In spite of our mom's smile, our dad's voice sounds serious. Ominous. I wonder if there's something they haven't told me, either about our mom or the baby.
"It's about time. I knew something was up, but no one ever tells me anything. The way Jenny's been holding her stomach all day I thought maybe she was pregnant."
Sydney sounds annoyed but not quite angry, and before anyone can respond, the car comes to a screeching halt in the middle of the street, and I realize what my sister has said.
Our dad is obviously not happy with the implications of Sydney’s words.
"What? Jenny?"
All the time I was with Michael, my dad used to tell us to be careful. I wasn't sure if that was man code for don't get my daughter pregnant or just a general warning for the both of us.
Maybe I should have considered that it was mostly the first option.
"No, Dad. No way."
I try to joke about it, but it comes out more serious than I intended it to be.
The car eases forward and our mom laughs again, just a little, but I can hear the fatigue in her voice.
I'm not sure why, but an image of Michael and Emily, Emily with a baby in her arms, finds its way into my mind, and I frown down at my cake, which is still covered with a napkin.
How soon will their wedding be? I didn't ask, and I haven't heard. I'm sure if there is a date set, someone would feel the need to inform me.
Is it really too late for Michael and me? Is it cruel for me to even think about it, when there's a third person involved now, one who seems like a truly good person as well as committed to Michael?
Why did he have to be in such a hurry to find someone else?
"How was the cake? I didn't eat any myself, but it looked really good. It's amazing what Cathy can do, not just with the baking part but the decorating."
I imagine Michael helping his mother set the cake up, one layer atop another, adding the bride and groom figures at the top. How soon does he want to marry Emily, and why does he want to marry her at all?
What does he love about her, that he discovered so quickly and knew he wanted to have close to him for the rest of his life?
When the two of us started holding hands back in middle school, we hardly knew much about ourselves, never mind each other. We just liked one another, and that's all it took.
What would it take for him to think about me in that way again?
Am I willing to hurt Emily to find out?
Chapter Sixteen
"What? When? How did this happen?"
Sydney stands up abruptly from the sofa, where she's been sitting beside me as our parents share their news, and throws her hands up in the air in disbelief.
"Well, Sydney, sometime in October. And the usual way, I expect."
Our mom has somehow maintained her sense of humor, in spite of how obnoxious my sister sounds. Incredulous, even, as if it just isn't possible for our parents to do what they've done before.
Had the two of us. As well as done what it takes to produce children.
I take my sister's hand and she pulls away from me, glaring down into my face.
"And you knew? You knew and you didn't tell me?"
"Hey," I begin, but she continues as if she doesn't want to hear what I have to say.
A long strand of her hair is sticking to the side of her face, and I want to push it up and back into her braid. I don't think she would appreciate the gesture right now, though.
"That's not fair. She hasn't even been living here, and I see you every day. How could I not know? Why didn't you say anything?"
Our dad's face is stony, and while our mom is still smiling indulgently, he is growing more angry with every word my sister says.
"Sit down right now, young lady. I've had enough."
When Sydney flops back down, she reaches out to me this time, and I don't hesitate to take her hand in mine when I see the tears standing in her eyes.
"Jenny found out today, accidentally. We wanted to tell you both at the same time. Not that we have to, and that's something you have to understand as well."
"Daniel . . ."
Our mom rests her hand on his knee, but he doesn't stop talking, looking from my sister to me and back again.
"Yes, this affects our whole family, but what the two of you fail to see is that this is between your mother and me first. Obviously. You're both old enough to understand and respect that."
He's right, and I can't fault Sydney for being slow to realize this. She's younger than me, and I didn't even really consider that.
"I want to be here."
The words slip out of my mouth before I think about them, although I was wondering about the baby's due date while we were still in the car.
I don't want to miss this. Not just the birth itself, but what follows. Being here to help our parents with the baby, watching him or her grow, and as I watch the tears slide down Sydney's face, I know that I want to be here for her as well. Her last year of high school, taking the ACT, applying to college . . . I want to be here for her, too.
"Of course you do. I wouldn't expect you not to, Jenny. I'm glad you'll only be a couple of hours away, so it won't be too difficult for you to come home and visit when the baby arrives."
I shake my head and Sydney's fingers tighten around mine.
"No, I want to be here all the time, before and after."
My sister leans into me, and I feel her body shift as she heaves a sigh. I know she never wanted me to go away to college, but she always seemed so excited for me to go, as if she understood that it was best for me to get away under the circumstances.
"What are you saying?"
Our mom rubs her forehead, and our dad puts an arm around her.
"Let's not get too excited right now. It's not good for your mom, and she's had some difficulties these first few months."
"I mean it. I want to stay here, maybe go to community college or take classes online, keep working at the diner. I want to be here."
Now that the words are out, I feel as if I can breathe more deeply again, and a decision has been made. Can I change my mind? Sure. Do I want to, or will I after all this emotion has drained away?
Not a chance.
I pull Sydney closer and hug her tight against me.
Part of my future has been decided, and I have a new person I haven't even met to thank for making me realize where my priorities truly lie.
Where my heart lies.
My baby brother or sister will have so much attention. Right now, though, I'm watching my parents as they share a look that seems to speak volumes without a word.
Would Michael and I have had that future together if I had behaved differently?
"I'm happy that you're staying here, Jenny, but I still wish I had known about the baby. I knew something was wrong, and I was worried."
Our mom nods to Sydney, who sniffles as she regains her composure. She doesn't sound so much spoiled and selfish as concerned, and I wish I had been here for her so she would have at least had me to share her worries with if our parents weren't ready to tell us yet.
And clearly they weren't.
"We've had a busy day, so why don't we just take it easy now, okay, girls?"
Our dad's words aren't questioning but instructing, and I stand up to walk over and give our mom a kiss before encouraging Sydney to follow me into my bedroom.
When Sydney was ten, she decided that she wanted to decorate her room in a Merida theme, after the Disney movie she loved. We painted some very awkward and out of proportion figures of Merida, the baby bears, and will o' the wisps on her walls, then moved on to my room, where I chose to cover my walls in Merida colors rather than characters.
I look at it now, teal and gold, with streaks of fire red accents, and think of Merida's words. We have the DVD, of course, and after watching it hundreds of times with my sister, I can hear Merida's insistence about her fate, and how she should have the chance to change it.
It's never rang true with m
e, who even at that point had a crush on Michael and dreamed of our first kiss, not long before we became a couple.
"Are you really going to stay home?"
Sydney bounces on my bed, more excited now than upset, and I'm happy that my revelation, which was as much a surprise to me as it was to my family, has eased her from her negative feelings about finding out about the baby after me.
"Yes, I am, although I didn't realize how much I wanted to until I knew about our new brother or sister."
She falls back so she's stretched across the width of the mattress, and her legs hang over one side while her arms flop over the other as she kicks against the metal frame.
"What will you do, though? Work at the diner?"
Not exactly my long term goal, either before she mentioned it or after.
But I could stay there as long as Cathy needs me while I work toward whatever I want to do for a career. Once I figure that out.
One step at a time, I guess.
"Why were you dancing with Michael, anyway? Wasn't his fiancée jealous?"
I shake my head. Emily must be very sure of Michael and their relationship if she had no problem with the way we danced together in front of everyone today.
"She's not like that. He must have told her that she didn't have to worry about me, or that he wasn’t interested in being with me again."
And she believed him. But the way he held onto me while we danced didn't feel like he wasn't interested.
"You two seemed pretty intense. Whatever you were talking about must have been important."
I walk over to the corner where I had painted tiny red rosebuds in the midst of a thorny vine along the wall and rest the pad of my finger on one of the flowers.
"He said that he didn't kiss Annabelle, she kissed him."
Sydney sits up on the bed in an instant, her eyes wide.
"What? And he couldn't have told you that before?"
I stare at her. How many times had she told me last year to answer his texts and calls, to let him explain? Of course he would have told me if I had let him, and now . . .
Is it too late?
My stomach gurgles and I rest my hand against it as if that will placate the noisiness for now.
"You have to stop doing that, or people will think you're pregnant, too."
My sister points at me, wiggling her finger. I ignore her claim, pressing my hand tighter against my grumbling belly as I think out loud.
"I don't know what I'm going to do, but I can't just not do anything, you know?"
She raises her eyebrows and pouts.
"I have no idea what you mean, but I'm glad you'll be here for whatever it is."
I wonder if I should talk this out with her, but for now, decide that I'll keep it to myself. She spent so many hours playing therapist to me when she should have been enjoying the last weeks of summer before the current school year started, and it's not really fair to unload on her again.
After all, I'm the big sister. I should be helping her, not the other way around.
"So why didn't you say anything to me about Mom being sick?"
I shift the subject as I join her on the bed, sitting beside her as she stretches out, her arms and legs stiff and straight for a moment before she relaxes them again.
"I don't know. Maybe I didn't want to upset you when you were at college, or maybe I thought it wasn't a big deal. She didn't say anything about it to me, like she would if she had the flu, or ate something that made her sick."
The stickiness of dried sweat on my neck reminds me that I need to change out of my mom's dress and clean up. Whatever went on here while I was gone is over, and I can't get caught up in wondering why I wasn't involved.
I chose to go away to college, and not being here when my mom might have needed me was an obvious result. The idea makes me feel a little guilty, but I didn't do it to avoid her or the rest of my family, or any responsibility towards them.
With three colleges in mind, I chose the one furthest away from small town gossip. Gossip that centered, then, on my breakup with Michael.
Of course I chose the largest one, where I could lose myself in the crowd and avoid any chance of running into anyone from Valley Vale.
Including Michael.
It sounds so immature and selfish, taking this all into consideration, and even giving myself the benefit of the doubt because of my emotional state at the time doesn't make me feel any better about my decision. If it had something to do with my career plans and the college's offerings or specialities, that would mitigate it, but my lack of vision when it comes to my future only confirms that I've wasted this past school year being anti-social and abandoning my family.
All because of a stupid mistake.
"You're thinking too much. Meanwhile, I'm getting my sweat all over your blanket, so I'm going to take a shower."
Words of wisdom that I accept from Sydney with a smile.
She rolls up and off my bed in one smooth motion, and steps out of my room without another word.
What could I possibly say to Michael to fix this?
Fix us?
Chapter Seventeen
"I'm glad everyone was happy with the cake, especially Michelle and Levi. I know men usually aren't very interested in those details, but he really seemed to appreciate the decoration."
Levi most likely had several beers before and after the wedding ceremony, and after the way he looked at his bride as she walked down the aisle towards him, there's no way he would have been disappointed in something like a cake. Who is ever disappointed in a cake?
But I don't tell Cathy this. She's basking in her relief that the cake was not only enjoyed, but that it didn't fall apart. I don't know how she managed to stack it together so evenly, even with Michael's help, but it held up.
"It was perfect. Sydney and I even brought some home with us, but it didn't last. Our dad managed to eat them both while we were changing out of our dresses and taking showers. He has a weakness for baked goods."
"Sounds typically male. You know how Michael is about cake. He might be around it all the time here, but he can't pass up a chance to have some whenever it's offered."
She's right, and the only person who would know that as well as she does is me. Michael isn’t a big fan of sweets, but something about cake has him salivating, as if it’s in a class of its own.
But I didn't see him eating any at the wedding reception yesterday, although it wasn't like I was watching him that closely.
Well, not the entire time, anyway.
Does Emily know how much he likes cake? Does she know that German chocolate is his favorite, and that he'll eat whatever leftover coconut you have once you have enough for the recipe?
"Is everything okay, Jenny?"
Cathy wipes down a counter on the far end of the kitchen as she peeks over her shoulder at me. As always, I'm in the midst of muffin batter prep, one giant bowlful at a time.
Once those are finished and cooling off before I arrange them on trays for the glass display case in the dining room, I'll help her with the bread, which would be more fun to make if I could knead it by hand.
Not that I have a lot of experience with that.
"Sorry, just thinking a lot, I guess."
I can't help but imitate the smile she offers in response.
"If you need to talk about anything, I am happy to listen."
She's always been someone I could talk to as I was growing up, but concerns about failing a history quiz or complaints about period mood swings aren't quite what I have troubling me right now.
I wish they were.
"Thanks. I think I need to figure some things out for myself, though. Time to grow up and all that."
Cathy wipes her hands on a paper towel and walks over to me with her hands on her hips, her smile intact, eyes sparkling.
"That's one way to look at it. You could also look at it as accepting help and support from a friend. There's nothing wrong with that."
Friends. Yes, w
e are that, now. She's no longer my boyfriend's mom, feeding me grilled cheese sandwiches during study dates, or sharing her opinion on whether or not Michael would like a new skirt I was contemplating buying.
She doesn't have to be my friend, but she not only has chosen to be, but she's given me this job, which not only allows me to earn money for car insurance, gas, and savings, but plenty of time to think.
I've needed that now more than anything else, even if I have no idea where my thoughts are taking me.
No, that's not true. They're taking me right back to Michael.
"Thanks. I might take you up on that."
The words are just out of my mouth when the back door opens, and while I expect to see Ellie or Steve, it's Michael who walks in. He's a little early for a Sunday morning, but he comes and goes on more of an erratic schedule on the weekends, I've noticed.
He looks tired, his hair messy and his green eyes hidden behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
When did he get those?
"You didn't have to be here so early! Why didn't you sleep in a little? You were up so late."
When Michael turns his head towards us, I look back down into the bowl of muffin batter, a familiar sight after staring at the same concoction for days and days now.
"I'm fine. Wanted to get started on the books for that audit."
He doesn't speak to me, heading toward the dining room after answering his mother so briefly.
"Taking all this so seriously, when it's not even in his hands yet. I wish he would take some time for himself once in a while."
Cathy seems to be speaking to herself, but she must want me to hear, otherwise she wouldn't be saying the words out loud.
Hadn't he taken time off for the wedding yesterday, like most of the town?
"When did he start wearing glasses?"
She blinks a few times, as if she's waking from a daydream, then shifts her weight and leans in, glancing at the batter under my nose.
"Around Christmas. He was getting these headaches, but nothing helped. Finally the doctor suggested he get his eyes checked, and that was that."
Why haven't I seen him wearing them before, I wonder, and as if on cue, she continues, answering my silent question.
When You Were Mine Page 10
