Domestic Bliss

I wait. It feels like my life no longer belongs to me. I wait for Aristotle to go to sleep. I cook dinner. I wait for Frank to come home. We eat. Frank talks about what some kid said in his class today. I listen. For Aristotle to wake up. I smile at Frank and pretend that I am relaxed. That I am interested. That I am in one piece and not imploding. Will Aristotle have another rash? Frank helps to clear the table and then retreats to the living room to read the newspaper. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and listen. I carry the speaker for Aristotle’s monitor around with me into every room. I don’t trust it. Sometimes I can’t hear Aristotle breathing and I rush to his room to check on him. Sometimes he is sitting there looking up at the mobiles hanging from the ceiling. What does he make of them? Frank yells up the stairs to tell me that there is someone on the phone. Aristotle looks at me, smiles. When I turn to leave, he breaks out sobbing. I carry Aristotle downstairs and dump him in Frank’s lap while I talk on the phone. Aristotle needs to be changed. Frank looks pissed. It is my mother on the phone. She was watching the news and they were talking about a new flu that is running through the daycares. I tell her that Aristotle is not in daycare. She sounds relieved. Has Aristotle had a flu shot? He’s too young. Am I sure? No. I’m not sure of anything. Mother wants to see Aristotle tomorrow. A break. My spirits rise. She’s coming over tomorrow for tea. My spirits sink. Off the phone, Frank hands Aristotle back to me. He still needs to be changed. Frank has no time. He’s working on a lesson plan. Aristotle starts crying. I change him. His bum is as red as the Maple Leaf on the flag. I put talcum powder on his bum. Aristotle smiles. Time to sit down in front of the television while Aristotle plays in his pen. I fall asleep for a minute during a sitcom. Aristotle screams. He has thrown something out of his pen and can’t reach it. Frank is going out the door. He’s meeting a client from the travel agency. Aristotle needs to eat. Heat up a bottle. Aristotle finishes dinner and needs to be changed again. I give him his bottle. He falls asleep. As I put him down, he wakes up again. I rock him. He gurgles and laughs and falls asleep. I put him down and climb into bed. Catch up on my reading. I open a book and fall asleep. I wake to find Frank nestling up to me in the bed. I can smell the beer. He wants sex. I wait.
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DOMESTIC BLISS
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