Moving Day

This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright infringement on the original work is intended. Copyright Reagan Kavanagh 2007.

MAXIMUS
It was mid-February, and we were moving into our new home. It was but three years since I first encountered Cassandra in the supermarket the day following the commemoration of St. Valentine's life. Given the chance of that meeting, I could scarcely believe the changes her entrance into my life had wrought. We were married. We had conceived and lost a child; I had come near to losing her in the car crash that precipitated her miscarriage. She had conceived a second time in mere months, and Emily was born this past December. I have anything a man could wish; I am more than well content. More than that, I am blessed by the gods with a woman who loves me as I love her, and we will raise our children together.

Our friends had again gathered to assist us in transporting our belongings from the old farmhouse into our recently finished home. Dino and Ellen, Terry and Diana, Sooze, Sarah, and young Dolores. Junior and Celeste and their three children were also present this day to assist us in our labours. Bill and Nancy had added their presence though I would have to watch Bill carefully to insure he did not overextend himself. He is somewhat overweight, and Diana has advised me that Nancy fears he will one day have a heart attack.

Our work day began well before sunrise. Our friends had arrived by five, and we had breakfasted well on the meal Cassandra prepared for us. Following the preparation of our meal which was accomplished before Emily awoke, Cassandra would be of little assistance this day as she must care for Emily. A child of but two months of age requires almost constant attention though Sooze and Sarah – a trained nanny – had offered to take care of Emily in order to give my wife time to supervise placement of the things we would move this day.

Cassandra was in the new house with Emily strapped to her chest in what is called a baby sling. It is a garment that slips over one's shoulder with a pouch in front. Emily was carried snugly against her mother's breast in order that we would not worry about her whilst Cassandra directed the movement of items into their new locations.

I was in the farmhouse with Terry, Dino, Bob, and Junior. The women – Ellen, Diana, Sooze, Sarah, Dolores, and Nona were in the new house and busily tidying for the final time before we men began moving furniture. I walked across the expanse of what would be lawn when spring arrived to determine their readiness. I heard the vacuum cleaner when I opened the door, followed by the voice of my wife.

“Over here, please, Dolores. There are some loose carpet fibres that need to come up before the couch goes down.” I turned to see Dolores' smiling face and one matching it on the face of my wife. Emily was asleep as her mother had predicted. I walked across the room in order that Cassandra might hear me above the noise of the vacuum.

“Are you ready for us to bring the furniture?” The new furnishings had been delivered, uncrated, and were waiting in the garage for transport.

“As ready as I'll ever be. It still seems there are a thousand things to do, but it will all get done in time.” Her usual philosophical attitude had returned in place of the tetchiness that had plagued her for a time following Emily's birth.

“We are ready to bring in the couch and chairs. The entertainment centre and furnishings for the media room will follow, then the dining room suite. After that come the various bedroom furnishings.” We had discussed moving Emily into her nursery sometime past and out of our bedroom, but I felt it was too soon. Cassandra had given in to me though with somewhat ill-concealed grace. She is of the opinion that infants should not sleep in the same room with their parents past the first month of life; there had been several heated discussions on the matter, but for the moment, my will had prevailed. I confess it is not always so.

REAGAN
We'd come so very far in such a short time that it boggled the mind. Max had moved from his loft into my house, we'd married, conceived and lost a child and now had a daughter, bought the farm (literally) and moved into the small farm house whilst waiting for our new home to be completed. We were parents now and had designed our house in anticipation of a large family. Once I'd actually acknowledged to myself that I did want to marry Max, the issue of children was moot. We both wanted children, and I was willing to bear as many as God would let me. Max would have been happy with Emily alone or a dozen. He truly left the decision on when to stop up to me.

“You must bear the burden of carrying and delivering them, Cara. I will accept as many as you are able to bear safely and are willing to give me, and I will love them all equally.” After seeing him with Emily, any lingering doubts I might once have harboured regarding his willingness to be a father in every sense of the word had vanished like mist in the sun that follows the dawn.

All our friends were here today to help us move into the new house. I knew I wasn't going to be of much assistance in the physical sense; there's only so much you can do with an infant strapped to your body, but I'd not have left Emily in someone's else's care for an instant. I was enjoying being a mother far too much to give over that pleasure.

I stood in the hallway that led to the media room, nursery, and our bedroom, pointing to locations in each of the rooms where specific pieces of furniture were to be placed. I held my breath as Max, Terry, Dino, and Junior manhandled the box containing the 42-inch flat-screen, soon-to-be-wall-mounted plasma screen television into the media room. I was amazed when they had it uncrated and onto the wall in just under two hours.

Why did we buy a 42-inch television? Because we rarely go to the cinema, and we both enjoy films. As our family grows, we'll likely be even less inclined to go out to see a film. I don't envision myself packing several children into the car and taking them to a theatre. That worked when I was a child and drive-in theatres were common because you could take the children in their pajamas and let them go to sleep in the back of the car. That isn't an option any longer; it seems drive-in theatres are as extinct as the Dodo. Another factor is that both Max and I have very strong ideas about what we may be willing to have our children see and at what ages.

We've both seen films with a G rating indicating there's nothing in a given film's theme or language, such as nudity and sex, violence, etc. that would, in the view of the rating board, be offensive to parents whose younger children might view the film. We'd realised rather quickly that a G rating by the board of censors did not mean we would consider the film suitable for our children. We reserved the option to determine for ourselves what our children see, and we were our own rating board.

We purchased the large screen because we both enjoys films with sweeping panoramas such as you see in The Sound of Music, Hawaii, and most recently, A Good Year. We also enjoy seeing every tiny detail. I'd been amazed at the difference in watching March of the Penguins in the theatre and what we could discern in watching the DVD we purchased on our 27-inch television at home. Many of the expressions in the penguins' eyes and on their faces were lost on the smaller screen. We wanted to be able to see nuances.

And what of the admittedly elaborate sound system we'd bought? We love music, all sorts of music. I like being able to hear the thrum of the cello in the music from Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, and being able to clearly distinguish it from the other stringed instruments. I want to be able to actually hear the difference in a French horn and a trombone. You don't get that unless you have a good sound system. Max loves opera, as do I, but we also like the theme song from The Sopranos. I admit that we spoil ourselves, and we're very fortunate; we can afford to cater to our preferences.

Once the media centre was set, the new furniture for our bedroom was installed, followed by Emily's nursery. Max wants Emily sleeping in the room with us, and I'm not happy about that. In earlier discussions, I'd given into his wishes. Today we make a new start in our new home; part of that new start is moving our child out of our room and into her own. I'm hopeful that having our friends present today will be sufficient to avoid the inevitable confrontation I know will result.

Junior and Bill hung my pot rack from the kitchen ceiling; Ellie and I unpacked and hung my cookware then stood back to consider the effect.

“That looks great, Reags.” I smiled and turned to see Dee standing there giving the room her appraisal. She was right; it did look great and was just what I'd envisioned. The lounge furniture followed, and then the dining room. Dee, Ellie, Sooze, Sarah, and I unpacked my china and crystal, washed all of it by hand, and carefully placed all of it into the breakfront. The sunlight streaming through the windows shot rainbows off the facets of my Waterford. I leant to kiss the top of Emily's head as she slept against my body.

“I hope you like Waterford, Emily, because you have service for twelve.” I heard Dee's snort at that comment.

“Emily, if you don't like Waterford, don't ever tell your mother. She'll have you shot at sunrise.”

“With my luck, she'll love Waterford but hate my pattern!”

We unloaded the dishwasher and placed my daily use china and glassware in the kitchen cabinets, followed by the stainless flatware's placement in the appropriate drawer. As with my crystal, we had washed my Georgés Briard china, dried it, and put it in the bottom of the breakfront. The small chest containing my sterling went into the breakfront's centre drawer. We had the kitchen sorted by eight and moved on to other areas of the house.

SOOZE
I knew Reags had a lot of 'stuff' but had no clue that she had two sets of china. Given that we'd only been in her home on holidays when she pulled out the good stuff, I'd only seen her sterling and what I now knew was her good china. I knew she had everyday flatware and glassware; no one uses Waterford and sterling on a daily basis unless you're the Queen of England.

The guys brought in the furniture, and we stood around and pointed to where Reags wanted it – it's hard to move furniture when you have a baby in a sling over your shoulder – then we pitched in and moved everything into its final position. We'd just about finished up the living room when Emily started to cry. Reags excused herself and headed down the hall to the nursery where Emily's things were in place to nurse her.

I'd had no idea Max was within earshot until he bolted through the front door with a look of almost panic on his face.

“Where is Emily? Is she alright?” Easy there, Big Fella, she's a baby, and she'd going to cry when she's hungry, wet, or tired. It's the only way babies have of communicating.

“It's time for her morning feeding, Max. Reags just took her to the nursery to take care of her.”

“The nursery? Her cot and rocker are in our room.”

“Umm, no, Max, they're in the nursery. I saw them myself not more than ten minutes ago.” His face clouded like a storm cloud blocking the sun, and he took off down the hall. The nursery door closed behind him, and I heard raised voices followed by a really angry squalling from Emily. Babies do get upset when their parents argue in their presence, and there was obviously an argument in progress. Uh-oh.

The nursery door opened a few minutes later, and Max reappeared, Emily's crib in his hands as he stalked across the hall to their bedroom. Reags followed him into the hall, fury all over her face. Max returned and got the rocker and took it into their room. Reags opened her mouth to say something, and he cut her off.

“I will not discuss this with you whilst our guests are present. You will hold your tongue until tonight when we are alone.” Oh, shit. Obviously all is not a bed of roses just now.

I heard something behind me and turned to see Dee, Sarah, and Ellie behind me, watching the scene unfold. Ellie raised her eyebrow, and we turned as one and took ourselves back to the front of the house where the guys were bringing in the furniture for the upstairs bedrooms.

MAXIMUS
I had moved Emily's cot and rocker as well as her changing table into our bedroom in the farmhouse prior to bringing my wife and child home from hospital and on to the new house after Emily awoke this morning. Cassandra and I were agreed that until she was a bit older, she would sleep in the room with us. It is unfortunate that at the time of that discussion, I failed to stipulate what I considered to be 'a bit older.'

My anger flared on learning from Sooze that Cassandra was in the nursery with our child rather than our bedroom suite. I believe I managed to appear calm as I walked down the hall to the nursery, inside, and closed the door. It is not my way to advertise differences with my wife to our friends. She was sitting in the rocker with my daughter to her breast, and Emily was suckling.

“What are you doing?” She looked up at me as if I were an idiot child.

“Feeding our daughter; isn't that obvious?”

“Why are you doing so in this room? I placed her cot and changing table and the rocker in our suite after she awoke this morning. When did you move them here?”

“When I got over here with Emily and saw that you'd put them in our suite. I thought we had decided that she would sleep with us until we moved into this house, then move her to her nursery. I moved her things into her nursery where they – and she – belong.” Her voice had risen with her last statement. Unfortunately, my own rose when I responded.

“Keep your voice down! I have no wish to air our differences to our guests.”

“Our guests? They aren't guests; they're our friends and helping us move. And if you have doubts about my knowledge of child development and the appropriate time for moving a child into his or her own room, ask Sarah. Her Masters is in infant and child development! I can assure you that despite your own vast knowledge of child care issues, she WILL agree with me!”

It was plain that she was beyond the point of reasonable discourse, and I took matters into my own hands, opened the door, picked up Emily's cot and took it across the hall, and reinstalled it in our suite. I followed with the rocker as my wife had now stood and followed me to the door and then moved the changing table. She opened her mouth as I returned to meet her in the hall, and I silenced her, saying we would not discuss the matter until the evening and following the departure of our guests.

REAGAN
He is beyond doubt the most stubborn, mule-headed man I have ever known, and I include my ex in the number. If it weren't for the fact that I love him to distraction, I'd very likely have shot him by now and been forced to ask Dee and Ellie to help me hide the body. Max stalked down the hall toward the front of the house and rejoined the men in bringing in furnishings for the upstairs bedrooms. I put Emily in her crib in our room – I wasn't up to moving it again today – and walked back to join my friends.

“Well, that went well.” Fortunately, they're all accustomed to my sarcasm and laughed. Sarah gave me a hug and commiserated.

“Reags, I can't tell you how many times I've seen this argument played out with new parents over the years. I adore infants but was so relieved when I interviewed with Sooze and discovered that she was widowed. At least I knew I wouldn't have to deal with her husband being the overly protective father of an adolescent female.” Sooze raised an eyebrow.

“What she didn't say is that we've had our fair share of disagreements over how to parent that same adolescent female!”

“Yes, but at least those discussions haven't involved Dolores sleeping in our bedroom!” We all shouted in laughter just as the men were coming down the stairs for another load. Max shot a glare at me; I know he thought we were laughing at him, and in a way, I suppose we were. I looked at the group.

“Well, at least the object of our disagreement is asleep for a couple of hours, so now I can get some work done. I'm heading upstairs to move the bedroom furniture that's in place into final positions.” Sooze and Sarah went with me, and Dee and Ellie started opening boxes of books and knick knacks putting them into shelves and bookcases. They'd both been in my home so many times over the years that they knew precisely where I'd want everything. Thank God for old and dear friends.

Sooze and Sarah had disconnected the baby monitors in the farmhouse and moved them to the new house, installing the original ones plus the additional units in every room in the house. I'll bet I'm the only woman on the planet with a baby monitor in her mud room. Guess whose idea that was. The conversation had been rather short; I was in the last week of my pregnancy when Max said we needed additional monitors.

“We already have them for all the bedrooms and the kitchen, lounge, and media room. Why do we need them in rooms we don't use, such as the upstairs bedrooms? No one has 22 baby monitors! We don't need them in the utility room or the garage, much less the mud room. We don't need them in the upstairs bedrooms or bath; those are for guests at present, and they won't be taking care of our children. By the time our children move into the upstairs bedrooms, they won't need baby monitors. We don't need one in the foyer or dining room or the powder room for Heaven's sake!”

I hadn't mentioned the ones he intended installing in our bathroom and CLOSET, and I didn't dare mention the attic, or he'd have put one up there, too.

“Cara, it is to be a very large house. We will not always have her in the room with us. I feel it imperative that we always be able to hear her in the event she requires our attention.” I shut up and gave over …it was easier than having another argument about my husband's notions regarding infant care.

MAXIMUS
She is beyond doubt the most stubborn, obstinate woman I have ever known, and I include Lucilla in the number. She is tenacious in her desire to move Emily into her nursery on this very day. Only the presence of our guests had precluded a shouted confrontation in the matter.

I do agree with her that after a time children should not occupy the same bedroom as their parents. I am also convinced that day is not yet come where Emily is concerned. My wife had attempted to have me specify a date when I believed the time would be right for the move of our daughter into her nursery. I had dissembled; in truth, I do not know at this moment what that date will be. I know only that when it arrives, I will sense it.

Cassandra accuses me of being overly protective. Perhaps she is correct, but she has not experienced the loss of a child due to parental malfeasance. I still blame myself for the death of my son at the hands of the Praetorians. Had I taken Commodus' hand, both Marcus and my wife would have lived. I would have retired from the Army at the end of that campaign and returned to my home in Hispania. I would have grown old with my wife and children at my side. I would never have been sold into slavery and died in the arena.

I would never have met Cassandra.

My rational mind accepts that all things are preordained, and whilst we may effect some measure of change in our circumstances, there is nothing we can do about those things in which the gods are determined save rail against the vagaries of Fate. It was fated for me to lose Marcus and Ileana, yet I still feel I bear the blame. I will do nothing to jeopardise Emily's safety, and everything I can to ensure her well-being. If my behaviour angers my wife, so be it.

TERRY
We were driving home when she spoke.

“You think they'll settle out of court?”

“It's not going to get that far. You know Max and Reags; you're the one who's so often commented on the volatility of their relationship. They'll have a bit of a row, she may throw the odd pot at him, he'll duck, and it will be over.”

“Maybe …but I don't see her giving in easily in an area where her knowledge clearly trumps his, and when it comes to child rearing and development, she does have the edge.”

“Well, there's nothing we can do about it, and we're not getting involved.”

“Too fucking right!” She sounds more like an Aussie every day.

DINO
“I'm a little worried about Max and Reags and that thing with Emily sleeping in their bedroom.” My wife looked across the console at me as I drove.

“Dino, she knows more about infant and child care than most women I know who've had ten kids. Max is going to have to learn to trust her judgement on things like that.” I shook my head.

“I don't know about that. I've seen him pissed, but he was livid when he came back outside and told Tio and me that she'd moved the baby's things out of their room and into the nursery.”

“Well, he moved them right back into their bedroom …I saw him. Dee, Sooze, Sarah, and I were standing there and watched him.”

“That probably made him even madder …four women witnessing his inability to control his wife.” That made her laugh.

“If Max – or any man – thinks for one minute that he's going to control Reagan Kavanagh, he has another think coming.”

I wish she'd said Reagan Espan instead of Reagan Kavanagh.

SOOZE
The person I love most in the world aside from my daughter was obviously worried about what had happened at Max and Reags' today.

“Sooze, I've seen couples divorce over child care issues.”

“They aren't going to divorce over where Emily sleeps. Besides, both of them know they'd never find anyone else who would put up with their individual idiosyncrasies.” Sarah laughed and shook her head.

“Well, there is that!”

NANCY
“Do you have any idea what Max and Reagan were mad at each other about today?”

“They're mad at each other? Why?” I love my husband, but at times he's thicker than a fence post.

“That's what I just asked you, Fool. Didn't you notice that when we got there this morning they were happy as clams, and by the time we left, they were barely speaking.”

“Don't most folks git like that when they're movin'?”

I give up.

MAXIMUS
The door had scarcely closed behind our guests when my wife spoke.

“We have to settle this, and we have to settle it now. I'm not going to spend the next year fighting with you over where Emily sleeps.”

“She is too young to be in a room without one – or both – of us near.” She shook her head as if I were a recalcitrant child. I suspect she considers me such in this instance.

“Max, we will be near. We're right across the hall from her nursery, and we have baby monitors on both sides of our bed. We'll be able to hear her sucking her thumb, for Christ's sake!” Perhaps if I woo her she will come round.

“Cara, give me a bit of time to adjust to the notion. Come, let us have time together …she is asleep now, and will not wake for more than an hour.” Her shoulders set as she raised her eyebrow at me.

“If you think for one minute that a quick fuck is going to take the edge off my temper, you'd best think again.”

Perhaps that was not a good approach in this instance. I must work on what is commonly called my 'technique.'

REAGAN
I wish my mother were still alive. It's just possible she might have known how to work Max. Well, probably not. I doubt my dad ever took sufficient interest in either of us to have gotten into a row about where I slept and at what age. As long as I didn't interfere with his plans, he didn't care what I did.

What is it with men? Do all of them think that the fastest way to end an argument is with sex? Yes, I know that a fight – verbal or physical – is physically arousing to men, but hasn't the human male managed to learn over the millennia that the last thing a woman is interested in when she's angry is having sex with him?

My husband was standing there with a bulge in his jeans and a clearly expectant look on his face. His obvious thought process was to get me into bed, make me come, and all would be well. What he didn't understand was that if he got me into bed at this point, I'd rip his dick off and shove it down his throat.

“Just leave me alone, Max. I'm not interested in discussing this further, and I'm sure as shit not interested in sex at the moment, not with you and not with anyone. Go away!”

His face fell as I turned and started toward my beautiful new kitchen. I'd planned on making a celebratory dinner tonight. That wasn't going to happen. Given my present mood, he'd be doing well to get peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and he abhors peanut butter. I opened the pantry and looked inside …canned tuna. All righty, then. Tuna salad and crisps. If that didn't suit his fancy, he knows where the local Burger King is located. I made the salad, slapped some of it between two pieces of bread, and poured chips onto the plate. He was sitting in front of the new TV when I walked into the media room and plopped the plate on the coffee table in front of him.

“Enjoy your dinner. I'm going to bed. Alone. You've got Emily for the night.”

I walked across the hall and grabbed a night shirt from the bureau, got my cleansing cream, night cream, and toothbrush from the bathroom and walked back to the foyer and up the stairs. So much for lovely first nights in new homes. I do hope our problems today aren't predictive of what our life in this home will be in the future.

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