to understand him, his sacrifice and his strength better than anyone. He clenched his jaw, anger and frustration with his perceptions of Elizabeth’s own shortcomings rushing to the front of his mind and, in rare form, he prepared himself to spit back with equal venom.
“And I refuse for her to grow up a bitch.”
Her hand connected with his cheek before she had time to register what was happening, the smack that echoed in the silent room her first confirmation that she had actually hit him as her mind grappled with the reality of her actions. She had struck him with all the force she possessed, her hand now throbbing and Philip’s face having been coarsely thrown to the side as a result, a red mark instantly creeping up against his skin. His head snapped back in her direction, fury in his eyes, and he instinctively took a step toward her, fists forming at his sides. Momentarily stunned and terrified by an expression she had never seen him wear before, Elizabeth stepped back, genuine fear that he would hit her in return coursing through her veins. She had never struck him before and now she cursed her instincts for acting without truly thinking it through. She kept her hands at her side, hoping that was a signal she was not actually looking for a fight, but her feet were instinctively spread wide in case she did have to react quickly. He stood over her, his physical presence suddenly much more large and imposing than she had ever noticed, and she straightened her back again in an attempt to rise to his challenge, silently hoping he would not offer one. Philip breathed heavily, his balled hands shaking slightly, and he unclenched them once before exhaling, jutting out his jaw and turning away from her.
He grabbed his bag, opting to leave behind the jeans and toiletries he had yet to pack, said goodbye to the children in their rooms down the hall and walked out the door to the garage. Elizabeth blinked back tears and let her shoulders drop at the sound of the garage door opening.
“He’ll be back in a few more days, sweetheart. Remember, I told you that he had to fly very far away. But he’ll be home soon.” In truth she had no idea where he was, and something in her heart gave a slight tug at the thought of him returning home, the anticipation stemming from excitement or fear she did not know.
“But when is soon?” Paige tried against hope.
“I don’t know, Paige. Soon.” Elizabeth had reached her limit, the memories of her last interactions with Philip coming up harsh and hurtful. He had never called her such a hurtful name before and it cut her deeply, a fact that bothered her more than being called a bitch. She recognized her own words were, while perhaps true, unfair to him and ultimately she had acted unjustly for weeks in taking out her own personal issues on him. Philip was patient with her, beyond patient at times, and it was not his fault that she struggled against the maternal pull to put her children before anything. Had she trusted him more she would have considered sharing these truths with him, but she could not bring herself to be that humble or open before him. She sighed, knowing that these words, and apologies, that had bounced around in her head nonstop since Philip left would eventually need to be said out loud to him, and anxiety filled her chest at the thought. She pulled her daughter in closer against her body and began stroking her hair again. “Try to sleep now, it’s late,” she said as encouragement to herself more so than her daughter.
Paige sighed, frustrated at having received no real answer about the impending return date of her father, but comforted by the soft hands of her mother. She closed her eyes and allowed the worries of a six-year old melt away in Elizabeth’s embrace.
Not five minutes went by before Henry began wailing down the hall.
“Mama!” His tiny voice shouted from the crib. “Mama!”
Elizabeth slowly inhaled patience and exhaled out frustration. Five going on six days alone with the kids had been a bit much for her, seeing as it was the first time Philip had been away for this long since Henry had been born. She was ready for him to come home, ready to have someone help her shoulder the responsibility of two young lives and, more than anything, ready for the comforting sound of his voice as he groggily spoke out in the dark, “I’ll go” when one of the children started crying after a long day of Elizabeth running the show solo.
“Mama!” Henry’s calls became more desperate.
“I have to get your brother. Keep the bed warm for me,” Elizabeth whispered into the top of Paige’s head. Knowing her daughter well she was confident offering her a slice of responsibility would cause Paige to rise to the challenge and not allow her fear of the dark to win out. Pushing away from the bed she stumbled her way down the hall and began gently shushing her son long before she opened the door to his room. Henry, just barely two, was standing in his crib, long ago having outgrown it but unable to sleep in a bed as Elizabeth had refused to purchase one yet. Whether this was out of a frugal sense or denial that her son was old enough for a bed Philip did not know, but he complied graciously. She tripped slightly over a stuffed animal that had been discarded on the floor and cursed under her breath, Henry’s cries for her still filling the room.
“Hey, sweet boy. Hey. Shh, that’s enough now,” she cooed as she lifted him from the crib. She bounced Henry on her hip for a moment, holding him close and being tired enough to almost instantly lose herself in the smell of his baby shampoo that wafted from his hair. Henry clung closely to her, pulling gently at her tumbled hair and, holding his head heavily against her chest, his cries coming to an immediate stop in her embrace. She quickly felt his forehead for a hint of Paige’s fever which had broken the day before - none - and checked his diaper - clean - before realizing there was nothing wrong; he just wanted her. Her heart swelled at the realization that he needed nothing other than her, his mother. She smiled and, seeing no point in delaying the inevitable, turned and walked back toward her bedroom.
“Well, Paige,” she whispered as she reentered the room, “It looks like we are having a slumber party.” Elizabeth yawned as she climbed back into bed, Henry now tucked closely on the opposite side of her from Paige. Laying on her back she allowed both children to burrow under her arms, her hands coming to rest on their backs as she tilted her head once again toward the top of Paige’s. She drew slow circles with her fingers against their clothed backs, hoping the repetitive motion would lull them back into slumber quickly. Yawning for the third time Elizabeth stared up at the ceiling, taking just a small moment to revel in how good it felt to have both of her children wedged up against her in total contentment. A lump in her throat formed at the thought of the two laying next to her, how she would do anything for them, would give up life itself for their safety, and marveled at how what was once an addition to their cover had now become the two things for which she would die to protect. With silent fear she hoped the day would never come where she would be forced to chose country over children, as she honestly was unsure which way she would lean.
Pushing the hideous thought from her mind she allowed herself, once again, to drift off to sleep.
She had know way of knowing how long it was before Philip entered the room, or how long he had been standing there when she finally sensed his presence and opened her eyes. His luggage was set down at the foot of the bed, his hands casually hung in the pockets of his jacket. The expression on his face was utterly soft and affectionate, far from the look he had given her when he had walked out the door days earlier. Elizabeth, clearly caught off guard, looked panicked and surprised.
“You’re home,” she stated quietly, uncertain of what was expected of her in this particular interaction.
He let his eyes fall closed for the briefest of moments, stress draining from his expression, and nodded twice.
Elizabeth searched for words, but had nothing to offer, and disappointment filled her when she realized he was not going to carry the conversation for her. She looked away, uncomfortable at the imaginary tension in the room, then down at both children to confirm they were still sound asleep, then back to their father.
She began to explain their current positioning, “Paige had another nightmare. She’s been sick and not sleeping well and then Henry started crying so I -” but was cut short when Philip crossed the distance between them, leaned over Henry and kissed his partner gently on her forehead. With his eyes closed and forehead pressed against hers he whispered through a heavy exhale, “I’m sorry.”
Elizabeth felt her chest constrict at the gentleness of his touch and more so at his words. She shifted a bit as he raised his head and held his face just inches above hers. Careful not to disturb the children too much at her movement she met his eyes. “Me too,” she spoke softly, hoping it was enough to undo the damage that had tore through them over the last several weeks of bickering and poor attitudes, both birthed from the frustration of trying to figure out how to be loyal to their jobs and loyal to their growing children at the same time.
Philip smiled. It was enough.
“How were they?” Philip asked, straightening again after running a hand over Henry’s hair.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “They were them. Paige has had a cold, so she’s been especially difficult the past two days. And Henry was…clingy.”
Philip began to undress, taking a seat on the chair across from their bed to remove his shoes and socks. “That dent in your hip getting deeper?” He pulled his favorite joke out from his arsenal, always breaking into a slight smirk when he would see her carrying around their giant two-year old on her small hip.
Elizabeth laughed quietly, grateful for the familiarity of his humor having returned to the home. “I’m going to need hip surgery by the time I’m forty thanks to him.” She stroked Henry’s head lovingly, silently thinking that he was more than worth it and sadly acknowledging that the days of him clinging to her would soon come to an end.
Stripped to his underwear Philip gently pulled back the covers and bent to scoop Henry up from the bed.
“Oh, he’s fine here -” Elizabeth began to protest the sudden absence of her son before Philip made a shhh sound and nodded knowingly.
“I’m just going to move him to the other side of the bed,” he explained quietly, lifting the small boy into his arms and bouncing slightly in place when Henry began to stir at being jostled. He walked around to the opposite side of the bed and laid him down next to Paige, who had now rolled away from her mother and was sprawled out near the edge. Elizabeth slid a loving arm around their daughter and scooted her closer toward the center, making room for Henry to join the girls. Henry sighed, his legs twitching twice, a trait he inherited from his mother, before he settled into place and began breathing softly once again.
Elizabeth cautiously eyed her children on the other side of the bed, hesitated and then whispered, “You aren’t worried he’ll roll off?”
Philip walked back around the bed and offered reassuringly, “Nah, he’ll be fine.” It was rare of them to switch roles with Elizabeth being the overly concerned one, and it spread a warmth throughout his chest whenever she pulled back the curtain just enough for him to see the soft motherly side of her.
Philip slid under the covers, exhaling peacefully as his body relaxed against the mattress. Elizabeth smoothed out Paige’s hair once more before turning to face Philip in the dark. He sat up slightly, looking over her shoulder at the two children sleeping peacefully behind her and then met her eyes, affection and appreciation on full display for her to see. His children, snuggled up against the mother of his children, all tucked safely into the same bed was the exact salve his soul needed. Philip reached up a soft hand and caressed the side of Elizabeth’s face, countless words of adoration dancing on his tongue that he fought to keep in check. She held his gaze, eternally grateful that he was home and that he did not require an hour-long heart-to-heart to work through the hurt they had last left with each other. Infuriating and disappointing as he could be at times she was grateful to be genuinely known by him in this way and she closed her eyes against his touch.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she barely whispered, not daring to look him in the eyes again.
Philip smiled, his thumb making a lazy pass against her cheek as he held her face for a moment longer. His hand ran down her shoulder, grazed its way across her arm and settled protectively on the hip he knew had carried his son all day before he inched his way closer against her, allowing his eyes to close and sleep to finally win him over.
He had just reached the pleasant stage of fully drifting off when he felt the bed stir. Elizabeth opened her eyes, met his, and they both held their breath for a moment. But they knew it was too late. Elizabeth smiled as he sighed just as Paige’s bright face popped up over Elizabeth shoulder, her excited voice calling out, “Daddy!”