17 – RITUALS
Before Brad was born, Tim and Jill would go out every Friday night. It sort of became a habit.
They'd try to go somewhere new, somewhere fresh and exciting, to foreign restaurants, to concerts, to galleries. They were young and beautiful, and life was good and so full of wonder and…and then Brad was born.
It wasn't that the habit was dropped; it was more that it just changed. They still tried to go out every Friday; it just wasn't to the same places, less class, more fast food. After Randy was born, this new tradition was merely cemented.
Maybe Jill hated it, sitting at the grimy table watching Tim grunt and wrestle a piece of pizza from the box, Brad and Randy's gurgling squeals a sheer encouragement. Mark moaned in his highchair, upset that he was missing out on the excitement.
Jill sighed, pulling Mark into her lap, as he tried in vain to leap at his father. When they'd gotten married, she'd told her own mother that for her and Tim, those romantic nights out would never end. They'd have kids, hire babysitters, have one night a week, just for them. Her mother had laughed in her face. Men only wooed till they got you into bed, she'd claimed loudly, glaring at her own husband, and Jill was starting to see why her mother never took to those family outings.
She'd spoken to an older friend, Tess, about it a few days ago, a woman with two boys of her own. Jill had asked when this sort of thing ended, Tess said that she was yet to see any refuge, and her sons were making their way to college.
So, Jill figured, she'd probably get used to this. To belching boys, and sweaty husbands, to pizza and Mc Donalds, to graffitied tables and grimy public toilets.
Mark reached up, clammy little fingers clasping at her dangly earrings.
Yep, she'd probably have to get used to this.
Next up: 18 - Non-stop Fighting
