The Rosie Effect
Page 96
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‘It’s not just dinner. It’s a series of activities.’
‘I’m really tired,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m not up for activities. Why don’t you go with Gene and pick up something on the way home?’
‘The activities are critical. You can drink some coffee if necessary.’
‘If the plane hadn’t turned around we wouldn’t be doing anything. You’d be on a flight back from LA. So it can’t be critical. Why don’t you just tell me what you had planned?’
‘It’s intended to be a surprise.’
‘Don, I’m going home. I’m guessing that you’re trying to do something that will make me change my mind. Or something nostalgic that’ll make me sad, like going to the cocktail bar and making cocktails together or eating at Arturo’s or…the Museum of Natural History’s closed.’
Her expression was ‘smiling but sad’. Gene had gone to his room.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Tell me what you’d planned.’
‘What you said. You only missed one item. You guessed seventy-five per cent, including the museum which I rejected for the same reason.’
‘I guess that says something about what we managed to do together. I finally got into your head just a bit.’
‘Incorrect. Not just a bit. You are the only person who has succeeded in understanding me. It commenced when you reset the clock so I could cook dinner on schedule.’
‘The night we met.’
‘The night of the Jacket Incident and the Balcony Dinner,’ I said.
‘What didn’t I guess?’ said Rosie. ‘You said I got seventy-five per cent. I’m guessing ice-cream.’
‘Wrong. Dancing.’ The Science Faculty ball in Melbourne, where Rosie had solved a technical problem with my dancing skills, had been a turning point. Dancing with Rosie had been one of the most memorable experiences of my life, yet we had never repeated it.
‘No way. With me like this.’ She put her arms around me briefly, demonstrating how her modified shape would have interfered with dancing. ‘You know what? If we had gone out tonight, something would have gone wrong. Something crazy. It would have been different from what you planned but better and that’s what I love about you. But now, crazy isn’t going to work. It’s not what I need. It’s not what Bud needs.’
It was odd, paradoxical—crazy—that what Rosie seemed to value most about me, a highly organised person who avoided uncertainty and liked to plan in detail, was that my behaviour generated unpredictable consequences. But if that was what she loved, I was not going to argue. What I was going to argue was that she should not abandon something she valued.
‘Incorrect. You need less crazy, not zero crazy. You need a scheduled optimum amount of crazy.’ It was time to explain my analysis and solution. ‘Originally there was only one relationship. You and me.’
‘That’s a bit simplistic. What about Phil and—’
‘The domain under consideration is our family unit. The addition of a third person, Bud, increases the number of relationships to three. One additional person, triple the number of binary relationships. You and me; you and Bud; me and Bud.’
‘Thanks for that explanation. We wouldn’t have wanted to have eight kids. How many relationships would that have been?’
‘Forty-five, of which ours would have been one forty-fifth of the total.’
Rosie laughed. For approximately four seconds, it felt as though our relationship had been rebooted. But Rosie had rebooted in safe mode.
‘Go on.’
‘The multiplying of relationships initially led to confusion.’
‘What sort of confusion?’
‘On my part. Regarding my role. Relationship Number Two was your relationship with Bud. Because it was new, I endeavoured to contribute to it, via dietary and personal maintenance recommendations that you reasonably considered to be interference. I was annoying.’
‘You were trying to help. But I need to find my own way. And for once Gene is right—it’s a biological thing. Mothers are more important than fathers, at first anyway.’
‘Of course. But your focus on the baby has reduced your interest in our relationship, due to simple dilution of time and energy. Our marriage has deteriorated.’
‘It happened gradually.’
‘It was sound prior to the pregnancy.’
‘I guess. But I realise now it wasn’t enough by itself. I guess I knew that at some level even back then.’
‘Correct. You require the additional relationship for emotional reasons. But you should not discard another high-quality relationship without investigating all reasonable means of retaining it.’
‘Don, looking after a baby isn’t compatible with the way we used to live. Sleeping in, going out drinking, turning planes around…it’s a whole different life.’
‘Of course. The schedule will have to be modified. But it should incorporate joint activities. I predict that, without the intellectual stimulation and craziness that you have become accustomed to, you will become insane. And possibly acquire some depressive illness as predicted by Lydia.’
‘Depressed and insane? I’ll find stuff to do. But I’m not going to have time to—’
‘That’s the point. Now that you’re going to be occupied with Bud, I should take total responsibility for our relationship. For organising activities, obviously subject to baby requirements.’
‘I’m really tired,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m not up for activities. Why don’t you go with Gene and pick up something on the way home?’
‘The activities are critical. You can drink some coffee if necessary.’
‘If the plane hadn’t turned around we wouldn’t be doing anything. You’d be on a flight back from LA. So it can’t be critical. Why don’t you just tell me what you had planned?’
‘It’s intended to be a surprise.’
‘Don, I’m going home. I’m guessing that you’re trying to do something that will make me change my mind. Or something nostalgic that’ll make me sad, like going to the cocktail bar and making cocktails together or eating at Arturo’s or…the Museum of Natural History’s closed.’
Her expression was ‘smiling but sad’. Gene had gone to his room.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Tell me what you’d planned.’
‘What you said. You only missed one item. You guessed seventy-five per cent, including the museum which I rejected for the same reason.’
‘I guess that says something about what we managed to do together. I finally got into your head just a bit.’
‘Incorrect. Not just a bit. You are the only person who has succeeded in understanding me. It commenced when you reset the clock so I could cook dinner on schedule.’
‘The night we met.’
‘The night of the Jacket Incident and the Balcony Dinner,’ I said.
‘What didn’t I guess?’ said Rosie. ‘You said I got seventy-five per cent. I’m guessing ice-cream.’
‘Wrong. Dancing.’ The Science Faculty ball in Melbourne, where Rosie had solved a technical problem with my dancing skills, had been a turning point. Dancing with Rosie had been one of the most memorable experiences of my life, yet we had never repeated it.
‘No way. With me like this.’ She put her arms around me briefly, demonstrating how her modified shape would have interfered with dancing. ‘You know what? If we had gone out tonight, something would have gone wrong. Something crazy. It would have been different from what you planned but better and that’s what I love about you. But now, crazy isn’t going to work. It’s not what I need. It’s not what Bud needs.’
It was odd, paradoxical—crazy—that what Rosie seemed to value most about me, a highly organised person who avoided uncertainty and liked to plan in detail, was that my behaviour generated unpredictable consequences. But if that was what she loved, I was not going to argue. What I was going to argue was that she should not abandon something she valued.
‘Incorrect. You need less crazy, not zero crazy. You need a scheduled optimum amount of crazy.’ It was time to explain my analysis and solution. ‘Originally there was only one relationship. You and me.’
‘That’s a bit simplistic. What about Phil and—’
‘The domain under consideration is our family unit. The addition of a third person, Bud, increases the number of relationships to three. One additional person, triple the number of binary relationships. You and me; you and Bud; me and Bud.’
‘Thanks for that explanation. We wouldn’t have wanted to have eight kids. How many relationships would that have been?’
‘Forty-five, of which ours would have been one forty-fifth of the total.’
Rosie laughed. For approximately four seconds, it felt as though our relationship had been rebooted. But Rosie had rebooted in safe mode.
‘Go on.’
‘The multiplying of relationships initially led to confusion.’
‘What sort of confusion?’
‘On my part. Regarding my role. Relationship Number Two was your relationship with Bud. Because it was new, I endeavoured to contribute to it, via dietary and personal maintenance recommendations that you reasonably considered to be interference. I was annoying.’
‘You were trying to help. But I need to find my own way. And for once Gene is right—it’s a biological thing. Mothers are more important than fathers, at first anyway.’
‘Of course. But your focus on the baby has reduced your interest in our relationship, due to simple dilution of time and energy. Our marriage has deteriorated.’
‘It happened gradually.’
‘It was sound prior to the pregnancy.’
‘I guess. But I realise now it wasn’t enough by itself. I guess I knew that at some level even back then.’
‘Correct. You require the additional relationship for emotional reasons. But you should not discard another high-quality relationship without investigating all reasonable means of retaining it.’
‘Don, looking after a baby isn’t compatible with the way we used to live. Sleeping in, going out drinking, turning planes around…it’s a whole different life.’
‘Of course. The schedule will have to be modified. But it should incorporate joint activities. I predict that, without the intellectual stimulation and craziness that you have become accustomed to, you will become insane. And possibly acquire some depressive illness as predicted by Lydia.’
‘Depressed and insane? I’ll find stuff to do. But I’m not going to have time to—’
‘That’s the point. Now that you’re going to be occupied with Bud, I should take total responsibility for our relationship. For organising activities, obviously subject to baby requirements.’
