On Sunday afternoon, I drive over to my parents’ place.
We’re having steak and baked potatoes on the barbecue. So far most of my cravings have been for fruit and chocolate. But I’ve always had a weak spot for chocolate, so I’m not sure if it’s a pregnancy craving so much as it’s my comfort food and my go-to when I’m stressed. Needless to say, I’ve eaten a lot of chocolate today.
Gerald is sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs, nursing a beer and tossing a Frisbee to Burton, my parents’ ancient golden retriever. “Hey, sis! How’s it going? Did you bring a pie? Is it cherry pie? I love cherry pie.”
I hold up the pie plate. “Sorry, Ger, it’s apple, do you think you’ll survive?”
“I have a feeling I’ll live through the disappointment since apple is my second favorite.” He grabs the Frisbee from Burton and tosses it again.
I take the plate straight into the house so neither Burton nor my brother gets any ideas. It’s happened before, with both of them.
My phone buzzes in my purse. I have messages from Jake wishing me luck. He actually offered to fly back down this weekend for moral support, but I told him it would probably be best for me to share the news on my own first. Explaining the complexities of my relationship with Jake to my parents, while he’s here, is a level of awkward no one needs.
I also have messages from my Seattle Girls—they’ve been incredibly supportive—even when they found out that Jake is my baby daddy. It’s a lot easier now that most of the people I would consider close to Jake and me know what’s going on. And in some ways, I question how different things would have been if I’d allowed us to be something more months ago. But I’d wanted to protect Ryan, which I’m beginning to realize is a bad habit that only seems to cause more conflict instead of less.
I have a message from Paxton sending me good vibes.
Even Ryan has messaged to wish me luck with a series of crossed finger emojis.
He knows what our mother is like. We love her, but she has a very strong opinion on everything.
“Hanna Banana! How’s my favorite daughter!” My dad pulls me in for a hug.
I’m his only daughter, hence he can call me his favorite. “I’m good, Dad. How are you? How’s your forever Saturday treating you?” My dad retired last year, and I think he’s busier now than when he was working full-time.
“Good. Good. Did I tell you I’m taking up stained glass? Your mother used to do it when you were young, so we have all the stuff lying around in the basement. I was cleaning it out and figured I’d give it a shot. See if I’m any good at it.”
“That sounds fun.” For a while, we all got stained glass lamps and night-light covers for our birthdays.
“It probably would be a lot more fun if your mother didn’t take over every single project I start, but I’m getting the hang of it.” He gives me a conspiratorial wink.
I laugh, but I know exactly what he’s talking about. My mother is an expert on basically everything and loves to be “helpful.” Usually, it means she elbows you out of the way and finishes what you started.
“Hanna! Oh good. You’re finally here. Can I get your help in the kitchen with the biscuits? I need you to cut in the butter for me,” Mom calls from the kitchen window.
“Sure, Mom. I’d be happy to.”
I leave my dad and my brother sitting in the backyard and set the pie onto the kitchen counter, far from the edge so Burton can’t knock it off, which has happened before. My mom comes behind me and wraps an apron around my waist. She makes a noise as she ties it into a bow.
“Thanks.” I don’t bother telling her I’m more than capable of tying my own apron. Part of my mother’s shtick is that she will forever be a mother. Being a mom was always what she wanted to do. And she was fully committed to that role when we were growing up.
“Have you been eating too many sweets lately, honey?” she asks in that tone that makes Gerald and me roll our eyes.
“Probably.” I just smile and start cutting the butter into the flour mixture.
“Did I tell you that Delores lost almost fifty pounds on some new diet where you only eat certain foods at certain times of the day? She looks amazing! And she started dating again. Did you know that the Walravens’ son divorced a couple of years ago? They’re having a birthday party next month. You should come and I can introduce you to him.”
“Aren’t the Walravens over eighty? Isn’t their son retirement age?”
“I think he’ll be in his mid-fifties this year. He’s got a great job. I believe he’s the VP of his company, which means he makes excellent money. If you two ended up together, you could consider early retirement.” She scoops the filling out of the potatoes and into a large glass bowl. She’s always been very traditional, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but we have different wants out of life.
“I like my job, Mom.” And I don’t think dating someone while I’m pregnant with another man’s baby will go over very well, with anyone, especially Jake.
“I know you do, honey. I just mean that it would be nice if you didn’t have to run a household all on your own. I’m glad you have your career. It was good for you to have the distraction after what happened with Gordon. You needed somewhere else to put your focus after all that heartbreak.” She pats my shoulder as she leans over it. “Make sure the dough is in pea-size bits before you start rolling it out. And only half an inch thick or they’ll be too doughy.” She tosses in a handful of cheese and chives. “I’m sure Ryan and Queenie will be announcing a baby soon, don’t you think?”
“They’ve been married for three and a half months, Mom.”
“Ryan’s already thirty, though. And Queenie doesn’t have to work, so it’s not as though they need to worry about financial stability, which is usually one of the reasons so many people put it off. That’s what happened with you and Gordon. You were both so absorbed in your careers you waited too long. I don’t want the same thing to happen with Ryan. He’ll make such a wonderful father.” She sighs and starts slicing a cucumber for the salad. “I can’t wait to be a grandmother. It’ll be nice to have little babies around again. And you’ll be such a wonderful auntie.”
I bite back the nasty retort sitting on my tongue like a bitter pill. These pregnancy hormones are making me edgy and prone to snippiness. And stupid tears. It’s like being a teenager all over again, minus the perky boobs.
I can’t imagine a better segue than this. Ideally, I’d like to tell my parents at the same time, but my dad’s reaction to everything is pretty much the same: either that’s nice or that’s too bad. I love him, but he’s the most passive man on the face of the earth.
Well, here goes nothing.
I set the pastry blender down and wipe my hands on my apron. “Actually, you’re going to be a grandmother by early next year.”
She stops what she’s doing. “Is Queenie pregnant already? Why didn’t Ryan tell me?” She reaches for her phone, which is sitting on the window ledge.
I put my hand out to stop her. “Queenie’s not pregnant, Mom.”
“Oh my heavens.” She makes the sign of the cross. “Please tell me Gerald hasn’t gotten someone pregnant.”
“Probably pretty unlikely since the only women who can tolerate him for more than half an hour are related to him,” I mumble and instantly regret it.
“That’s not nice, Hanna. You know it’s not your brother’s fault he is the way he is.”
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.” I need to get a handle on the mean vibe I’m throwing out there. Gerald is just Gerald. And we love him no matter what.
“So what is this you’re talking about? Are you thinking of adopting? Or maybe fostering? Do they allow single women to do that?” This is what my mother does: ask seven million questions and never let you answer one before the next one pops out of her mouth.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt, needing to get it out already.
For once in her life, she doesn’t have a cheeky response. At least not right away.
It takes about three seconds before her lips pull together as though she’s sucked on a lemon. “That’s not something you should joke about, Hanna.”
“It’s not a joke. I’m fifteen weeks.” I fight to keep my cool.
“How in the world is that even possible at your age?” She blinks several times in a row.
“Lots of women have babies well into their forties these days, Mom.” Although forty-six is definitely on the late side. I try my best to be calm and patient, but I’m starting to feel like it would have been a lot better to have someone on my side here with me. Even Paxton would have been a good buffer. Anyone outside of family members to force my mother to think before she speaks.
“Just because other women do doesn’t mean you should! Is it even safe with your history? You know what happened with little Tammy Van Wallen’s baby and she was only thirty-six, a full decade younger than you!”
“There was a history of chromosomal abnormalities in her family.” I could really use a glass of water and maybe a chair.
“Why would you put yourself at risk like this, Hanna? Have you forgotten what happened the last time? I can’t see you go through that again. It was devastating for all of us! Whose baby is it even? Are you and Gordon getting back together? After everything that happened? Why would you do that without even telling me about it?” Her hand goes to her chest, as if the idea that I would make this kind of decision without her is mortally wounding.
I cross over to the kitchen table and take a seat. My legs feel unsteady, and my throat grows tight. “I’m aware of the risks. And yes, I’ve seen my doctor. I’ve had all the tests, and so far the blood work and the ultrasound show that the baby is healthy. And no, it wasn’t Gordon.”
“How long have you known, and why didn’t you tell me until now? And who in the world is the father? I didn’t even realize you were dating anyone!” She crosses her arms, her hurt clear on her face.
This isn’t how I expected her to react. I assumed, maybe naively, that I would have her full support. So this aggressive inquisition is both frustrating and unnerving. This isn’t about her, and yet, somehow she manages to make it that way. “I’ve only known for a little while, and I thought it would be best to tell you in person rather than over the phone.”
She breathes heavily through her nose. “I would have gone with you to the doctor. You still haven’t told me who the father is.”
“Jake is the father.” I feel like I’m holding my breath, waiting for the axe to fall.
“Jake?” She makes the lemon-suck face again. “Is he someone you met at work?”
“No, Mom.” I could not be any less excited to explain this. “Jake, Queenie’s dad.”
Her eyes go wide and she blinks. And blinks again. “You’re pregnant with Ryan’s father-in-law’s child?”
“It was an accident.” I don’t know why I say this. It doesn’t matter that it was unintentional. It’s happening. I’m having a baby with Jake. End of story.
“An accident? I can’t believe you would do something so thoughtless! Poor Ryan. How is he going to handle this?” She presses her hand to her heart again and gives me the disappointed look I got three decades ago when I had to tell her I was pregnant the first time. “Did you think about the position you’re putting him in by doing this? My poor baby, I can’t even imagine how he feels.”
“He already knows.” My blood feels like it’s boiling. I know I need to calm down. This much stress isn’t good for me, or the baby, but my mom’s lack of support and three decades of baggage are a lot to manage. So I burst like a dam.
“And newsflash, Mom: Ryan is not your baby! He was mine. I carried him in my belly. I gave birth to him. He’s my son. And I know you like to live in a world that revolves around you and all the fantastic things you did for him and how you’re the reason he’s so goddamn successful, but I think you’re forgetting who it was who drove him to all of his hockey practices as a kid. I’m the one who woke up at five on Saturday mornings and took him to ice time. I went to all of his games. I was there every step of the way, too.” I drive home the point by stabbing the counter with my finger.
“In fact, he took his first steps with me, not you, because you had book club with your friends. But I never told you because I didn’t want you to be upset that you missed it, even though I missed a million of his firsts and you told me about every single damn one! So you can cut the shit and the poor Ryan, poor you garbage. I don’t need you to tell me about all the things that can go wrong. I’m more than fucking aware.” I know there’s going to be fallout after this, but she needs to see this isn’t about Ryan.
My dad bursts into the house, followed by Gerald. “What in tarnation is going on here?”
“Go ahead, Hanna, tell your father what you’ve done.” My mother tips her chin up and looks down her nose at me.
“And rob you of the satisfaction? How could I?” I sneer.
She keeps her glare locked on me. “Hanna’s pregnant. Again.”
“Holy shitballs!” Gerald says. “For real? Like you’re knocked up? With a baby?”
“Gerald.” My dad raises a hand to stop him and gives me a bright, somewhat naïve smile. “Is this true, Hanna Banana? Are we finally gonna be grandparents like we always wanted?”
Leave it to my dad to try to turn it around when my mom and I are in the middle of a fight.
I’m exhausted from more than a quarter century of placating. “I already made you grandparents. Three decades ago.” I push out of the chair and head for the door. But I only make it a couple of steps before the world turns black.
_______________
MY PARENTS TAKE me to urgent care, and I message Paxton to meet us there, because I honestly can’t handle any more of my mother’s lectures or her tendency to steamroll and undermine my decisions. Especially since my blood pressure is a lot higher than they like.
Urgent care ends up calling Dr. Tumbler, and I’m put on blood pressure medication right away. And I have an appointment with her the following day.
The whole thing scares the crap out of me. I’m very glad Paxton is staying the night, because the alternative is staying at my parents’, and that’s where I went the last time I had complications. Gordon had been out of town for work, and I hadn’t wanted to stay in my house alone while I dealt with the loss.
“Your mother is damn lucky I was too worried about you to rip into her.” Paxton grips the steering wheel. She’s trying to keep it together, but I think she’s as rattled as I am.
“I knew the Jake part was going to be a thing, but I didn’t expect her to react quite so…badly.” It was a shock, one I obviously didn’t need.
“No offense, I love you, and I can also appreciate your mother, because I know her heart is usually in the right place, but she needs to get a damn fucking clue. You’re a self-sufficient adult. She had no right to say any of the stuff she did.”
“I know.” I scrub a hand over my face. “I should have let Jake come with me when I told them. Or maybe it would have been worse. I don’t know.”
We pull into my driveway. “I can’t see Jake letting any of that shit fly. And honestly, Hanna, you’ve been holding onto all of this for a long time. The only thing your mother should have been was supportive. And she wasn’t. Not at all.” She inhales a deep breath through her nose and exhales a huff. “I need to calm down. Me being this fired up can’t be good for you.”
“Thank you for being such a good friend and being on my side.”
She reaches across the center console and squeezes my hand. “I’m always going to be here for you, Han. You know that.”
“I do.” In all the years we’ve been friends, she’s never let me down. This kind of friendship is rare, and I love her dearly.
She helps me inside, and I don’t fight her on the mother-bird hovering.
Once I’m settled on the couch, she makes me a tea and pulls a box of cookies out of the cupboard. I didn’t have dinner, and I had a hard time stomaching lunch,
so I blamed my fainting on low blood sugar. Which wasn’t a lie. But the raised blood pressure was, and continues to be, an issue.
“I think I have to tell work I’m pregnant,” I announce.
Paxton takes the cushion at the other end of the couch. “I know you wanted to wait a little longer, but it might be a good idea. Do you think you should try to reduce your hours? Lower your stress levels?”
“I can’t reduce my hours. Not when I’m being considered for that promotion.” And I need this one thing to hold onto, in case the worst happens.
Pax sips her tea, then lowers her mug. “Can I say something?”
“Of course. Your blunt honesty is my favorite thing about you.”
She snorts. “You should probably wait until after I say what I’m going to say before you commit to that statement.” She sets her mug onto the coffee table. “Do you still want this promotion?”
“I’ve worked so hard for this, and it comes with a pretty substantial raise, the kind that I’m going to need with a baby on the way,” I tell her.
“Okay. I understand not wanting to walk away from that, and I know how hard you’ve worked. But maybe you need to reevaluate where this falls on the priority list.”
“I don’t want to give it up just because I’m pregnant.” And after tonight, I’m reasonably shaken about how the next few months are going to play out.
“I get that. But, provided things go well—” She motions to the very small bump starting to make itself known under my shirt. “Do you really want a job where you take on more responsibility when you’ll have an infant to care for?”
“Say everything goes smoothly, a better salary means I’ll be able to put more money away for his education.” And I’ll have a better pension. All things that seem important for safeguarding the future. I rub my belly, thinking about what JJ might look like, be like, in the years to come. Will he have his dad’s size? Will he be athletic? Artistic? Will he be soft and kind like King and Jake? Will he be determined like me?
A KISS FOR A KISS Page 17
