A Sister's Promise (Promises)

by Lenfestey, Karen

  “When my wife told me she was pregnant.” He grinned. Then he forked the pale green lettuce sprinkled with orange cheese that was supposed to pass for a salad.

  “Did you always want to have children?”

  “For us, it wasn’t a question of whether or not we would have children, it was just a matter of how many.”

  She bit into her flavorless cafeteria-issued hamburger. “Weren’t you scared, though, that maybe you wouldn’t be any good at it?”

  Walking to the nearby refrigerator, he reached in to retrieve a Rubbermaid container. “Sure. Anyone who takes parenting seriously is scared. Fortunately I have the script of my mother’s voice running in my head.”

  “You’re lucky.” Kate’s script was missing too many pages.

  Once he sat back down, he opened up the plastic lid and poured homemade salsa on his hamburger. “But even then there are things I want to do differently with my kids.”

  “Like what?” He offered Kate some salsa, but she shook her head, knowing from past experience it would numb her tongue.

  “When I was young, sometimes my father would keep me home from school to help in the fields.”

  It seemed like fathers could be especially hard on their sons. The strained relationship with his own dad was probably why Mitch agreed so easily not to have children.

  Antonio used the bun to smear the red and green mixture onto the patty. “I never keep my kids home from school unless they are sick because education is what will save them from the fields. I want them to not only graduate high school, but go to college.”

  “That’s admirable.”

  “But when you deviate from the script, you can’t be sure of the results. I worry sometimes that I’m pushing them too hard. My oldest will skip playing soccer with his friends in order to do homework for four or five hours. I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.” Kate knew Antonio was especially proud of his son for being accepted on a scholarship to a prep school in a nearby city. “Then there’s my middle child. She maintains a B average, but I suspect that she could do better. Sometimes I think she knows she can’t compete with her brother’s natural abilities, so she does just enough to keep me off of her back.”

  Kate’s counselor instincts kicked in. “You’re doing a great job with them.”

  He waved away the compliment. “What surprises me the most is how much of their personality was just there when they were born. Even as a toddler, my son would spend a great deal of time meticulously building towers out of blocks when other boys his age just wanted to knock them down. And my youngest daughter was such an easy baby. Hardly ever cried. If her pacifier fell out of her mouth and she couldn’t reach it, she would just pick up her teddy bear and suck on its nose instead.”

  The last time his wife brought their three year old in to the office, she’d greeted all of them with a kiss on the cheek. Kate thought she was adorable—until the little girl spilled a stack of 200 alphabetized transcripts onto the floor.

  Antonio took a drink of Coke. “She’s very musical, too. She loves to dance and swing her bottom from side to side whenever my mariachi band plays for a quinceanera.” He said he could hardly believe he would be playing for his middle child’s fifteenth birthday celebration next spring, even though his daughter had picked out the white gown and tiara months ago. They both smiled and ate silently for a few minutes before Antonio asked her how many years she spent in college. His expression fell when she said six.

  She wiped ketchup from the corner of her mouth. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve been thinking that maybe I’d like to do what you do. But I’m not sure. I didn’t realize it took so long.”

  “Now that you mention it, I think you’d make a great counselor. Kids like to talk to you and you have good instincts about when someone’s really in trouble.”

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely. Plus you’re bilingual. That’s a real asset. You could get a job anywhere.” In fact, Kate wouldn’t want to be up against him at a job interview. Not only did he speak two languages, but he was a male in a female-dominated field. Some schools felt it important to have an equal representation of the genders in the guidance department. Somehow that seemed more of a priority than hiring a woman to balance out the male-dominated administration.

  “But I don’t want to leave Foxworth. This is where all of my family lives,” Antonio explained.

  “Well, if there were an opening, I’m sure you’d get it. I’m not planning on leaving any time soon, but Rhonda might retire in a few years.”

  “I’m just fantasizing. The truth is I should be saving money for my children’s college tuition. Not spending it on myself. Once you have kids it’s not about you any more. . . .”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kate sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair rubbing her thumb over graffiti carved into the library table. Through the wall she heard the brass section of the band tuning up for their after-school practice. Muffling a yawn, she wished the curriculum council meeting would end soon.

  After wading through the long agenda, Mr. Mohr asked if there was any new business.

  “Yes,” a raspy female voice said. The band launched into the school’s fight song. “I move that students no longer be allowed to miss class to attend counseling groups.”

  Kate’s head snapped up and she made eye contact with the speaker, Mrs. B. Kate could barely breathe. This was an unforeseen attack. Mrs. B’s always were.

  “What exactly are your concerns?” Mr. Mohr asked.

  Kate tried to listen while worrying about her defense.

  Mrs. B stood up. “Students are only in my class for fifty minutes a day and I have a hard time covering the state standards as it is. When a student misses an entire lesson because they are in the guidance office, doing who knows what, it hinders the learning process.”

  “Rhonda, Kate, what do you have to say to that?” Mr. Mohr asked.

  Kate hoped Rhonda would rally to her side, but instead the guidance director took a sip of coffee. Public speaking, especially when she hadn’t prepared in advance, made Kate nervous.

  Rhonda put down her mug. “Right now I’m not running any groups, so I will yield the floor to Kate.”

  Kate rose and noticed most people’s eyes darting toward the wall clock. She couldn’t put together a coherent thought. With a throat so dry she could barely get the words out, she began. “The group I run is a career exploration group. The kids really get a lot out of it.” Why couldn’t she come up with something more eloquent or persuasive?

  Mrs. B looked directly at Mr. Mohr, ignoring Kate. “I’m not saying that groups have no value. I’m just saying kids shouldn’t miss my class for them.”

  Kate wanted to laugh at the way Mrs. B pretended that this wasn’t personal. If Rhonda were running groups, Mrs. B wouldn’t have brought this up at curriculum council. If she really had a concern, she would talk to Rhonda privately.

  Mrs. B wagged a pointed finger in the air. “We need to remember that our job is to educate kids, not hold their hands and give them an excuse to ditch class. Maybe groups should meet after school.”

  Shaking her head, Kate mumbled, “Nobody will come.” Realizing that made it sound like kids weren’t really interested in the group, she added, “Some have band or sports practice or don’t have a ride home.”

  Fortunately Mr. Mohr took control and said, “It’s late. I will talk to department heads individually to determine how much this is affecting your classes. And I’ll talk to Kate to determine if there isn’t a better way to schedule groups. For now let’s adjourn.”

  Kate’s hands trembled as she gathered her papers.

  She and Rhonda walked in silence back to the dark guidance office. Rhonda turned on the too-bright fluorescent lights, which dominated the windowless reception area. Kate followed her into her private office, made more hospitable by a brass desk lamp and wicker chairs she had brought from home. Rhonda reached behind the artificial fern on her file cabin
et for a box of matches. In defiance to the fire code, she lit a candle, which emitted a vanilla scent. Usually, Kate found it soothing. But not today.

  She felt her blood pressure soar as she closed the door. “I can’t believe the nerve of that woman!”

  Rhonda sat at her desk, looking sympathetic.

  “Research has shown that students who have career goals do better in school,” Kate continued. “Plus parents want us to help their kids figure out what they want to do so they don’t waste their money on college tuition for a kid who will change their major a million times.” Once she started talking, her words and passion flowed like an open faucet. “And I always tell the students to make sure they ask for the assignment they missed. It’s not my fault if they don’t.”

  “You don’t have to convince me,” Rhonda said. “I’m on your side.”

  Kate nodded her head. “Why didn’t I say this at curriculum council? I just hate that I froze like that.” It occurred to her that this character flaw was just one more piece of a genetic code that she didn’t want to pass on to a child.

  “You’ll get better. With age comes confidence,” Rhonda offered.

  Kate shook her head. She was thirty-five. How much longer did she have to wait?

  # # #

  Knowing that this was not going to work, Kate’s heart felt heavy as she knocked on the door to Michelle’s apartment. The teachers had told Kate the quality of Michelle’s assignments had dropped at least one letter grade since she no longer heard any of the lectures or participated in class activities. Michelle essentially had to teach herself in between Graciella’s feedings and diaper changes. It was too much to expect, even for Michelle.

  When Michelle opened the door, Kate smiled and handed her a stack of papers. “How’s it going?”

  “OK, I guess. I know I’m falling behind. The only way I can find the time to read my textbooks is if I put in a Baby Einstein DVD to occupy Graciella. And I hate to do that.”

  Nodding, Kate looked around the apartment that was just one of many bedrooms in a large Victorian house on Main Street. She noticed a crack in the plaster wall, which sprawled downward like the roots of a tree. With the addition of central air and quite a bit of restoration work, the place would have made a beautiful bed and breakfast. But potential meant nothing without follow-through.

  Michelle gestured toward two turquoise 1950’s diner-style chairs probably purchased at the Salvation Army. “Have a seat. Want to hold Gracie?”

  Despite the memory of Sammy’s spit-up on her shirt, Kate was unable to think of a tactful way to refuse the pink bundle. The faded hardwood floors creaked as Michelle walked to the crib to retrieve the baby. Kate placed her hands under Graciella’s armpits and felt unsure how to maneuver the baby into a better position. They stared at each other. A moment later she laid the baby back against her bent arm and cradled her. Graciella seemed so much lighter and more delicate than Sammy.

  Michelle sat on the remaining chair.

  Kate gestured with her chin to the infant whose eyelids were starting to droop. “Any luck finding someone to watch her?”

  “No. I’m not even sure how I’m going to be able to pay the rent this month, let alone a babysitter. I need to find a job. I think I’m going to have to forget about school.”

  “Michelle, don’t give up. I know it’s hard, but there has to be a way.” Kate wanted her to succeed so badly, she considered paying the rent herself. That only solved the problem for thirty more days, though. Her professors would have told her she couldn’t solve this for Michelle; she must empower Michelle to fix her own problems. Maybe she did her a disservice by letting her take college-prep classes, she thought. If she were studying a trade at the career center at least she could walk out of high school with better than minimum wage earning potential. “Have you heard from Frank?”

  “Actually he stopped by the other day to see Gracie.”

  Kate’s jaw tightened.

  Michelle’s emerald eyes started to water. “He said he misses us.”

  “Do you think you two can work things out?”

  Michelle sighed. “I don’t know. He’s a good guy, Mrs. Hopper. He really is. But things are just so difficult.”

  Kate nodded, encouraging her to open up. Kate looked down at Graciella who had fallen asleep in her arms, her mouth forming the tiniest little “O”.

  “Maybe you could help us.”

  “How?”

  “Just be here and help us figure things out.”

  Kate’s first instinct was to say “no”. She definitely was not a marriage counselor. Plus she didn’t even like the guy.

  She took a deep breath. Michelle was doing well academically until he left her. Perhaps the quickest way to get her back in school was for her to reconcile with the jerk. “Do you think Frank would be interested in working things out?”

  Michelle bopped her head up and down like a child who was just asked if she wanted a cookie. “I told you he’s a good guy. He feels terrible about leaving us.”

  Yeah, right. He still left, though, didn’t he? Would Mitch leave Kate if she had a baby? She had never considered this before. Their marriage was so strong. But perhaps that was because they agreed on no kids and so far they hadn’t deviated from the plan.

  “How would he feel about me being a part of things?” Not too many guys liked to reveal their true feelings to counselors. And Crew Cut Man struck Kate as the strong, silent type.

  “If it could help get us back together, I think he would try.”

  Oh, yes. The good ‘ole try. Kate figured out a while ago that when a student said they would try to do better, it was a cop-out. If they were failing algebra and she called them into her office, they promised to try harder. If they kept getting into fights during lunch they would try to avoid conflict. Somewhere along the way, kids figured out which words they could say to satisfy adults and just like “sorry”, “try” was definitely one of them. Because what else could anyone ask for?

  So against Kate’s better judgment, she was going to try and patch things up between Michelle and Crew Cut Man. All because of a baby. The baby Kate was surprised that she didn’t want to hand back to her mother just yet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  To Kate it seemed too quiet. All she heard was the shower. Mitch used to hum while he was getting ready in the mornings, but lately he had been rather stoic. Worry pressed at the back of her skull.

  Joely plopped down on the couch in her sun-lit apartment. “Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  It was still hard for Kate to wrap her mind around the concept of wanting a baby. Did she want a boy or a girl? “Um. . . I don’t know.”

  “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. You know I want to be there in the delivery room, don’t you?” Before Kate could answer, Joely said, “I just heard that people are posting videos of childbirth on YouTube. Maybe you should watch them, to see what to expect.”

  Kate knew there was no way she would ever want to see that. It was a shame women were no longer knocked unconscious for deliveries.

  Joely stood up. “Let me show you what I picked up for you.” She went to her bedroom and returned with two grocery bags. She poured the pastel colored contents onto the rug. “Abina and I hit the mother lode of garage sales the other day. They said I could have all the baby clothes I could fit into a bag for five dollars.”

  The shower stopped. A minute later Kate imagined Mitch standing in front of the mirror, shaving.

  Joely kneeled on the floor and rummaged through the clothes. “I picked out some things in pink and blue, but mostly I tried to get gender-neutral colors.” She held up a yellow onesie with a giraffe embroidered on the chest. “Isn’t this cute?”

  Kate nodded. She might have been easing into the idea of having a baby, but when Joely pushed like this, it made her resistant. “Joely, I think you’re going a little overboard here. You should wait before you buy any more clothes.”

  “I know. I know. It’s just that garage sal
es are full of baby stuff. And they’re at really good prices, too. Do you want me to pick up a stroller or anything the next time?”

  Before Kate could answer, Mitch walked in, his shiny black hair dripping on his Purdue sweatshirt. He looked at the laundry pile. “What’s all this?”

  “Nothing,” Kate heard herself say, as if she were a guilt-ridden child. “Joely was just showing me her latest garage sale finds.”

  Mitch stood there, surveying the scene. “No offense, Joely, but I think that stuff is too small for you.”

  Joely held up footie pajamas with little green frogs all over them. “I couldn’t resist. You’ll be thanking me when the time comes.”

  Kate sucked in her breath.

  “Joely, I would appreciate it if you stayed out of Kate’s and my business. We’re not going to have a kid. And we’re definitely not going to have one because you manipulated Kate into saying something she didn’t mean.”

  Joely looked up at Mitch. “I did not manipulate her.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said. “That’s what you do best.”

  Joely huffed. “I know my sister and she is meant to be a mother.”

  Mitch stared back at Joely. “Well, she’s my wife and she doesn’t feel that way.”

  Kate’s gut started to hurt. She didn’t know whose defense she should jump to.

  Putting down the tiny pajamas, Joely rose to her feet. She and Mitch stood eye-to-eye. “I’m telling you, Kate is going to regret it some day if she doesn’t have a child of her own. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

  Kate found it hard to breathe.

  Mitch shook his head. “You’re trying to create doubt where there is none. See—this is why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You don’t have a boyfriend because guys don’t like to be manipulated.”

  Joely tightened her jaw. “You can’t stand it that Kate and I are so close. That I know her better than you do.”

  “The fact is, I’m married to her and you don’t get a vote in this.”