The Mountain Man's Baby

by Alice Moore

  “I hate my hair. It sticks to my face and I’m just- ugh! I’m going to shave it off!” The complaints pulled a laugh from me, and I grabbed a second wine glass as Cynthia sauntered through the open plan living room. “Why are you laughing? This is serious, Risha.”

  “I know you hate it, but just be patient and it’ll grow back.” My gaze scanned Cynthia’s form, and in my mind my mother’s call floated back to the surface. “So… my mother got invited by her boy toy to a breast cancer charity auction. Have you heard anything about it?”

  Pouring my friend a healthy glass, I paused my question carefully as my eyes lingered on Cynthia’s chest- or what used to be her chest. Now she was flat as a board after her mastectomy; her perfectly round, firm bust that she’d prided herself on was completely gone. Snorting roughly as I passed her the glass, she shook her head before gulping down her wine smoothly.

  “Hell no. You do know that no one actually cares about breast cancer survivors themselves- just the idea that breast cancer can be the one.” Disgust laced Cynthia’s voice, and she grabbed the long neck of the wine bottle to pour herself more. “If you ask me it’s just an excuse for rich people to look good because they donated.”

  “I agree. I only ask because my mother said it’s on Wednesday, and I know you have your thing on Wednesday.” Taking a sip from my glass, I turned back to dinner only to find water boiling in its pot. Carefully taking the long, dried strands of spaghetti in both hands, I snapped them in two before tossing them in. Against my back Cynthia’s gaze bored holes, and the hairs on my neck stood up the longer the silence went on.

  “Are you trying to suggest that we should go to your mom’s little bitch party instead of spending all night at a therapy support group?” Her smile floated to me in her words, and I half shrugged as steam billowed up in my face. “You are! I don’t even care if it’s because you want to meet your mom’s boy toy- imagine the food they’ll serve! Oh shit- maybe I’ll even meet a celebrity and be on tv!”

  “I do not want to meet him. I just thought that maybe it’d be a good idea to actually have someone there that actually had breast cancer. It’ll be my gift to the silver screen.” Lying through my teeth, I twisted to watch Cynthia shake her head, her short hair flying every which way. She was even more beautiful now than she’d been before, and back in high school she was flawless. Our senior class had named her ‘Most Likely to be Experimented on as a Perfect Human Example’, after all.

  Just goes to show how weird our high school was, but they’re not wrong.

  “Yeah right, Risha- say whatever you want. I’ll tell Karen right now that we can’t make it, so there’s no backing out of this. We’re definitely going.” Smiling brightly as I stirred the pasta, I turned back to the stove while Cynthia busied herself with her cell phone.

  All of our years of friendship flashed in my mind’s eye; from the moment we met in sixth grade we were inseparable. When my mom really started to indulge in her bad habit Cynthia was there for me, offering me a place to go to get away from it.

  The expression on her face when we learned she had Stage 3 breast cancer lingered in my field of vision, coming face to face with what she looked like now. She had no hair, no breasts, and was in and out of the hospital for eleven months, but never once did she give up. I wished I had the courage she had; maybe then I’d be able to cut my mother out of my life for good.

  Risha

  “What do you think, Risha?” Carefully sliding in my earrings, I peered past my reflection as Cynthia draped herself elegantly along my door frame. Her sleek, ruby red dress clung to her form, and a pair of black heels gave her the few inches she needed to pull it off. The slit up her leg revealed a tantalizing view of her thigh, and I secured my jewelry before shaking my head.

  “I think everyone will be too busy looking at your butt to realize you don’t have boobs anymore.” Giggling as she stuck out her tongue, I picked at my hair for a moment before turning to her fully. “Seriously, though- you look beautiful. You always look beautiful, Cynthia.”

  “Thanks. I wasn’t sure about it because it sags a little where my tits are supposed to be, but the lady at the store gave me this awesome trick to fix it.” Slowly Cynthia’s eyes scanned my form, and I held my breath behind my pale lipstick. “You should give yourself more credit, you know, Risha. No matter how skinny I got, I still had a pouch. Hell, my body was basically killing me and I couldn’t get rid of my belly fat.”

  Glancing down, I blushed hard at the compliment as I took myself in. I’d worn this dress for a wedding, but it was comfortable and stylish, so I kept it. The cream bodies sparkled with a light coating of lavender colored, fake crystals, and the skirt draped down to my feet in the same way.

  “Thanks. Are you ready to go? My mom said it starts at 6:30.” Quietly Cynthia nodded, and I strapped a thin watch to my wrist before making my way out of my bedroom. My duplex home was too big even for the both of us, and I flicked off my bedroom light with a slight frown. Passing by the guest bedroom, I pursed my lips together tightly at the notion that it’d never be filled.

  I could afford this place on my own, but I didn’t want to be alone. Cynthia and I didn’t have any friends we could tolerate enough to ask to move in, either. Living here was a catch-22.

  “So, what do you think they’re going to serve there? I’ve been dying for some seafood lately.” Humming in acknowledgment, I carefully backed out of the space Cynthia had parked in to roll out of the driveway. Snow piled high on the edge of the concrete slab, and I nibbled my lip in concentration as I tried to avoid skimming the banks.

  Those kids didn’t do a good job at all. It’s a good thing I didn’t have much cash on me yesterday.

  “… I’m sure there’ll be shrimp, at least. I mean, these people must’ve spent a lot on this event- it only makes sense that they’d get a good variety of food.” Glancing at Cynthia as she stared dreamily out the window, I resisted the urge to giggle at the longing in her reflected eyes. Chemotherapy had really shown her the importance of good food, and now she never stopped thinking about it. Fast food was a thing of the past, and food she used to hate she would try.

  “I hope it’s not just a bunch of finger food and stuff. I want a real lobster. Or maybe some scallops. Did you say that restaurant on Park and 5th had amazing scallops?” Nodding firmly, I kept my eyes on the road while Cynthia rambled on and on about what she expected to be at this party. Nervousness nibbled at my gut, and I gnawed on my inner cheek absently.

  Part of me knew this was a mistake; I knew what I’d be seeing. My mother would be standing there next to some hot, rich asshole that didn’t understand the idea of moderate consumption. She’d play herself up to be so sweet, but the reality was she’d just manipulate her way into his pockets.

  “You’re going to break the wheel if you keep squeezing it like at, Risha.” Blinking as Cynthia’s voice pulled me to the present, I flexed my fingers only to find them stiff. Glancing at her understanding, sweet expression, a weak, guilty smile stretched my lips. “Do you want me to drive?”

  “No. Sorry…” Focusing on the road through narrowed eyes, I shook my head slightly at the offer. “I’m good. I think I’m just nervous because I’ve never met one of my mom’s boyfriends in such a public place before.”

  “No sweat… not that I understand what you’re going through. It must suck ass to know your mom’s a slut even though she’s a nasty, grouchy, two-timing-“

  “I get it, Cynthia- and it does. So can we please drop it for now? I’d rather not walk into this party with my face set in a permanent scowl.” Cutting my friend off, I lessened the pressure on the gas pedal as we came into a snarl of traffic. The throng was moving, slowly, and I rolled along before hitting the brakes.

  “If I’m not going to be the one to upset you about it, someone else will, you know. And they won’t be so nice about it. I’ve seen you fight a few times, Risha, and you can’t tell me you’ll ask them to ‘please drop it’. You’ll punch him or
her in the face until someone manages to pull you off.” My lips twisted at that, and I blinked hard to remember those fights vividly. I’d been in high school, and some pretty boy jock had come after me because my mom slept around, so why wouldn’t I? “Hey, hey… you have every right to be proud of yourself, Risha. You know you could’ve turned out like shit, but you didn’t. No one can take that away from you, especially with a few words.”

  “I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get annoyed when they try. All of this traffic must be for the event, right?” Changing such a cringe-worthy subject was easy, and I scanned the cars in front of me and on my sides with a heavy sigh. When I proposed this plan, I didn’t account for the fact that everyone in the city and beyond would be driving by to catch a glimpse of celebrities.

  Smart move, Risha. Really smart.

  Parking my car a good ways away from the venue, I made sure my door wouldn’t get torn off before slipping out of the driver’s seat. The cars barely moved now, and the occasional angry horn cut through the cold, frosty air. Glancing around, I made my way onto the sidewalk to grab Cynthia’s hand firmly. A ghost tickled the back of my mind- a faint physical memory of when her hands were bony and weak. Now her fingers wrapped around my firmly, and I smiled down at her before we made our way.

  “By the way, I brought my chemo picture in case they try to say we don’t have an invitation.” Cynthia’s low admission sent a slush of relief in my chest, and I nodded as we made our way towards the city’s most lavish theater. “I bet you didn’t think of that, Risha. You’re too busy worrying about what’s going to happen when we get in rather than being denied at the door.”

  “This is why you’re my best friend. You think of things I don’t.” A delicate laughter floated around us, and Cynthia jerked her head from side to side to ruffle her hair. The thin mass was already getting on her nerves, and she swiped it back roughly. Pulling my own curls over my shoulder, I stroked the strands tenderly as I watched her struggle. If someone told me I’d go bald for months and have to regrow my hair, I’d definitely curl into a ball and cry.

  “Is that Martin Callucci? Oh shit-“ My head snapped up at Cnythia’s squeak, and I pursed my lips together tightly to keep from doing the same. Martin Callucci was a major action star, and as he climbed out of a limo I could understand why. His broad shoulders were so much more imposing in real life even from 20 yards away.

  “I’m going to go talk to him.” For the first time I realized where we were, having effortlessly slipped past security. Standing at the edge of the theater entrance, I halted my steps while Cynthia sauntered off. Excitement radiated from her like a rainbow of color shining under the golden lights spilling from the building, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Surprise couldn’t describe what I felt when Cynthia managed to maintain a good conversation with Martin Callucci. I always suspected she had a celebrity crush on him- but then again, who didn’t? He was named Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor and promising upcoming star. Wandering towards the pair slowly, I took in his dimpled chin and strong jaw, the way his messy, blonde hair glinted in the yellow light.

  “-ll be glad to escort you, of course! I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know someone that battled breast cancer will be here. I was afraid it’d be one of those hypocritical events for exposure.” Martin’s voice was deeper than it was on the big screen, and he cast his baby blue eyes on me to smile. He didn’t linger, his gaze settling almost instantly on Cynthia before he held out his arm. “My mother was going to be here, but she wasn’t feeling up to it tonight. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I definitely do.” Taking what he had to offer, Cynthia cast me a quirky glare as I lagged behind the two. “I never had any energy. Most of the time I couldn’t even get out of bed. As helpful as chemo was, it was still a pain in the ass to deal with afterward.”

  Watching the interaction sent a pang through my chest; they were so clearly into each other. Their conversation flew over my head, and I nibbled my bottom lip as we entered the theater through doors propped open. Hot air rushed under my skirt and slid down my arms, and I glanced around the lobby for any sign of my mother.

  Cynthia could handle herself- that much was proven just because she wasn’t a mess of fangirl yet.

  My heart hammered in my chest, nerves settling deep into my belly the longer it took to find my mother. Wandering around, weaving through people I vaguely recognized, my gaze scanned heads until I found that familiar shade of light brown. Taking a glass of wine from a waitress, I couldn’t bring myself to tear my gaze from her even as I took a deep gulp.

  There was no other word but graceful to describe the way my mother aged. She had very few, very fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth when she smiled, and her skin didn’t sag. The only trait of hers that I had inherited was her height, and I licked my lips as my eyes drifted down to what she was wearing. Her dress did her no favors; she was fit, my mother, but like Cynthia she had a slight pouch that was accentuated by her tight garment.

  The pale green color isn’t that bad, though.

  Hers was a dress a woman 20 years younger would pull off; my mother wasn’t overweight, but her body was clearly showing her decline into the elderly column of the charts.

  Sipping my wine as I idled, my gaze shifted to the man she stood next to. He was older than I had expected, closer to my mother’s age than my own. My brows furrowed at that, and I watched enraptured as she touched his broad shoulder to get his attention. Underneath his trimmed beard his smile was tender, and he nodded before she sauntered off towards what I assumed was the bathrooms.

  My heels clicked on the marble floors before I even had a chance to make a real decision, and I shamelessly chugged the rest of my wine. Holding the empty glass in stiff fingers, I took shallow breaths before I found myself close enough to be noticed.

  William- that’s his name. Don’t be an idiot, Risha.

  Forcing a bright smile on my face as my silent scold bounced around my brain, I squared my shoulders to take confident steps towards him. Confusion clouded his hazel eyes, and I could see him trying to figure out if he knew me.

  “What a lovely event.” Way to be awkward… Cringing internally as William nodded, I watched his expression even out as his gaze captured mine. My already frantic heartbeat into overdrive, and around the stem of my glass my fingers trembled slightly. He wasn’t at all what I was expecting, and for a long, pregnant moment an uncomfortable silence blossomed between us.

  “It is, although I wouldn’t say I usually attend something like this. I usually just donate directly.” Humming softly, I cocked my head at how articulate William was; he wasn’t my mother’s usual type, and that notion caused my nerves to inflame. “I’m sorry, but do I know you…?”

  “Marishka, but everyone calls me Risha. No, you don’t, but I know the woman you’re with. I just wanted to meet you.” Answering truthfully was my only defense against making an ass of myself, and William’s brows came together thoughtfully. Glancing around, I made sure my mother wasn’t going to sneak up on me before opening my mouth again. “I had heard she was seeing someone, but she didn’t give me any real details.”

  “Didn’t she, now?” Letting the question linger, William took a sip from his wine glass before his eyes dipped to my empty one. “Would you like more wine, Risha?”

  His expression was unreadable, and I nodded absently as I tried to get through the layers of professionality he displayed. Was that a hint of disappointment? Of annoyance? I can’t tell.

  “Thank you.” Easily taking the glass, I took a stabilizing sip before a faceless waitress placed my discarded cup on her tray and walked off. “I’ll admit, I don’t come to these events either. I just knew Anna would be here, and I wanted to see who she’d been hiding. How long have you two been dating, again?”

  Launching my gentle probe, I ground my molars lightly as my mother’s name passed my lips. I knew people that didn’t even know what their mothers’ names were, and ye
t this was how I referred to mine most of the time. Before me William smiled, as if it was a happy instance for him, and my eyes widened in realization.

  My mother had this poor man wrapped tightly around her finger.

  “Six months or so. She’s really a sweet woman. I’m not surprised she has friends that worry about her.” At what should’ve been a compliment my smile turned tight, and I took another gulp of wine. Within the confines of my skull my inner voice screamed at me to blurt out that my mother was just using him, but the words got caught in my throat. William was easily in his 40s, maybe even older than my mother, so he must know what he was doing.

  Right?

  “Well… I’ll leave you to it, then. It was nice to meet you, William.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heel to scurry away as disgust began to choke me. Weaving through bodies towards the buffet table across the room, I took deep, heaving breaths in a futile attempt to calm myself. An ache spread through my chest, and I reached to rub the spot absently as I searched for Cynthia.

  “What the Hell are you doing, Mom…” Grumbling to myself, I shook my head and blinked hard as I replayed what had just happened. My mother never went for older men that had been rich for long- they had a restraint she couldn’t break. Young and pliable men that had only just broken into the top one percent were her ideal targets; men that couldn’t control their spending and were enamored that this older, beautiful lady was into them.

  But William was nothing like that just from what I could see during our interaction. His suit had been nice, but it was obviously worn before; he didn’t buy it just for this event. He had the air of a businessman about him, and was probably very smart and perceptive.

  He was everything my mother avoided, so why?