The Husband Returned with the Baby

I’m leaving! declared Edward.

Leaving where? asked his wife, Iris, her mind still lost in the endless list of groceries she was drafting.

Completely!

Completely? What about Christmas? Iris repeated, bewildered.

In jokes about infidelity everything sounds funny: Your lover called the race is off! Your trout called the caviar is gone! But in real life its grim, not at all amusing.

Edward walked out before the New Year. Not to some faroff place where planes never reach or trains never run, but straight out of the house, his polished shoes clacking on the floor, trailing a lingering scent of the costly perfume Iris had given him.

He had spent days packing, arranging his belongings, trying to convince her why she should understand and forgive himtheres even a television show about men like this. And the heavens, it seemed, were on his side.

The Christmas tree was already trimmed. Iris, perched on the sofa, was pondering the festive attire, the feasts layout, and scribbling a shopping list: they were to welcome the New Year with friends. The mood was upbeat, as it always is on the eve of the holidaybecause the anticipation often feels richer than the celebration itself.

Fiftyfiveyearold Iris Whitmore adored the season, just as most English folk do. Yet the snow was thinning each year, dimming the wintry glow. On the bright side, the postChristmas sales began in November, and Iris, ever thrifty, had already prepared all the gifts, saving not just money but time, effort, and nerves.

Everything was ready: earrings for all the sisters, trinkets for the children, grandchildren, and even a present for her beloved husband. Edward had bought a fine woollen jumper with reindeer motifsa longheld wish of his. It cost Iris barely a few pence, but what wouldnt a wife do for the man she loves?

All the parcels were wrapped, hidden, waiting for the right moment. She wondered what he might bring backperhaps a ring? No, better some cash, since Edward, at fiftythree, was not known for his refined taste.

Then, abruptly, Edward blurted, Im leaving!

Leaving where? Iris asked again, still hunched over her list.

Completely!

What do you mean completely? What about Christmas? she pressed.

What Christmas, Iris? Edward grimaced. When will you ever learn?

He spat the words slowly, as if each syllable were a deliberate step: Im leaving you. Completely. Understand? Ive found someone else, and were expecting a child. Is that clear now?

The clarity struck Iris like a blow. She wanted to ask, And what about me? but that would have provoked the same fury as asking about the holiday.

It seemed he had already set up a new home with his younger lovershe was a strikingly fresh face, perhaps better looking, as the old adage goes. Edward boasted with a gleam in his eye that his beloved would soon bear a son; after all, Iris and he already had two grown daughters. He imagined finally having an heir, even though it was unclear what there was to inherit. His wife earned more than him; the two apartments they owned were in Iriss name, with the modest flat they shared merely a tenancy.

Iris, however, refused to add another bitter spoonful to her pot of delicacies. She had no patience for more illusion. Her world, once steady, shattered in an instant.

We met at the office party! Edward declared cheerily.

Why should that matter to me? Iris retorted, disgusted.

What do you want me to say? Edward asked, eager to speak of his new love, as if it were a noble sentiment. For you its nothing but filth! Iris snapped back, her eyes widening in disbelief. She realised he was oblivious to the pain he caused, perhaps overestimating his own intellect.

Edward vanished into a new, supposedly happy life, while Iris stood frozen like an ancient stone, tears failing to fall. He left, and she lingered with her halffinished list, a relic now useless.

They had been married twentyeight years; she thought they could relax into comfortsteady family, dependable support, adult children. Yet something was missing, and the illusion crumbled. In a robotic trance, Iris crossed off Champagne from her listEdwards favourite drinkthen collapsed onto the settee, emptyminded.

Three hours slipped by like a minute; the room darkened. The phone rang. What should we bring for the New Year? asked her friend Tess.

Edwards gone! Iris answered.

Gone for good? Tess pressed.

How would you know? Iris snapped.

Everyone knows, Tess replied after a pause. Ian worked with Edward.

Did you know and keep quiet? Iris shouted.

Yes! Youll patch things up, then what do I do? Tess retorted. They fell silent, and Iris felt a numbness settle over her.

Tess was right; celebrating the New Year with friends now seemed hollow. She was alone, so she visited her elderly mother, then on January1st went to her daughters house where the whole family gathered. There she announced that her husband had run off with a younger woman. Of course, everyone already knewthe traitors were exposed, and she felt as though the world were staring at her with disdain.

Her spirits sank further; she left the party early, walking home through quiet, snowladen streets. The city, festively lit, was almost empty. The gentle fall of snow seemed to ease her heart.

Let them be happy, she thought, its not my burden to bear. After all, no one dies from a broken heart; life goes on, even with a few bruised egos.

A year later, on December29th, her exhusband finally walked back into her life. The tree was again dressed, Iris was again drafting a list, this time planning a New Years gathering with Tess as before. She intended to introduce her friend to Victor, a charming former soldier who had recently proposed to her.

What else could she do, sit on a dusty sofa alone? She was independent, lively, selfsufficient; he was a handsome, freespirited gentleman. Suddenly a knock sounded. At the door stood Edward, a small rucksack slung over his shoulder, a bundle in his hands.

Good heavens, Iris muttered. Did he actually bring a baby?

He opened, What if I wasnt home?

I would have opened the lock! Edward replied.

What if I changed the locks?

You didnt? Youre kindhearted still, he said, asking, Will you let us in?

Iris stepped aside, not eager to shoo away a man with an infant. He slipped into the hallway, led them to the bedroom, and set the sleeping baby on the bed.

How old is he? Iris asked, emotionless.

Five months, Edward answered.

Where is your lover? Have you even asked the oak where your true love resides? Iris inquired, her plans never including a strangers child appearing in her home.

My love has moved on, Edward whispered.

Ah, lofty affairs! Iris replied. Why are you here then?

Dont undress him yet, Edward began, attempting to strip the child.

Will you accept me? Edward asked, surprised at his own nakedness.

Exactlyyouve overestimated me before, you fool! Iris retorted. A child? I wouldnt let you in, let alone a strangers baby!

Turn around, then, he said, sighing. I cant manage alonesorry, Iris, a demon led me astray.

Demons are what you get after a night of revelry, Iris replied. When it becomes a habit and a child is involved, its no longer a demon but something else. Dont blame the unseen forces, she added. Take your child and go. As Zosha once said, you cant feed everyone.

What if I dont leave? Edward asked suddenly.

Stay, then Ill go, Iris said lightly; after all, she and Tess still planned to celebrate together, and Victor had already offered to move in with her. After the holidays Ill return, just so youre not there! she added. Dont expect me to sell the house and split it; you have no say here.

Edward hadnt expected that either; caring for a child alone was impossible. His lover had vanished a couple of days earlier, leaving a note: Dont look for me; youve bored me.

He took a few days leave, then the long festive period arrived. It turned out not to be a partnership at all. Iris, ever kind and caring, kept her home warm, which perhaps coaxed Edward back.

Make yourself comfortable; Ill get ready, she said, as if nothing had changed.

What are you doing? he asked, uneasy.

Whats it to you? Im leaving! Now helpchange the diaper, feed, what else do young fathers do? Ive forgotten! Iris declared, stepping out of the room.

He stared, baffled. If youre not joking, he should go to his mothers. Shes seventyfive, spry, and will help at first. Then he can find a nanny.

Iris was in the bathroom when the front door slammed shut; Edward had indeed left, leaving a crumpled handkerchief on the beda tiny, sad reminder. She smirked, thinking, Better late than never. She felt no pity, not even for the cute infant. After all, a year ago she hadnt felt any sorrow for Edward.

He had simply stepped over everything and walked away, thinking it was his happiness. Well, she thought, off to the shop now; I promised to bake a lasagne for the feast. Victor loves lasagne, not Champagne. Edward, on the other hand, preferred the bubbly. Now her thoughts lingered only on Victor.

She already had his gift ready: the same reindeer jumper Edward had missed last year, a perfect fit for any man. Men in England love reindeers, after all.