My mom gives me a decidedly uncool grin. I kind of wish she could let her feelings fly under the radar just a little bit. “Sure. I’ll save you a taco.”
“Have I ever eaten just one taco?” I ask her.
“I will save you twice as many tacos as I think you could possibly eat,” my mom says with a laugh. “See you at home. Have a good appointment, Alice.”
“You really don’t have to wait if you’ve got plans,” Alice says once my mom is gone.
“My plans involve eating tacos, and as you heard, my mom will save me some.”
“That’s really nice.”
I think maybe Alice’s eyes are watering. I keep talking music in case she wouldn’t want me to notice her tears. “Actually, we’re probably going to record my audition piece this weekend.”
“A viola piece?” she asks.
“Yeah. I wrote it for viola, but we might add in some other stuff. I don’t know, I want the admissions people to see my composing just as much as my playing.”
Kelly pokes her head into the waiting room and calls Alice back. She gives us both a smile. “Nice to see you again, Lacey.”
“You, too,” I say.
“Is it okay if she stays for my appointment?” Alice asks.
“Totally, if you want,” Kelly says as she holds the door to her office open for us. “I wondered if you guys knew each other.”
They go on with their appointment, and I just feel glad to be included. Alice is thirty-two weeks along, so she’s nearing full term. They discuss birth plans and preparations and a lot about easing her discomfort. Then comes the magical moment when Kelly uses the Doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat. It’s like a small microphone that glides over the belly and amplifies the little whoosh, whoosh of the heart.
“I don’t think there’s anything better than that sound,” Alice says, grinning.
“There really isn’t,” I agree.
“Everything looks good with little Eli,” Kelly announces. “And, Lacey, I’m glad you’re here, because I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of an internship. I talked to a radiologist last week, and he is sponsoring one of your classmates doing an independent study. I know the year has already started, but when I heard there were kids from the high school doing internships here, I thought of you. I’d love to sponsor you. I know you completed doula training over the summer.”
“Lacey, you’d be awesome,” Alice says eagerly.
I’m stunned. Volunteering here over the summer was great. I loved seeing the new babies and the happy new families. But that was the summer. I had plenty of time outside my weekly shift to play music.
“I have an independent study already,” I say.
“Oh. That’s too bad. I was just thinking that if you were interested in working something out so you could try attending births as a doula, going through the school is a great way to go, liability-wise.”
“I did think the training was really interesting,” I say. Doulas provide support to women during birth and beyond. It isn’t a medical job. It’s more about supporting them emotionally and physically, trying to ensure they have all the help they could want. Mom and I took the training together over the summer. I observed childbirth classes, learned all about labor and birth and what kind of help women need. “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
Kelly looks so hopeful. I want to say yes just because saying yes is always easier for me than no. But I just don’t see how it would work.
“Of course. But if you want to try it out, you could just drop in on Sunday for a shift. We can totally run it past the hospital as you shadowing me, to consider an independent study or something,” Kelly says.
“I’ll let you know,” I repeat.
“Awesome. Alice, I’ll see you in two weeks,” Kelly says. She gives us both hugs.
Back in the waiting room, Alice turns to me. “Thank you so much for hanging out.”
“Are you kidding? This was fun. And exciting,” I say.
“It’s really cool that you know about this stuff. If I had known that you were into this, I might have told you about Eli sooner.”
“Well, I’m glad I know now. And I could come to other appointments if you want. Just let me know when they are, and I’ll make it work,” I say.
“I would love that,” Alice says. “Thank you.” She lets out a big exhale and then smiles. She already seems so much more at ease than she did when I first spotted her. “You should go get those tacos. And tell Evita I said hi.”
“I will. She’ll be glad to hear you haven’t moved away or something.”
“Could you maybe just let me tell her about the pregnancy and stuff?” Alice asks.
“Oh. Absolutely. I wouldn’t mention anything.”
Alice looks relieved. “I just feel like such a moron. You know? Like, obviously, I knew this was a possibility, but somehow I just didn’t think I would get pregnant, and now I know just how stupid that was. You must think it’s dumb.”
“No way. My mom had me when she was our age, and she’s the smartest person I know. But just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you make all the right choices. Not that … you chose this … You know what I mean,” I say.
She laughs bitterly. “Yeah. I do. I would not have chosen this. But, well, I guess it’s happening.” She shrugs. “And I love Eli already. That’s not it…”
“You’ll be great,” I tell her.
We exchange phone numbers, and I put her next appointment in my phone. I give her one last hug. I am hungry for tacos and tired from a long day, but I’m also energized. I really like Alice, and I’m honestly honored that she let me into her appointment and in on her secret. I probably won’t do the doula thing—not yet anyway—but I can do this. I can support Alice in whatever ways she needs.
Four
Mom wraps me in a hug the moment I walk through the door. “I’m so proud of you! Supporting your friend at her appointment.”
“Yes, Mom, I know. You made that obvious,” I tease.
“We haven’t eaten yet! Come grab a taco,” my stepdad, Charlie, calls from the kitchen. “Big day. Dylan is going to try his first solid food!”
Dylan squeals at me from his high chair. He’s been sitting at the table with us for about a month, eyeing our food, but he has yet to actually try any. I take the seat next to him and kiss his chubby cheeks.
“Food at last!” I say to him in the singsong voice that doesn’t seem to belong to me but comes out whenever I’m around my baby brother.
I help Charlie get all the taco fixings on the table while my mom carefully mashes an avocado.
“I can’t believe my baby is about to eat solid food,” my mom says sadly.
“And your other baby is almost eighteen. Time flies,” Charlie says.
I wait until we are all sitting and digging in to tell my mom that Alice asked me to come with her to her next appointment.
“What did you say?”
“That I’d love to. Kelly even asked if I wanted to try volunteering as a doula, like work it out as another independent study credit. She said I could try it out this Sunday.”
“Oh, Lacey, you have to,” she says, clapping her hands together. “You know you’ll be amazing at it!”
“No. I know it could be cool, but weekends are kind of full as it is.”
“But birth is so special, Lacey. I have this feeling that if you tried it, you’d love it. In the moment of birth, it’s like nothing else exists. I mean, it’s impossible to think of anything other than the fact that you’re about to meet a human for the first time and bear witness to a woman’s strength.” My mom thinks for a second. “Or I should say, a birthing person’s strength. I suppose not everyone who gives birth identifies as a woman.” She shakes her head. “Regardless of a birthing person’s gender, it is the most magical thing on the entire planet. Calling it beautiful doesn’t even scratch the surface.”
Charlie and I exchange a look.
“You are way overselling it,
darlin’,” Charlie says. “And I’m not sure it’s helping your case.”
“I get it, Mom, I really do. I just have to think about it,” I say.
The way she’s grinning at me, I want to give it a try. At least on Sunday. Her enthusiasm is always infectious. And how can I argue that birth is special? I was there when Dylan was born. But that was different. He’s my baby brother.
“I’ll probably go this Sunday,” I say. “But I’m not sure I’ll even like it. I’ll feel like I’m intruding. It’s kind of nerve-racking.”
“You just gotta make that leap. Jump in and help. You’ll be wonderful.” My mom grins. “I am so proud of you. You’ve always been a helper. You’re a people person. You know what people need and you help them get it. This is a natural fit for you, Lacey. You’ll see.”
I put up my hand to stop her. “All right. Stop trying to talk me into it or I’ll change my mind.”
I can tell my mom is fighting the urge to leave me with just one more piece of wisdom, but she changes the subject and asks me if anything fun is happening in school.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” I say, remembering that before seeing Alice, I was excited to tell her all about our guest speaker. “We had an awesome abstinence-only lecture. It was infuriating.”
“You’re joking! What was it this time?” She’s just as outraged as I thought she’d be when I tell her what happened.
“Because only drug users have sex,” she says, shaking her head. “Can you imagine sitting there as a sexually active teenager and feeling that guilt laid on you?”
“I’d imagine it was awkward for them. Not that I totally relate,” I say, with an eye roll. I have the only parent on the planet who would probably be totally fine having a sexually active high schooler, and instead she’s got me.
“So is there going to be a whole unit of this? Or was it just the guest lecture?” Charlie asks.
“I think this might be just the first of many. Apparently, we’re discussing ‘healthy life choices,’” I say with air quotes.
“You have to keep me posted on what y’all talk about,” Mom says. “I want all the details.”
“I’ll take notes.”
“Oh, would you?” Mom asks.
“I’ll probably get teased mercilessly, but I will.” I get up to clear my plate. “I’ve gotta work on this project for a bit, but don’t put Dylan to bed before I can give him a kiss.”
“You got it,” Charlie says.
Down in my room, I put on my headphones, sit at my old desktop computer, and open my music composition software. I’ve been working on Theo’s birthday present for over a month. It’s this sort of Celtic-sounding piece I’m composing for our quartet. Theo and I always complain about the Haydn and Mozart we play. The cello and viola parts are boring, so I set out to write a quartet that would give both of us some of the best melodic lines and epic supporting harmonies. I’m giving the violins a lot of syncopation. It’s sort of an in-joke. On viola I always play these lines that are syncopated, falling after the beat. And Theo and I tease our violinists who can’t play off the beat, because they’ve never had to learn.
I started working on this just to try to trip up our violinists while showboating Theo’s cello skills, but once I got started on it, I got really into it. I decided to add other movements and variations. I can’t wait to give it to him, because I can already imagine how much he’ll like it.
Now with my headphones on, even with the lackluster MIDI synth this computer has, I get sort of lost in it.
* * *
“Lacey!” Charlie calls down to me. “You’ve got a guest!”
I know it’s either Theo or Evita, so I quickly save and quit the program and go upstairs. Theo’s standing in our foyer with his cello and two coffees.
“Thought you might want to jam. Or you could work on your Berklee audition piece?” he asks.
“Definitely.” It isn’t totally like him to show up here unannounced. Evita’s apartment is the usual hangout place. It’s kind of an awesome surprise, and I smile at him and jog up the stairs to take one of the coffees.
“You guys can play until eight, and then it’s Dylan’s bedtime,” Charlie says.
“I know the drill,” Theo says, smiling. He lifts his cello case and raises his eyebrows at me eagerly. He’s always dorkily excited to practice. He follows me down the stairs, and I can tell even from the way his feet fall on the steps that he’s happy about something.
He starts unpacking his cello. I’m sitting on my desk chair. I bite my lip. I sort of want to show him the quartet, but his birthday isn’t until next week.
He notices me watching him. “Hey,” he says as he rosins his bow.
“Hey,” I say. I’ll show him soon. I cross my room and start unpacking my viola.
“So. Why did you want to come here to practice?” I ask. “We only have about twenty minutes until Dylan’s bedtime.” I wish I weren’t curious about why he’s here, but he was hanging out with Lily Ann this afternoon. And Lily Ann is, objectively, a better player than me. She’s been first chair violinist since she moved here. She’s one of those kids who’s been playing forever, starting with the Suzuki Method when she was four or five.
“Oh. I’m not allowed to stay at Lily Ann’s house after dinner,” Theo tells me. “Her folks think it’s inappropriate to hang out after dark. Even though, like, we are all just sitting around the dining room table together.”
And it must be obvious that this pings for me: that Lily Ann’s strict parents are the only reason he’s here.
“No. No, no, no, no. I’d be here anyway. I can’t betray our anti-violin ways! Plus, you’ll give it to me straight. Lily Ann gets sort of swoony when I play.”
“Dude. Everyone swoons when you play.”
His ears turn red. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes. I will tell you when you make a mistake.”
“Exactly!” Theo holds the neck of his cello in one arm and swings the other arm around me and pulls me in, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s tune up.”
We start on this boring étude that our orchestra teacher gave us to practice. Then Theo decides we should play it at the same time, but he transposes it up a tritone so it’s really dissonant when we play together. It messes both of us up, and we are laughing so hard, he’s snorting. Before long, my mom comes down and knocks on the door and we put our instruments away.
We join Charlie in the family room, where he’s watching sitcoms. Theo plops onto the loveseat and I sit next to him. My mom comes down looking exhausted, staring at the video baby monitor. She snuggles into Charlie and kisses him. I roll my eyes at Theo. They’re as bad with PDA as some of the kids at school. But Theo just puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. Theo doesn’t like to be outsnuggled by anyone. It’s a point of pride. Evita and I always list his snuggling as one of his best qualities. Evita likes to mention this in front of Lily Ann especially.
“Where’s Evita?” I ask him, realizing she hasn’t texted me all evening.
“Oh.” He clears his throat and whispers in my ear, “She’s ‘spending the night with me.’ But actually, she’s at a club listening to this big DJ spin.”
“She’s such a wild child,” I whisper back conspiratorially.
“Oh, of all the—” Mom points to the TV. “This is bullshit! Sexist! That woman is being sexually harassed and they’re mining it for comedy. You might as well tell young girls to use their cleavage to get a job.”
“Mom. It’s a joke. It’s a joke the character is clearly in on,” I say.
“What’s wrong with using what you’ve got?” Charlie asks.
My mom gasps. Charlie’s joking, knowing just how to push her buttons. He laughs as he dodges a swat.
“I solemnly swear to wear turtlenecks to job interviews,” I tell her.
“And auditions,” she says.
“I will wear a nun habit,” I joke.
“At the same time, Lacey, I want you to take charge of y
our sexuality. It’s yours and yours alone.” My mom is suddenly serious. And I want to die—she can say whatever she wants in front of Charlie, but Theo is different. This conversation can go a couple of ways. If she brings up the fact that she bought me a vibrator, because I should “know how I work,” I will never be able to look at Theo again.
“Mom. Please.” I look at Theo, communicating how mortifying this is.
But he’s laughing.
“You are a whole person. You don’t need to hide any aspect of yourself. And you don’t need to give any part of yourself away if you don’t want to. You know that, right?” she asks, shutting off the TV. Charlie starts to complain, but she shushes him.
“Yes, Mom.”
“You, too, Theo. Pressure on men can be just as damaging. Don’t be afraid to embrace your own femininity.”
“Oh. God.” I groan, because I feel a lecture coming on. And Theo is the last person who needs this particular lecture. He isn’t averse to showing his emotions, and he’ll wear “girls’ clothes” if he likes the way they look. Affectionate and sensitive are probably the first two adjectives I’d use to describe him.
“No, Lacey, your mom is right,” Theo says. “But, Ms. Burke, you don’t need to worry about that. I was raised by a pack of females. My cycle even syncs up with theirs,” he jokes. But I groan again, because he has no idea what he just stepped into.
“Oh, Theo. No. No, no. We don’t call women ‘females.’ And we definitely don’t joke about the menstrual cycle. Men have used that for centuries to discredit women and their emotions.”
“Oh, I really was joking—”
“I know. But that’s just as bad. Other men aren’t as evolved as you are.”
“Can we please just turn the TV back on?” I beg.
“I better shove off anyway, Lace,” Theo says.
“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” my mom apologizes. She jumps up when Theo stands.
“What part of bringing up the menstrual cycle isn’t embarrassing?” I ask her.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 3
