by Meg Jolie
“It just happened,” I parroted, still in shock.
She nodded. “I know it sounds like a copout kind of thing to say. But it’s the truth. Sometimes…things just happen.”
I nodded because I couldn’t disagree. Tristan and I? Not planned. We just happened too.
“So things are serious?” I demanded.
She nodded.
“Then if they’re serious, why didn’t you bring it up? And don’t say because I didn’t ask you to,” I warned.
“The truth is, we really…We just didn’t know where things would go. We were taking it slow and we just,” she shrugged, “neither of us wanted to drag you through that kind of hurt and disappointment again. We didn’t want you to get your hopes up. Not until we were sure it was going somewhere.”
“Getting my hopes up? That would not have been an issue,” I told her.
“We’ve been going to marriage counseling,” Mom quietly explained.
“You are not married!” I tried not to shout. I failed.
Mom let out a weighty sigh.
“When were you going to tell me? Never?”
“To be honest, I was planning on telling you last weekend. But then you were so upset about Tristan. It just obviously wasn’t the right time.” She said. Her voice was firm and insistent. “After you and Tristan worked everything out, we decided it would be best to tell you this weekend. We were just trying to decide the best way to tell you. We didn’t know if I should tell you. Or if we should tell you together. But we were going to tell you.”
“Huh.” It was the best I could manage right then.
The woman I am dating is not a floozy. You watch your mouth. Dad’s words bolted into my head from out of nowhere. I rolled my eyes, though Mom had no idea why.
She gave me another one of her looks. As if I was being the unreasonable one.
“I still love him Britta. And he loves me. Most importantly, we both love you. More than anything. We thought, we had hoped, that you would be excited about this. Most kids would be thrilled to have their parents back together.”
“Most kids,” I grated out, “didn’t have the displeasure of catching their dad—,” I abruptly cut myself off. No matter how angry I was, I didn’t want to say the words out loud. Mom had been hurt enough. She knew where I was going with my comment, no need to clarify.
“Wait,” I said as her words finally took hold, nestling into my brain. “By ‘back together’ you mean what exactly?”
Mom pursed her lips.
My stomach tied itself into a giant knot.
I started shaking my head as I slid further away from her.
“We’re getting married, Britta. A week after your graduation,” Mom firmly, unapologetically told me.
I stared at her. I was speechless. Totally, completely, utterly speechless.
My parents were getting married. To each other. That kind of thing just shouldn’t happen. I found myself wondering if I had to attend the wedding…
Wedding. The word made my stomach twist tighter and tighter into that sick feeling knot. It was so intense it took my breath away. I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to. Not that I did want to. I had nothing to say.
She took advantage of that and continued on. “Do you know how many people I’ve dated in the two and a half years since my divorce?”
I shook my head. I didn’t keep track of things like that.
“Seven.” She paused for affect. “Seven, Britta. Do you know how many of them made me feel any zing?”
I mentally groaned. Did I want to know?
“None of them,” she said with a sad little sigh. “Not a single one. But when I ran into your dad…and we started talking…”
“You’re seriously getting married?” I was still very stuck back in that part of the conversation. The words were simple. They shouldn’t be so hard to comprehend and yet, they were.
“Yes. And I hope you can be happy for me. For us. This can be a wonderful thing for all of us.” She was looking at me hopefully.
I was so confused. I was shocked. I was hurt by the realization that this had been going on for months and I didn’t know. Dating Mr. Gallagher—if she ever had—was one thing. Dad was entirely another matter.
“I’m surprised you even agreed to meet with him,” I told her. I’d always been under the impression that she loathed him. But maybe that’s because in those first few months, she had. But then it had faded to something less volatile and I had just not been aware. Because my own feelings toward him had always remained quite explosive. But she hadn’t been aware of that because I hadn’t wanted to burden her with it. We just never talked about my dad much at all.
“That first time, when I agreed to meet with him, I just wanted closure,” she admitted.
“You don’t get closure from starting something. You get it from ending something! Ending! As in closing the deal, Mom!” She had her doctorate. Wasn’t she supposed to be the smart one?!
“I know. I know,” she said quietly. “But we were together for twenty years Britta. Twenty-two if you want to be exact. When we went out for that first cup of coffee, we started talking…reminiscing…” She blushed. “To be honest, I found myself wondering what it would be like to just have a little fling. I thought…What could that hurt?”
And I thought ewww.
“Just to get him out of my system. But…well, things got complicated.”
“And you never thought it would be best if you uncomplicated them?”
She took a deep breath. “I fell back in love Britta. Or maybe, most likely, I’d never completely fallen out. The same goes for him. After we both realized that, I, for one, had no desire to make them ‘uncomplicated’ as you say. And I had every reason to try to make it work. We both have every reason in the world to try to make this work.”
I had a sudden blinding realization that this conversation was not winding down. It was just getting started. I eyed her warily. And to be honest, the immature side of me felt very much like bolting. I reined that side in and said, “There’s more.” It came out sounding flat. Resigned.
She nodded.
“Am I going to want to hear this?”
They were getting married—ugh, I was nowhere near able to wrap my head around that yet. Around what it really, truly meant. Then I let out a mental sigh of relief when I realized that I didn’t have to stick around when they got back into their routine of playing house. They, at least, were going to wait until I graduated. I could be out of the house within the following three months. Not earlier, though really, since I had a late July birthday. I just had to get through the summer.
I can get through the summer, I told myself firmly. Mom didn’t have any idea I was giving myself a mental pep talk so she continued with her side of the conversation.
“I hope you want to hear this,” she said, answering the question I’d already forgotten I’d asked. “I hope you’ll be excited about it.” I could tell she really meant it because hope was splashed across her face.
She wants me to be her maid of honor, I thought. She wants me to stand up there with them and pretend I’m thrilled about this. No, she wants me to actually be thrilled about this. I’m supposed to pretend that everything is alright. Completely normal and on the verge of being brilliantly spectacular. One big, happy family forever reunited.
I was so tangled up in my rambling mind that I didn’t hear what she said, the first time.
“Britta,” she repeated, snapping me back to attention. There it was. That hopeful look drilling into me. “I’m pregnant. I just found out today. That’s why we were meeting.”
Wait?! What?!
“What?!” I managed to spit out. I grabbed onto the countertop because suddenly, my world felt like it had been tipped sideways. It had started tipping at the beginning of the conversation and in that moment, I felt like I’d been flipped over completely. And if I didn’t grab onto something, I was going to end up flat on my ass.
So she said it again, poss
ibly for the third or fourth time.
“I’m pregnant. Your dad and I are having a baby. You’re going to be a big sister. You’re going to have a little brother or sister in about eight more months.” Apparently she ran out of ways to say it because she stopped there. She looked so happy…and worried…and…ugh, hopeful!
“How did that happen?!” My voice sounded unfamiliar to my own ears.
She gave me a pointed look.
I gave her one back. “I know how it usually happens,” I told her in irritation. “But you and Dad…”
Please don’t make me say it, I thought. They had tried and tried to have another child. For years on end. I knew this because I had overheard one too many conversations that involved words like infertility, artificial insemination, numbers involving—oh, yuck and gross and ick—my dad’s sperm counts, my mom’s egg production, hormone shots…Need I go on?! Because I could. And it would only get worse.
“I don’t know how it happened. That’s why it kind of feels like a miracle. Like a sign,” she said. She had a dreamy, delighted look on her face.
“A sign that you should’ve used birth control!” I blurted out. The second I said it I realized I may have ruined the moment for her at least a little.
Mom gave me a flustered look. “Why would we use birth control? We tried for more than ten years to have another child. We tried everything. So birth control sort of seemed irrelevant.”
Okay, yes, I realized, she does have a point.
“I’m not very far along,” she said softly. “We’re pretty sure it happened the weekend we went to Powder Ridge.”
I stuck my hand in the air to stop her. “I don’t need details!”
“Right,” she said.
I had turned away. I could feel her gaze on my back. I shook my head.
My parents were together.
My parents.
They were getting married.
They were having a baby.
A stray thought found its way to me.
I turned back around to face her again. “Mom. You’re a smart, successful woman. You don’t need to marry him just because you’re knocked—”
“Britta!” she snapped. The look on her face could only be described as horrified.
“I’m just saying—”
“I think you’ve said enough!” she announced as she cut me off again. Her horror had turned to something else. I had a terrible feeling that my mom was about to cry. Because of me. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself.
I threw both of my hands up in the air in a sign of defeat. “You’re right! You should just be able to drop this huge verbal bomb on me and I should just pretend you didn’t blow my world as I know it into a million little pieces!” I started walking toward the kitchen door. “I’m just supposed to pretend that I’m happy. And that I understand. And that everything is just freaking fabulous! But I’m not happy! I don’t understand! And this is not fabulous!” I was two breaths away from bursting into tears. Instead, I raced out of the kitchen, up the staircase.
“Britta!” Mom shouted after me.
My thoughts were on a loop, spinning out of control...
My parents were together.
My parents.
They were getting married.
They were having a baby.
I was halfway up the stairs, those thoughts making their third or fourth loop through my brain when another thought struck. It froze me in place.
I’m going to be a big sister…
I stood there for I wasn’t even sure how long. My fingers gripped the banister so tightly they ached. My breaths were coming in annoying little huffs.
I’m going to be a big sister… I’m going to be a big sister… I’m going to be a big sister…
Suddenly, nothing else, not one bit of the rest of the conversation mattered.
“Britta?” I heard Mom ask.
I realized she must’ve followed me out of the kitchen.
Her voice snapped me out of my mental reverie. I turned and barreled back down the staircase, straight into her startled arms.
“I’m going to be a big sister,” I whispered.
And then I started to cry.
22
Krista had her face screwed up into a look I didn’t appreciate. “Aren’t they kind of old for that? I mean, having a baby at their age?”
“My parents aren’t old,” I nearly snapped at her.
Okay, maybe they were a little bit old. But I didn’t need her pointing that out. I suddenly realized how Jamie must feel quite often. She could think something about Tristan but no one else had better dare say it.
Willow had two younger siblings. She was giving me a look of pure sympathy. Unlike Krista, she seemed to know I’d prefer it if she kept any negative comments to herself. Besides, with such a huge age-gap between us, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to have any of the same issues she had.
“I think it’s really exciting,” Jamie said sweetly.
It made me want to hug her. So I did. Never mind that we were at Gia’s, waiting for our order to arrive. It was Friday night. I’d told Willow and Jamie about the baby right away. And, of course, Tristan, too. Krista wasn’t as close of a friend so I’d just told her now.
I was still trying to get used to the idea but with every passing day, it was becoming more real. Mom had insisted on having Dad over for dinner every night this past week, starting the night of the admission. And then the nights that followed.
My first impulse was to refuse to come out of my room.
Or to disappear by heading over to the Jacobs’s house.
In general, my first inclination was to act like a spoiled, pouty, bratty teen-ager.
Then I reminded myself I was about to become a big sister. And I should act like one. So I’d reluctantly wiggled into my big-girl panties. I’d done my best to be pleasant. That first night…it had been stressful. It was obvious that a cordial conversation had been a strain. It was also obvious that everyone was trying. And maybe that had been the problem. The three of us were trying too hard. It had been awkward. Through it all, I continued to tell myself a baby changed everything. We were going to be a family again whether I liked it or not. So why not make it easier on everyone and at least try to like it?
So I was.
Trying.
I wasn’t all the way there yet but I was making an effort. My childhood had been happy. Before my parents had problems, I’d been happy. I wanted that, that kind of love and security, for my sibling. And if my parents thought they could recreate that? Then I needed to stand back and let them try. Without letting any negative feelings I may have cloud the way.
It was obvious it made my mom happy that I was putting in an effort. And more than anything? I wanted my mom to be happy. She’d been through hell with the divorce. But she’d come to terms with it. I needed to do the same.
“I hope it’s not a boy,” Jamie muttered as I released her from my sideways hug. “Brothers are such a pain in the ass.”
I laughed at that. “I’m going to be eighteen by the time it’s born. I really don’t think it’s going to matter what the sex is. I’m just excited, either way!”
I realized then, that I was. Growing up I’d always wanted a sibling. I’d pestered my parents relentlessly when I was younger. Before I was old enough to realize how desperately they wanted a baby, too. But over the years, when it had become apparent that it wasn’t going to happen, I’d convinced myself it really didn’t matter. But now? I was so freaking excited I could hardly contain myself. Eight more months seemed like a tortuous amount of time to wait. I could only imagine how my mom felt.
And my dad.
Because in all fairness, he was obviously excited, too.
“Britta?” Krista said. Her tone implied she’d been talking to me. And that I had been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t heard her.
“Sorry, what?” I asked. I shook my head to clear it. Then I redirected my attention to Krista, who was sitting across from me.
<
br /> “I asked when she’s due?”
“Oh,” I felt a tiny frown take over. “September.”
“After we leave,” Willow filled in.
Jamie nudged me. “We’ll just have to make a lot of trips home. Or something.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Or something.”
“Here’s our pizza,” Willow said as she readjusted her glass to make room.
It was a large, plain pepperoni. Krista was a picky eater, even when it came to pizza. We all got our food situated and then Willow beamed at me from across the table.
“Are you excited for tonight?” she wondered.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I kind of am.” I turned to Jamie. “How about you?”
We were going to be heading to Pulse in a little while. Tristan’s band was playing. He was with them, getting ready. My friends had decided to make a girls’ night out of it. No boyfriends or dates allowed.
Jamie gave me a noncommittal shrug. I grinned at her. I knew her well enough to know she was trying to keep her expression impassive. She took a bite of her pizza and gazed off into the center of the restaurant.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt anything if you actually admitted that you’re excited for him,” I said. I nudged her shoulder for good measure.
A small smile crept onto her face. “Fine. It’s kind of cool. My brother is in a freaking band! My nerdy little brother. Who would’ve thought?”
I shook my head, smiling, but didn’t argue. Tristan and his expensive jeans and vintage shirts were about as far from nerdy as a guy could get. But who was I to argue with Jamie?
“I just can’t believe how cool our parents are being about this. I thought for sure they’d lock him in his room for life after they heard he’d joined a band,” she admitted.
Willow gasped theatrically. “What? And risk smothering him into a state of eternal rebellion?”
“Okay, okay,” Krista interrupted. “Enough talking about the band. Let’s get eating so we can get on over to Richmond. I want to actually hear this band!”
