That was missing from my life. That sense of ‘living’ for another person,of doing things for another person. Even for a year or two… to have that feeling, that anticipation, that memory, that love.
I wouldn’t want it beyond two years, for then the parting would be too traumatic. But just to know it, just to feel it…
The near indifference Patrick and I felt for each other was transferred to the children. They could have been adopted for our connection to them.
Patrick and I had discussed it during one of those stray moments of intellectual intimacy.
He had felt guilt. Yes, he was honest enough to recognise that these children of my body were just a random connection of sperm and egg. A sort of hurdle we had to jump.
There is getting through school, there is graduating and going to work, there are relationships, there is marriage. And after marriage comes children.
To run the race, jump all the hurdles is how one survives life.
Patrick felt guilt, but I did not.
I reminded him that we had portrayed the loving parents and they believed it. That had lacked for nothing, never suffered. They weren’t beaten, abused, starved, denied, they had a happy perfect childhood.
There was no reason to expose what they didn’t know existed.