Mia had stopped crying and was sniffling quietly into her fifteenth Kleenex. “That was very kind of you.”
He shrugged. “I’m afraid I know more than I care to about dealing with crazy family dynamics. You don’t need to say another word.” He winked and Mia had to fight the urge to throw herself into his arms in gratitude.
“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly.
She was brought with a shock back to her present, very unromantic circumstance. “I’m doing pretty well, I suppose. This may sound strange, but I try not to think about it too much.”
Adam raised one eyebrow. “Isn’t it kind of hard to forget?” He nodded toward her belly. “You’re starting to get a hump.”
Mia tilted her head to one side. “I hope you mean a ‘bump.’ A hump is typically attributed to a camel. A bump is the acceptable term for cute, beginning pregnancy. Think Angelina, not desert creature.”
By the end of her admonition, Adam’s cheeks had deepened to blotches of scarlet. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t really know much about this kind of thing.”
Mia sighed. “Tell me about it.” She blotted her eyes with a fresh tissue and looked to Adam for appraisal. “I think I’m ready to face the meat department again. How do I look? Do I have raccoon-mascara eyes?”
One side of his mouth pulled into a shy smile. “I think you look great. A little puffy, but nothing that would scare away customers or anything.”
Mia sighed. “Adam, in general, you should avoid using the adjective ‘puffy’ when describing a woman’s appearance for her.”
He cringed. “Sorry. I seem to have a hard time lying to you, even when it might not be a bad idea.” He cleared his throat and looked at her face anew, wrinkling his brow in concentration. “Take two. Mia, I think you look great. In fact,” he looked intently into her eyes, “your eyes are gray right now. They were blue but now they’re gray.”
Mia looked down at her wad of Kleenexes. “They change when I’m angry. Or when I’ve been hysterical. Or when I’m swimming.”
Adam laughed. “I just feel like I’m going to sink like dead weight when I’m swimming. Nifty changing-eye-color phenomenon seems a lot more interesting.” He offered her his hand for help up. She took it and concentrated on smoothing her dromedary rise from the couch. “I’ll wrap up your fillets while you finish your shopping.” He held the office door open for her.
“Meet you at the front.” Mia smiled weakly as she moved toward the frozen foods section and a pint of Eli’s premium chocolate ice cream, acceptable only with chunks of semisweet Godiva. “Thank you, Adam,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
“My pleasure,” he said. She watched him take long strides as he walked away.
12
Estimated Time of Departure
“I can’t believe you let her come.” Frankie’s eyes were wide with anxiety. “I don’t know your mother very well, but I can’t see her getting into yoga.”
Mia shook her head, eyes trained on Babs, who was tiptoeing across the studio with her borrowed mat and a towel. “She insisted,” Mia said, her voice flat with resignation and exhaustion after a long day at work. “Said she’d always wanted to try the yoga class on the ship but it conflicted with Rock ’n’ Roll Reunion water aerobics.”
The ensemble Babs had chosen to wear caused a ripple of raised eyebrows and double takes, even among the more austere class members. Her tank top was well fitted to a trim and surgically enhanced upper body. The word SASSY twirled in gold sequins across the chest and sprayed outward in a burst of gold embroidery. Mia felt deep gratitude for having successfully dissuaded her mother from the matching Lycra shorts (this time SASSY adorning her rear) and encouraged her instead to borrow a pair of black cotton capris.
“Excuse me … sorry,” Babs whispered loudly to each person she passed on her way back to Mia and Frankie. The class had not yet begun but, taking her cue from the Enya CD Delia had playing, Babs had lowered her voice to a nearly appropriate volume.
“I’m so excited!” she whispered to the girls as she unrolled her mat. “My friend Jeannie loves yoga. She says there’s nothing better to calm the body and the mind.” Babs looked over her shoulder and leaned in conspiratorially. “As long as you don’t get sucked into the hippie mystic rot.” She raised her eyebrows in warning. “It can be very New Age.”
Frankie listened with her mouth opened slightly, not daring to look at Mia. “I hope you like it, Mrs. Rathbun. It’s not for everyone, but—”
“Oh, Frankie dear, I’m going to love it. I just know it. And you are such a sweet girl.” She shook her head slowly, face serious and pondering. “Mia is very blessed to have such a lovely friend, even if you do such confusing things to your pretty hair.” She patted Frankie’s hand and smiled.
To Mia’s consternation Frankie smiled right back.
Mia cleared her throat. “Mother, class is about to start. We should be quiet now while everyone centers their thoughts.”
Babs crossed her legs in half lotus, taking her cue from Frankie’s perfect posture. “Center my thoughts. Gotcha.” She closed her eyes and rested her hands on folded knees.
Frankie glanced at Mia, who made a point to roll her eyes far back into her head. Frankie shot her a disapproving glance. “Be nice,” she mouthed to her friend before closing her own eyes and waiting for class to begin.
Another falls to the charms of Babs, Mia mused, eyes closed and cynicism dripping from her toes. Her mind clicked through snapshots of friend after friend who had become enamored with Babs over the years, refusing to believe Mia that beneath the woman’s engaging public image lay a self-congratulatory, intolerant woman who cared more for the state of her acrylics than that of her only daughter.
After a few moments Delia’s voice cut smoothly through the silence. “Welcome,” she said in a cocoa-butter voice. “Today is a beautiful spring day and I’m happy you’re sharing part of it with me.” She turned to Babs, hands open. “We have a visitor with us.”
Babs turned to wave excitedly at the other class members. “Hi, everyone! I’m Barbara, Mia’s mother.” The class offered a subdued greeting and Mia tried to remain peaceful. “It’s my first attempt, so don’t give me a hard time if I’m not as bendy as the rest of you.” Babs’s laughter was joined by most of the class, though there were several serious yoga practitioners who clearly did not appreciate this frivolous disruption.
“We’re glad to have you join us, Barbara,” Delia said. Her eyes showed a patience and kindness Mia did not feel. “As we move through our poses, please take care to listen to your body.”
Mia cringed, sure Babs was brewing a smart remark about listening to her body after menopause, one of her more treasured conversation topics. But Delia brought everyone to a standing position at the top of their mats and the class began.
For the first half hour Babs was remarkably well behaved. Mia watched out of the corner of her eye as she attempted her first full lunge, twisted lunge, side angle stretch. Her mother did begin to sweat through her sequins and looked genuinely baffled when Tom, a heavyset man at the back, lost his battle with pent-up flatulence. Mia shot Babs a warning look in the mirror. Babs bit her cheek and Mia could see Frankie’s shoulders shake slightly in laughter, but the moment passed without an outburst, which Mia saw as a sign of great encouragement.
It was the balance pose that provoked the downward spiral.
“From our mountain pose,” Delia intoned, “take your time to lift one foot from your mat, knee at a right angle to the floor, and come into stork.”
Babs obeyed and pulled one leg up, bent at the knee, foot flexed, body wobbling.
Delia took note and addressed the class. “Remember, balance poses take practice, so if this is where you need to stay for today, listen to your body and know your limits.”
Babs pursed
her lips and muttered something under her breath about the noises her body was making presently. She kept her leg up, face screwed in concentration.
“When you’re ready,” Delia said, “move your arms out to the sides of your body, keeping your arms straight and the energy flowing from one side of your body to the other.”
Babs snorted.
“And now,” Delia continued, “push your raised foot behind you, keeping your knee always lifted, tilting your upper body toward the front of the room and straightening your leg toward the door at the back.”
Mia obeyed Delia’s instructions but struggled with her balance, mostly because of the wild thrashings occurring to her right.
“Mother,” she hissed, “just stay in stork.”
“Forget it,” Babs hissed back. “I can do this.”
She bore an uncanny resemblance to an inebriated Wonder Woman, arms outstretched, body yearning to be parallel with the floor, leg flopping back and forth behind her torso. The sequins merely added strength to the comparison.
“Three more deep breaths here,” Delia said. She glanced at Babs, and Mia thought she saw the usually inscrutable face blanch, but Delia recovered quickly and moved her eyes around the room once more. “All right,” she said. “Slowly come out of the pose and rest a moment, allowing your body a few breaths-worth of recovery.”
Babs lowered herself with a quiet groan to her mat and lay on her back. She closed her eyes and breathed like a sprinter just finishing a wicked two-hundred-meter dash.
Mia tiptoed over to Babs and hovered over her heaving frame. “Are you all right?”
“Mmm,” she said, never opening her eyes. “Resting.”
Frankie looked on with concern. Mia shrugged and returned to her mat.
Delia cleared her throat. “And now the other side.”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding,” Babs said, full voice and making no attempt to mask her contempt.
Delia laughed softly. “Again, I want to remind everyone that yoga practice is very individualized. What feels good one day, one hour, on one side may not for the opposite. We must listen to our bodies and respond to what they say to us.”
Mia saw Babs clench her jaw and rise slowly to her feet. “Sometimes what our bodies say can’t be trusted,” she whispered to her daughter. “If I depended only on what this old thing said to me,” she made a sweeping motion to her body, “I’d never have had the courage to go through with my implants.”
Mia stared at her mother in disbelief, watching her shift to the other foot and begin the loud and obnoxious process of forcing her body into warrior three. It took a lot of coaxing, grunting, and no small bit of theatrics to get there, but Babs made it and looked triumphantly in the mirror. Frankie smiled encouragingly. Mia held onto the pose two extra breaths, out of spite, despite Delia’s warning glance, and in an act of defiance to her ankles, which would make her pay for her stubbornness for several days.
On their way back to the apartment after yoga class, Mia and Babs made a stop at Green, Mia’s favorite beverage joint. The mingling scents of tea leaves, citrus, and freshly cut grass descended on the women as they entered the shop and approached the front counter.
“Their grass-based drinks are all amazing,” Mia said. She turned to her mother, who was perusing the chalkboard menus with unveiled horror.
“How about something less earthy?” she asked. Her eyes drifted to the bottom corner of the menu. “What’s in the smoothies?”
The girl behind the counter looked up from a dog-eared copy of A Room of One’s Own that she closed and tucked beside the register. “Organic honey, diffusion of wheatgrass and lemongrass, organic strawberries, organic Costa Rican mango, and organic banana. Dairy free, gluten free.”
Babs wrinkled her nose. “I guess I’ll try that.” She sighed and spoke under her breath as the girl left to concoct the drink. “Mia, have I taught you nothing about fruit drinks? Remember the real smoothies we drank all across the Caribbean the last time you cruised with me?”
“I do remember, Mother,” Mia said, eyes trained on the menu. “And now that I’m older and wiser, I shudder to think of the pesticides we were pumping into our unsuspecting bodies.”
Babs snorted. “Haven’t killed me yet.” She scanned the room. “I hope they have sugar packets.”
After paying for Babs’s smoothie and Mia’s celery-apple-carrot juice, the two left the shop and wandered through Millennium Park. The sun seemed to have gathered its wits about it after a long and tiresome winter; it blanketed treetops and budding tulips with full-strength rays. Lake Michigan shone in the distance, having traded whitecaps for the glitter of sun-painted diamonds on the tops of its chilly waves. Mia had to sidestep a happy bevy of pigeons who danced in one of the few remaining sidewalk puddles.
Babs lifted her face to the sky. “Lovely day to be at sea.”
Mia perked up. “So,” she offered, trying to keep her tone casual, “have you decided when you’ll head back to the ship?”
Babs took a long draw of her smoothie. She’d dumped roughly a cup of sugar into it before leaving the shop, ignoring the disgust registering on the Virginia Woolf reader when she’d emptied the wicker basket of sugar packets. “I think I’ll stay on land awhile. At least until my grandbaby is born.”
Mia’s heart skipped a beat and she felt an instant surge of adrenaline. “But that’s not until the end of September. It’s May.”
“I know. Won’t it be fun?” Babs scrunched her nose at Mia and gave her a side hug. “Think of all the time we’ll get to spend together.”
“Mother, I think we should talk about this,” Mia said. The brightness of the sun, so welcome moments ago, was tapping an insistent finger on her skull with the beginnings of a headache. “My apartment really isn’t that big—”
“It was plenty big for you and Lars,” Babs said. She slurped up a pull of her drink. The noise made a strange percussion against the slap of her footsteps. “But don’t worry. That sweet Sam Lamberti has already reserved an apartment for me in your building. On the first floor, furnished and everything. The renter is some academic type who needed to leave the country for a research project in Bora Bora or somewhere. He was hoping to rent it out and I’m happy to sublet. Of course I offered to pay extra for the inconvenience I cause by not signing a year-long lease, but,” she shrugged and smiled the grin that must have encouraged Lamberti’s generosity, “Sam simply wouldn’t hear of it.”
Mia trudged along beside her mother, not even trying to look happy about this turn of news. She made note of the date and vowed forever after to refer to that particular day as Black Saturday, the day her mother had pulled her unwittingly into the Pregnancy Pit of Despair.
“I suppose I can’t say anything to dissuade you,” Mia said. She saw Silas approaching them slowly, his gait slow and dignified. He’d shed his suit coat in honor of the warmer weather and wore a dress shirt with bow tie and vest.
“I’m happy to stay and take care of you,” Babs said, patting Mia on the arm.
“Why, this must be the lovely Mrs. Rathbun.” Silas smiled and took Babs’s hand for a gentle kiss. “Mr. Lamberti has sung your praises, ma’am.”
Babs was too coy to blush but was clearly pleased with the attention. “And who might you be, dear man? Clearly a person who knows how to treat a lady.”
“Mother, this is Silas Wilson. His apartment is on the first floor of our building.”
Silas winked and leaned in to speak quietly. “Mrs. Rathbun, your daughter is trying to say with all delicacy that I’m an old man who takes up her time with stories and free advice. Such a nice girl you’ve raised. Flawless manners.”
Babs patted his hand. “I can’t imagine you’re a burden, Mr. Wilson. Plus my daughter has made it her calling to improve the lives of the less fortunate.”
Mia felt the co
lor in her cheeks rise. “Actually Silas is very fortunate.” Her speech accelerated quickly. “In fact just the other day I was telling him how I envied him his long and fulfilled life.”
“Not without its hardships, I might add,” Silas said, nodding slowly. “Life’s not always what we want it to be, am I right, Mrs. Rathbun?”
“Certainly not.” She smiled consolingly. “Your people know a lot about suffering.”
Mia’s reserve of good will was officially empty. “All right, let’s go. Silas, great to see you. I’m sorry.”
Silas’s eyes twinkled. “No need for apologies, Mia honey. Your mama’s just telling things like she sees them. We could all stand for a little more of that.” He turned to Babs. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Rathbun. Thank you for your concern. I assure you, the good Lord takes care of me just as He does the sparrows.” He winked at Mia. “But I’ll pass along your kind regards to my people.”
Babs patted him on his shoulder. “Wonderful to meet you, Mr. Wilson. I’m sure I’ll see you around, now that we’ll be neighbors.” She shrugged her shoulders happily.
Mia pulled her away from Silas before she could stumble upon any more interracial musings. When they were safely out of Silas’s hearing, she tightened her grip on her mother’s arm.
“Mia, that’s too hard, dear. I don’t need you to escort me, for Pete’s sake.” Babs tried removing Mia’s clenched fingers from her forearm.
“Do you have an internal censor?” Mia said, looking over her shoulder.
“What are you talking about?” Babs sounded annoyed.
Stretch Marks Page 10
