Never Truly Living

Chapter 18

M called on the eighth of January, wishing Vesper a Happy New Year before getting down to the important business of informing her that there was a position opening up in the beginning of March at Barclays.

"It's in Accounts Receivable in Treasury Services, and I'm afraid it's a bit more mundane than your previous position," M told her that afternoon, "but you're more than qualified for it, and I've already given them your name and references. The position's all yours, if you're up for it."

Vesper sighed deeply, M was right. Vesper had spent time working in Accounts Receivable before she'd been accepted to work at the Treasury. This position was right up her alley, and would pay more than enough to fund her life here. She'd finally be able to pay her own rent, provide for her children and pay Sam out of her own salary.

But in the beginning of March, Vera and Oliver would still only be ten months old, still in need of their mother's care. She'd have to wean them off before then, which she knew might be a bit of a struggle. It would be strange, finally being separated from both of them, that last connection cut, her body finally her own again.

She had to admit it would be freeing, to not be tied down anymore by her children's incessant feedings, to be able to go out for hours and not have to deal with the embarrassing leaks and painful fullness in her chest.

But she was hesitant to sever that connection, that tie that she had with them. She loved that time with them, that silent bonding that took place. She didn't want to lose that, didn't want to be away from them any more than she had to be.

But M was waiting for her answer, waiting as she had done for the several months Vesper was not ready to work. And she knew this was a golden opportunity. Many people in this city strove to get that high, to be up near the top, to make enough money to provide for their families. And most of them didn't have the luxury of having their bills and rent paid for them for 10 months.
She had to admit she'd been spoiled here by M. Yes, it was repayment for what had happened in Venice, and she supposed, for keeping Oliver, Vera, and Vesper away from James, but the truth was M had been indulging her. Vesper had almost been pampered. She had been able to enjoy her son and daughter's first few important months in this great flat, with Sam to help.

She sighed, heavily.
"I'll take it," she told M.

•

Her first day went rather well, all considering. Oliver and Vera both gave a little bit of a fuss in the morning when she left, but she kissed their little heads and wished them goodbye, knowing that Sam would be able to calm their tears. She pushed back that instinctual, visceral pain from being away from them, the crushing guilt that their cries managed to evoke.

She stood in the hall outside their door listening to her son and daughter wail, breathing deeply, but finally they both quieted inside the flat. She straightened her clothing, her new tailored suit, and slung her expensive bag over her shoulder. She headed off down the hall, her new heels clacking on the marble floor.
It was amazing how simply dressing the part did most of the work of putting her in that professional mindset again. As she left the flat, climbing into the car that was waiting for her, she felt her anxiety begin to dissipate. And as the car pulled away, and she watched the people and buildings rush past her window, she began to even anticipate the day.

She knew that Sam would be fine with Vera and Oliver. The girl had a way with them that astounded Vesper occasionally, she could calm some of their most awful tantrums. She was young and imaginative, and Vesper had absolutely no reason to worry.
Their weaning had taken much less time and heartbreak than she had thought it would, and after a little more than a week they were both completely adjusted to solid foods. Her chest ached for a while, but the milk soon dried up, and like that they were severed from her.
She had shed a few tears over it, over the loss of that time they'd had together, that bonding experience, but then there had been the new drama of feeding time, struggling with getting the semi-solid baby food into her children's mouths. They were ten months old now, still crawling, but Oliver was now starting to use tables and chairs to pull himself up to standing. She knew that they would both be walking soon, no longer the infants she had cradled and rocked, but full-fledged, energetic toddlers.

The car pulled up to her destination and she got out, joining the other similarly-dressed professionals milling about the sidewalk. The car drove away and she looked around at the people walking past, in their expensive tailored suits and posh Italian loafers, the cups of high-priced coffee clutched in their hands; the type of people she was well familiar with from her position at the Treasury. Then suddenly it switched on, just like that, that desire to work and succeed, to impress superiors, to feel like a productive member of society. She had been good at her job, had enjoyed succeeding at it, at climbing the ladder and making a living for herself, and she supposed, that part of her had never gone away. She could be both mother and career woman.
She took a deep breath and entered the building.

•

She was surprised how quickly time began to pass, once she was situated with her new job, and Sam, Vera, and Oliver had adjusted to her new schedule. M was right, she was perfect for this position, and she had to admit it was nice to be back amongst adults again. She missed her son and daughter, yes, but she kept in touch with Sam throughout the day.

Occasionally, she'd bring Vera and Oliver in to meet for lunch in the park, like they used to do. The weather was warming up quite quickly, the snow was gone, and spring was starting to bloom.

Soon Oliver was eleven months old and took his first steps one day while she was in a meeting. Vesper took the call from Sam, stealing away to the bathroom to cry a few quick tears.

But then she met the two of them for lunch, and Vera took her first steps while Oliver gave her a display of his new skill on the green grass. She wiped her tears of joy and kissed her son and daughter goodbye, then headed back to work. Heartened that, although she missed her son's first steps, she had at least seen her daughter's.
Such was the life of a single, working mother.

•

The twenty-ninth of April came as sunny as it had been when her son and daughter were born. Vera was standing in her cot waiting for her when she woke that morning, her round eyes bright and his dark hair tousled. It was getting a little long, sticking this way and that, and she smoothed it down and kissed her head.
"Happy birthday, darling," she whispered to her, lifting her from the cot and hugging her against her. She could not believe it had been a year since that day, since she had welcomed her children into the world in their tiny bathroom back in London.

Theirs had been a perfect, serene birth, and, as she thought back on it and those few hours afterwards, as she got to know them for the first time, she missed their babyhoods so desperately. A deep sadness squeezed at her heart, at the thought that she would never be that small again. She hugged her firmly against her, letting a few tears fall.

But, predictably, she started to squirm and she reluctantly put her down gently on her feet. She quickly ran out of the room, and she could not help but smile at her little body toddling out into the corridor. No, she would never be a baby again, but she would still need her, still cry for her when she was hurt. She would be her mother forever, no matter how old or tall he grew.

She sighed, wiping away the tears, picked up a still slightly asleep Oliver, and followed her daughter out of her and her brother's room.