your mum for a week or two anyway,” he pointed out, as I was expecting him to, “and they’re really looking forward to it. All we’d be doing is extending their stay slightly. You know your mother would be thrilled about that.”
“But it’s such a long way if anything happens.”
Hayden didn’t respond, and I tried to push my point home. “I know you want to go, and honestly I thought it sounded really interesting, but it’s so far, and it’s such short notice. Even if I could take that much time off from work, I don’t know that I’d want to. Certainly not to do even possibly harder and unpaid work somewhere else.”
Even though his tone was barely above a whisper, Hayden said something that made my head whip around to look at him. “And what about what I want, Penny?”
I stared at him, suddenly fearful. “What…what do you mean?”
Sighing, he took my hand between his much larger ones. “Not for one second have I ever regretted leaving Theological College for you. Regardless of what my father thinks, I wouldn’t change our life for anything. But nevertheless, I’ve made some pretty big sacrifices so you could pursue your career, and yes, there are times when I think, even if full-time ministry isn’t for me, I would definitely like to be more involved in some sort of ministry. My faith isn’t just something I do on a Sunday.”
“Neither is mine!” I exclaimed, stunned he might be insinuating it was.
He shook his head quickly, his forehead creasing. “I didn’t mean that it was, Penny, honestly. I just meant, well, you seem to have found your calling, whereas I still feel I’ve yet to find mine. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my work and I’m good at it, but it doesn’t feed my soul. I suppose I’ve always been happy to wait and explore my needs further when the kids are older, but is three weeks really so impossible?”
I bristled, even though his words were completely reasonable. All I could think about was the admission that he ‘hadn’t found his calling.’ He would never say it, but he hadn’t found it because of me. He’d always seemed happy. I’d never realised he was simply holding off his plans for the future. I didn’t know why, but hearing him communicate his feelings so clearly scared me. Without thinking, I snapped, “You go then. It’s only three weeks.”
He blinked and then stared at me. Other than work, we were rarely apart. We were best friends as well as husband and wife. “You really want me to go without you?” He sounded hurt. “I don’t want that, Pen. Look, forget I mentioned it. I'm not going to make you do something you don’t want to do.” He drained his glass, got up, and walked back into the house without saying another word.
As he walked away, tears stung my eyes. I sat there for a long time until the sun had fully set and the sky was turning inky. The air had grown cool when I finally went inside. Hayden was already under the covers with the lights out when I entered our bedroom, although by the rhythm of his breathing, I was sure he wasn’t asleep.
I tossed and turned all night, and neither of us spoke a word.
Penny
Hayden and I barely spoke the next morning either, although with the kids chattering away, it was easy enough to pretend nothing was wrong. I kissed him as usual before I left for work, and he gave me the usual ‘good luck, babe’, knowing I was in court that day. Everything was perfectly normal, except that it wasn’t. On the way to work, I couldn’t stop thinking about the night before and replaying Hayden’s words in my mind. ‘What about what I want?’
He was right and I knew it. I was being unfair. Selfish, even. Each day as I drove to work, Hayden got the kids ready before dropping them to school, then he’d go to work and finish in time to pick them up again, and most nights, unless I’d put something in the pot that morning, he often cooked dinner as well. It was another thing I knew his father didn’t approve of—the reversal of traditional roles. Even my mother thought it a bit odd. “I’ll never understand your generation,” she often said, sighing, as though I was still a semi-rebellious teenager.
But Hayden had always seemed happy. We’d agreed it was best to do what was