Sweet Jesus by Christine Pountney Read Free Book Online Page A

Mona’s husband and appealing to him for sympathy. You know what it’s like.
    We should all get honorary degrees in parenting, he said, in addition to the ones in our specialized fields.
    But instead what you’ve got is a small-town superiority complex, Hannah thought, concentrating on the act of slipping her fork underneath a shiny mottled spinach leaf. If this party were bundled under furs, galloping across the Russian steppes in a horse-drawn sled, Hannah knew she’d be the first one thrown to the wolves. And this certainty made her dwell on all the things that set her apart, until she alighted on her own childlessness.
    Everyone at the table was married with kids, except for her and Norm, and Hannah wanted so badly to be a mother – the constant, gentle, protective presence in a child’s life. They all had a reason to rush importantly away from the dinner party at a single phone call, and Hannah yearned to be that crucial to someone, to have the clarity of being indispensable, of having that one responsibility above all others, to have that sweet, hard relationship with a child, all those tender, casual caresses, navigating the small urgent dramas of childhood, to have her own chosen family. And she’d be good at it, felt there was a talentthere, untapped. She’d be tolerant and fun, make time and take an interest, be patient and adventurous, with an easy, generous affection. She would adore without smothering. Ask very little in return. She was already preparing for the inevitable separation. Taking the high road. Sending her child off to college. Hope is so reckless, it can actually catapult you ahead of the incident you are wishing for so you can practise feeling nostalgic about it.
    Hannah looked at Norm. He was leaning close to Florence’s face with an expression of rapt interest. Hannah couldn’t feel jealous. It didn’t mean anything. That was his way. It’s what people loved about him – the intense quality of his attention. And she loved it too. How could you not? In fact, Hannah was enjoying this new, unaccustomed feeling of possessiveness. She’d been married, but she’d had an allergic reaction to the semantics of it, the smug confidence of the vows. She’d never known how much she prized a mystery, but now she appreciated a little uncertainty with her love, maybe even the painful thrill of being ignored.
    Norm rose off his chair to lean forward and stab the last potato in the bowl. He looked across at Hannah, but his gaze didn’t linger. His face didn’t soften, nor did he give her a conspiratorial wink with the private knowledge of what they’d got up to earlier that evening in the shower. It made her feel lonely. When they first met, Hannah had been frightened by the intensity with which her heart clamped onto him. After a month, she told him she couldn’t do it anymore – couldn’t keep making love if it wasn’t exclusive. That was her ultimatum and Norm was enjoying his freedom. He was attractive and popular. Women all over Toronto wanted to sleep with him. Some men bloom later in life after going quietly unnoticed through their youth. He had said, I don’t think I’ve ever misledyou into thinking this was something exclusive. Besides, Norm had told her he wasn’t sure if he could trust her. She’d told him about the naked parties in London, and that was a wildness he was suspicious of. She had an adventurous sexuality and a past unlike his own – messy and decadent. And so they had said goodbye. And yet, four days later, he showed up at her apartment. I missed you, he said. I didn’t know how much I would.
    So what are you saying?
    I’m saying let’s be an item, he said, and Hannah fell into a swoon that lasted for months. Even her sister began to hear a change in her. A contentment that was uncharacteristic. I finally understand the whole point of compatibility, she’d told Connie over the phone. When you’re unhappy, your life is an open book. But for the first time