Tori got up before her husband and made him two of his favorite sandwiches, being mindful to go easy on the mayo. Heaven forbid he make a mess in front of his coworkers, or even worse, in the squad car. She put on a pot of coffee, took a quick shower, and got ready for work.

He came ambling out of the bedroom looking like his hair had gotten caught in an eggbeater. She smiled. It reminded her of when they were younger, would make love in the morning, and she would ruffle his hair. She missed those days of feeling free and having a future ahead. It hadn’t turned out exactly as she had hoped. Not even close. Once Brendon had been born, everything changed. She was more or less tied to the house except when she was working, and her husband kept to his routine and his social life. She didn’t think it was reasonable that he could hang out with his friends and she was stuck at home. Not that she had many friends, but there didn’t seem to be a fair division of child-rearing, diaper changing, laundry, shopping, cooking, and cleaning. It was as if she was stuck in the 1950s. But even June Cleaver had the garden club.

She thought about being pregnant and having a baby at thirty-eight. It wouldn’t be easy. By the time the kid was twelve, she would be fifty, and most likely, she would be the oldest member of the PTA. She reminded herself that many women were having children later in life, so maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t feel like an old lady. But that was years ahead.

Her thoughts ran back to when she was younger and imagining things were “years ahead.” But years fly by, and before you know it, you’re stretching your arms in order to read the instructions on a bottle of aspirin. She wasn’t quite there yet, but she had a few acquaintances slightly older than she was who were carrying around “cheaters.” She did a little research and discovered it usually starts to happen around age forty. She sighed. Great. I’ll be squinting to read the labels on the jars of baby food. If only she had family to help out. Someone to talk to. The law firm was a comfortable environment, but as of now, she wasn’t sure if she could discuss her deepest personal matters. She also knew that her pregnancy would become obvious. Her reverie was interrupted by her husband scraping the chair along the floor. “You’re up early.”

“I made you lunch.” She handed him the brown bag that contained two sandwiches, a bottle of water, an apple, and two oatmeal cookies.

He peeked inside. “Wow. Thanks for lunch, Mommy.”

She caught her breath. How could he know? She quickly regrouped and chuckled. “I’m sure your mommy never made lunch for you.”