by M. E. Carter
She throws her fists to her sides and stomps her foot. “You can’t do that!”
“Oh, I damn sure can do anything I want. Get in your room. Go find the homework you need to finish. And it better be turned in tomorrow.”
“But it’s too late!” she yells. “I can’t get more than a fifty now!”
“I don’t care if you can only get a zero!” I yell back, knowing this tension isn’t good for the baby and doing it anyway. “You will keep up with your responsibilities whether you like it or not! And I’ll be emailing the school to make sure, so don’t you dare lie to me about this shit again!”
She stomps to her room yelling, “I hate you! I HATE YOU!” and slams her bedroom door.
“If you hate me, I’m doing my job!” I yell back.
Plopping down on the couch, I rub my belly and say, “Sorry baby. You didn’t need to hear all that. It’s not usually like that around here.” Which is a lie, because there’s always someone yelling around here. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it, though.
Maybe we need to get out to the farm for more reasons than I thought.
When I got home last night around eight, it felt like all hell had broken loose. Considering Oli was with me and having a great time at the farm, it was surprising to say the least.
Julie was locked in her room, music turned up and refusing to open her door. Greer was at her desk trying to work but not being able to focus on anything.
It took about thirty minutes of Greer venting to me to finally figure out how bad their fight really was. And no matter how much Greer can say she’s angry at Julie, I know she’s partially blaming herself. She always does. Rational or not, she takes any situation and tries to see if there is anything she could have done differently.
Honestly, there are a lot of things Greer has done that have led to the situation, but none that she could have avoided doing at all. A move, a new step-dad, and a new sibling are a lot for any teenager to adjust to, but what part could Greer have done differently?
None of them.
But the thing is, I’m responsible for two of those things, and I’m about to be responsible for another move. I need to do what I can to help Julie navigate through all this.
That’s why we’re here, wearing coats while sitting on the dock over the lake. Because right now, she needs the quiet and calm that only come with fishing.
Once we get our hooks in the water, we settle in, relaxing and enjoying listening to the sound of the wild. Julie’s dark hair blows in the wind, since she forgot a hair band. She really is having a hard time remembering just about anything these days.
We sit in silence for a while, just enjoying. We don’t have anywhere we need to be. I already finished my morning chores, and it won’t kill me to take the day off again. Eventually, I’ll have to get back on track, but this is more important. There are things Julie and I have to discuss. And she’s not talking yet, so I’m not moving. All too often it seems like hard conversations are happening on our time. This one needs to be on her time.
It takes a while, but she finally breaks the silence. “How’s the house coming?”
I look to my left and point several hundred yards away. “See for yourself.”
She squints. “That’s the house? It looks small. I thought it was a new barn or something.”
“The framing always seems smaller to me,” I say in agreement. “Once the walls go up, I can visualize it better. I promise, it won’t be small.”
Julie gives me a pointed look. “Mom’s gonna kill you if it’s too big. She’s always complaining about how hard it is to keep the house clean.”
A laugh rumbles out of me because it’s true. Greer hates cleaning. I already plan to get her one of those Roomba vacuum things for her birthday. I know people say that’s not romantic, but I’m willing to bet the thought of never having to vacuum again will get me laid.
“It’s not huge, I promise. Big enough for the five of us and your mom’s office. That’s it.”
“No formal living and dining room?”
I shrug. “Why do we need those? If we want to entertain a huge crowd, we’ll just use the farm house.”
Julie nods in agreement and turns back to the water. Now that the door is open, though, I keep going.
“Speaking of your mom, how are you feeling about the baby coming?”
“Fine,” she quips. It’s the answer she thinks I want to hear.
“Julie,” I plead, hoping she’ll give me more than that.
“What?”
“I don’t want to hear what you tell everyone. I want to know what you really feel.”
She breathes a heavy sigh before finally giving me what I want. The truth. “I’m excited about the baby because who doesn’t love babies, ya know? But I don’t want to have to raise it.”
“Wait,” I shake my head, confused. “Why would you have to raise the baby?”
“Oh come on, Ace.” She gives me an incredulous look. “Do you even understand how much time my mom spends supervising Oli? If she has to feed the baby, but Oli is having a meltdown, who do you think she has to deal with first? And who do you think has to pick up the slack?” She points to her chest and gives me a pointed look.
I pause, absorbing her words because I’ve never thought of it that way before. She’s right. If Oli is in the middle of a crisis, he takes precedence. Not because he’s more important, but because the more agitated he gets, the harder he is to control, and for everyone’s safety, the sooner de-escalation happens, the better.
“And I know nothing is going to happen to you guys,” she continues, looking back at the water. “But what if something does? Do I have to take care of two kids then?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I hold my hands up to stop her because nothing about this conversation sounds rational. “Why are you planning for our deaths? Don’t you think that’s pre-mature?”
“Oh come on, Ace. I’m not stupid. I know Oli will never be on his own. Mom already has a lawyer, so she can keep guardianship of him when he’s eighteen. I know I’ll ‘inherit’ him at some point. I just hope I have a job where I make enough money to pay for both of us because I don’t want to live with him forever. He’s exhausting.”
I open my mouth, then close it. Open again. Close again. I know I look like a fish out of water, but her words have struck a nerve. I had no idea she carried this much emotional weight around her. Her grades suddenly make sense. She’s trying to be prepared for the very adult problems she will probably someday face.
Securing my fishing pole between the boards of wood on the dock, I take hers out of her hand and do the same.
“What are you doing?” Confusion is written all over her face.
I gesture for her to stand up. “Come on. I wanna show you something.”
We begin walking toward the new house, talking as we go.
“You know my brother had Down Syndrome?” I ask her, unsure if she heard the story.
She shrugs. “I heard, but I don’t really know much about it.”
“He was born when my parents were in their forties. I was a little younger than you then. He was the cutest little baby, and I loved him so much.”
“Did he grow up to annoy you as much as Oli annoys me?”
I laugh. “No. I went off to college before that happened. I came home when my dad died and took over the farm.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. My mom couldn’t do it by herself, especially with my brother still here. Then she got sick.”
“She did?”
“Yep. Lung cancer from smoking. By the way, don’t smoke. It’s bad for you.”
She rolls her eyes, making me chuckle before I continue.
“When Mom got sick we talked a lot about what would happen to my brother. Who would take care of him and how would that work. I’ve been there, Julie. I understand your fear and your worry about taking care of Oli. But I want you to know, that’s part of the reason we started the co-op.”
“What do you mean?”
“I doubt you know this because most people don’t, but all my farm hands have to agree to take a basic training course about working with people with disabilities.”
Julie’s eyes widen. “They do?”
“Yep. That was one of the agreements we made with the state education agency when we decided to start the program with the school. Everyone who works on site is trained in de-escalation techniques and has some sensitivity training. We do it on purpose because we want everyone here to be able to work together.”
I stop walking as we approach the house so I can get to my point.
“Julie, All Hands Farm isn’t just my business. My goal was to have a place for my brother to live out his golden years in the event he outlived me. Pedro is actually in my will to inherit the farm, so he can take over and continue with that mission should something happen to me.”
Putting a hand on her shoulder, I urge her to look me in the eyes. “This farm is already set up for Oli. You don’t have to feel stuck or locked into taking care of him. If something happens to me or your mom, sure, you can maintain custody. But Pedro loves this farm. It’s his home and his mission as much as mine. Oli will most likely live here as an adult, even if you decide to live halfway around the world.”
She huffs out a breath, and I’m not sure if it’s a laugh or a sob. “You already have him taken care of.”
I nod. “I already have him taken care of. And I have you taken care of too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Follow me.”
We walk through the door frame that has yet to hold an actual door. I walk her around the cement foundation, pointing out the various rooms of the floor plan before stopping at a small enclosed area.
“See this right here?” I point to the marked out portion of the walls.
“It looks like a closet.”
“Not quite. That’s the beginnings of a staircase.”
“It’s two stories?”
I shake my head. “Not really. It’s considered one story and a bonus room. Julie”—I turn to her so she knows how serious I am—“I know how hard this move is for you. I know you left everything behind and just as you’re starting to rebuild, you have to leave everything behind again. I don’t want you to leave again until you want to. I want you to have options and choices.”
She crinkles her eyebrows. “And how is a staircase to a bonus room going to help?”
“The bonus room has a walk-in closet and a full bathroom attached,” I explain. “And it’s for you.”
Her eyes widen as I continue to explain.
“The architect put the staircase over here because it’s right next to the kitchen. The mud room is right there,” I point behind me. “That means you don’t have to go through the entire house to get to your space. You can just walk through the kitchen and out the back door, avoiding the living room or bedrooms. If you decide to stay while you’re in college, you have a quiet, private area to be where neither of your siblings will bother you.”
“Are you serious?” she whispers, tears in her eyes.
“I want you to feel like this is your home too. Not that you’re living in our home and your job is to be the third adult. That’s not fair. You’ve done an amazing job helping your mother out for a long time. But it’s almost your turn. In just a couple years you’ll be graduating, and I want you to have choices. Whether it be to go off to college knowing we’ve got everything covered here, or to stay here and join the family business because you’re tired of transitioning. You deserve to have more say in how your life is going to go.”
She slams into me, hugging me and sobbing into my chest. “Thank you, Ace. Thank you so much.”
I kiss the top of her head and hold her tight.
There’s a lot to still work out, but she’s going to be all right.
They say pregnancy takes forever, and it also goes by in a flash.
The fact that I can’t see my feet is proof both parts of that statement are accurate. Somehow life went on fast forward and my last trimester showed up out of nowhere. Yet, this pregnancy is dragging along at a snail’s pace, and I’m pretty sure it’s never going to end.
At least I can see my toes if I lean over far enough. Which reminds me, I need to get a pedicure since I can’t get to those scraggly things to fix the chipped paint. Maybe Julie and I can go this weekend. Jack can come over and hang out with Oli now that football season is over, and we can invite Joie so she can drive. Right now, when I’m this huge, it takes a village.
Over the weeks, things have gotten less strained with both my brother and my child.
Jack began his campaign to get back in my good graces almost immediately after his faux pas at my wedding dinner. It started with an apology phone call where I told him he was forgiven, but apparently, it didn’t alleviate his guilt. Since then, I’ve been the recipient of regular phone calls checking in, invitations for us to come have dinner, and offers to babysit. I’m not sure when Jack will be able to forgive himself, but that’s not my concern. He really is the best big brother a girl could ever ask for, but sometimes he doesn’t think it through before spouting off hurtful words. Sometimes I wonder if Hank is rubbing off on him too much. From what I understand, a similar issue almost ended he and Joie’s relationship before it even began, so I have no problem with him taking some time to work through his own guilt.
Plus, it means I might get that pedicure this weekend. Julie and I could use the time together. Since she and Ace went fishing a while back, things have gotten so much better. I don’t know what happened while they were out there, and no matter how much I ask, neither of them will tell me. But Julie seemed to settle somehow. She started smiling more. She started turning in her homework. It wasn’t every time, but it was a definite improvement.
She still has her teenage moments, but she’s not failing anymore. I feel like I’m breathing better because she’s breathing better.
A knock at the door has me looking away from my toes and around the house. Picking up has gone on the wayside for the last oh, dozen weeks or so. Whoever it is better not expect to be invited in.
“Oli!” I yell, hoping he’ll answer for me. Of course, he doesn’t respond. I have no idea what he’s doing, but my guess is he fell asleep sprawled out on his bed. Today was his farm day, and he’s always zonked when he gets home.
Grumbling to myself as I waddle to the front of the house, I swear if it’s someone asking if I know Jesus, I’m going to be cursing them to hell for making me walk all that way. Thirty weeks pregnant is no joke.
I don’t remember being this big when I was pregnant before. Maybe it’s my age. Maybe it’s the tacos. Maybe everything really is bigger in Texas, including pregnant women.
Case in point, the other day I was walking around the grocery store when a lovely older woman who happened by said, “Don’t worry, Mama. You’re almost there.”
I looked at her, exhaustion written all over my face and said, “I have ten weeks to go.”
Her eyes immediately got wide and she responded with, “Bless you. I’ll be praying for you.”
If it wasn’t so damn funny, I might have been offended, but that’s the reaction when people find out how much longer I have to go.
My mumbles are replaced by confusion when I open the door and see Ace and Pedro standing on my stoop. “What? Did you forget your key?”
“Hello, ma’am,” Pedro says politely. “We’re here to speak to Oli. Is he available?”
My heart drops. “Oh god. What happened.”
Ace’s face morphs into one of compassion, realizing why I’m starting to breath heavy. Anyone coming to my front door asking about Oli in an official capacity is my worst nightmare.
“Nothing is wrong, babe. This is a good thing. Just humor us, okay? Is Oli available?”
I furrow my brow. “Yeeeeees,” I respond slowly, thoroughly confused by what’s happening, but now settled in the knowledge I need to just p
lay along for whatever reason.
The two men walk through the door and I close it behind them. That’s when I realize they both smell good. Not like they just finished milking, but like they showered and put on cologne. And they’re wearing fresh clothes in the middle of the day. Now I’m really confused. “Listen. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m willing to roll with it except for one thing.”
Ace takes that moment to give me a quick kiss hello. “What’s that?”
“Oli is asleep on his bed, and I’m not waddling my way back there. You guys are going to have to break out of character for a few seconds to get him yourself.”
They both laugh as I do my best impression of a Weeble on my way back to the couch. I weeble and wobble, but I don’t fall down.
Not until I sit down anyway. I get about halfway before my legs give out and I plop onto the couch. It takes me a few seconds to get situated and put my feet up. Seriously. I have ten more weeks of this? How big can my stomach get? I’m already defying all sorts of scientific laws with my ability to stay standing without falling over.
By the time I’m somewhat comfortable, because who is honestly ever comfortable at six months pregnant, the guys are already back in the room with me. Oli is rubbing his face like he just woke up, hair sticking up every which way. He sits next to me while Ace and Pedro take the love seat together. I can tell Ace really wants to sit next to me so he can touch my stomach. He loves rubbing my baby bump. Maybe it’s more like a baby mountain at this point.
I know most pregnant women hate it when people touch their stomach, but I love it. My skin itches too bad and that part of my body aches non-stop, so it’s like getting belly rubs. I may as well be a cat with how I practically purr when someone touches me there. It’s not strange at all when I moan my appreciation in public. Nope. Not at all.
Getting down to business, Pedro sits on the edge of the couch to begin. “Oliver, we’re here because we want to talk about the work you do on the farm.”
