37. The First Pancake
thirty-seven
The First Pancake
Dylan
W hen I get done with work, I rush home to Leah. Today was the day she was going to see her mom. I’ve been worried about her all day. I texted her earlier, and she said she was fine, but she went radio silence after that. I hope and pray that she and her mom are having a good time, and she’s just not paying attention to her phone.
When I pull into our driveway, though, I see her car already parked. A bad feeling starts to settle in my gut.
I walk inside, and it takes me a moment to spot her. It isn’t until I hear her sniffles that I walk to the couch and see her lying curled up in the fetal position, crying and eating a bag of carrots.
“Leah, baby? Are you okay?”
She gives a nod paired with another sniffle.
“Are you sure?”
This time, she shakes her head while tears pour from her eyes.
I encourage her to sit up so I can have a seat and put her head in my lap.
When we are situated, I say, “Tell me what happened.”
“I went over there to talk to her, and it all blew up in my face.”
“How so?”
She wipes a tear from her cheek. “She fucking hates me.”
I run my fingers through her hair, ready to let her explain everything at her own pace.
It doesn’t take long for her to open up and tell me everything. “When I first got there, she assumed I needed money. Then, she said she was surprised this was my first kid. I guess she thought I didn’t know how to use a condom or something. She scolded me for having a baby out of wedlock and told me she knew the baby’s dad was a loser. That pissed me off more than anything.”
She falls silent.
“Leah? Talk to me, gorgeous.”
She sits up and looks at me with a quivering lip. “Because I’ve done a whole hell of a lot of dumb shit in my life. A lot. My mom probably has a lot to be ashamed of, but you aren’t in that category. You are so good to me…and the baby. She doesn’t get to insult you.”
An extreme sense of pride fills my chest, knowing that she was ready to go to war for me even though her mom was being awful to her.
Through her tears, she says, “She doesn’t know anything about you. And she would barely even let me talk.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” I wipe a tear off her cheek. “I love that you stood up for me, though.”
She sighs. “I just don’t get how she can hate me so much.”
“Sounds like she has some shit she needs to work out. What did she say when you told her you wanted her to be a more involved grandma?”
“She doesn’t want anything to do with me or our baby. She said some people are just bad for each other, and she doesn’t need any of my drama.”
Anger courses through me. How can someone be that cold and callous to their own kid—especially when that kid came to make amends?
She pushes her hair out of her face. “Maybe she’s right. I’m the one that walked out.”
I stop her. “Hey, this is not your fault. You left a bad situation. Instead of trying to get her daughter back, she just let you go. It’s not like she reached out over the past decade. You’re the one who wanted to make it right. That takes guts.”
She sighs. “I guess you were right. Going over there was a horrible idea.”
“I didn’t want to be right.”
Her eyes fall to her lap. “She told me she hopes our daughter is a huge disappointment to us like I am to her.”
I grind my teeth, trying to figure out how to censor myself. “Leah, you are, by far, the toughest woman I’ve ever met in my life. You’ve had so much shit thrown at you, and you still manage to handle every bit of it. You’ll kick anyone’s ass, and you’re witty as hell. If she’s too blind to see that, then, fuck her.”
Okay, I didn’t do so great at censoring myself.
She leans forward to kiss me. “You’re the sweetest. I just wish that I would’ve had that bad-ass attitude when I was over there. I should’ve went off on her and told her all the shit that she did wrong, but…”
“You were hurt.”
“Yeah.”
“And you wanted things to work out for our daughter. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She groans. “I feel like an idiot.”
“She’s the one who’s an idiot. She’s never going to know how amazing our daughter is going to be.”
Her tears flow harder once again.
“Leah, talk to me,” I prompt.
“I just really wanted to have my mom around through the pregnancy. It would have been nice to have her to get advice from and to go shopping with. I know we have been estranged, but I thought the baby would help us get over all the bullshit. Usually, I wouldn’t give a shit. All of the pregnancy hormones have made me all sentimental.”
“It’s normal that you want family around. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
She grabs a tissue to wipe her nose. “It sucks that none of my family wants anything to do with me.”
I feel horrible. I have half a mind to go tell her mother exactly how I feel about her. But I think my efforts would be better spent making Leah feel better. I’m starting to realize her mom isn’t worth anyone’s time.
I ask, “When was the last time you heard from your dad?”
“When he left, I was seven. I sent him a couple of letters when I was a teenager, but I never heard back. Mom told me he got remarried and had more kids. I guess both of my parents threw out their first pancake.”
“Huh?”
“You know how when you make pancakes, the first one is usually a mess, so you throw it out? That’s me. I’m the first pancake.”
I give her a confused look. “You know how to cook pancakes?”
She grabs a throw pillow and hits me in the face with it. “Oh, shut up.”
“But for the record, I never throw out my first pancake. Just because it may not be perfect doesn’t mean it doesn’t still taste delicious.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down at her.
She laughs, and I feel like I’m achieving my goal of making her feel better.
I pick up the bag of baby carrots she’s been munching on. “Leah, do you realize these expired two weeks ago?”
Immediately, her face falls and the tears start again. “Oh my God. On top of everything, I’m going to hurt our baby by eating expired carrots.”
“Oh, come here.” I take her into my arms. “I’m sure the baby is just fine.”
I know the continued tears aren’t just because of the carrots. It’s the culmination of everything that happened today. So, I hold her and let her cry.
Her tears soak my shirt, but I don’t care. I’ll hold her for as long as she needs me to.
When she calms down, I spot a shoe box on the coffee table. “What’s that? ”
“Some pictures my mom gave me.” She grabs it. “I was waiting on you. I didn’t want to go through it alone.”
When she opens it, there’s a small stack of photos. I was expecting more. My mom would have taken double this on a Saturday picnic in the park. The look on Leahs’ face shows she was expecting more too. She takes them out of the box and starts looking through them.
The first one is a photo of Leah as a toddler with a man she says is her dad. I can see the resemblance in their bright green eyes.
The next is one that shows Leah at her Kindergarten graduation.
“You were a cute kid,” I say.
“Between the two of us, our daughter will be down right adorable,” she smiles.
Her face lights up at the next photo. “Look! It’s the Barbie cake I was telling you about.”
There are a couple more photos from the party, and she tells me all about it.
I know she hasn’t had an easy go of it. But I swear I’m going to do my best to make her life great from here on out.
My phone chimes next to us. When I pick it up, I see it’s a text from Jack. I hope he’s not asking me to come to work. There’s no way I can leave Leah right now.
When I open it, though, I see it’s a photo.
“Aw, look.” I hand the photo to Leah. “Liz and Jack had their baby.”
She looks at it and starts grinning. “Man, she’s cute. Do they have a name?”
“Beth Lynn Barrett. ”
“I like it. I’m surprised she didn’t tell the family she was in labor.”
I laugh. “I’m not. Liz is independent to a fault. She probably didn’t even tell Mom. And if we listen closely, we can probably hear Mom screaming at Liz right this very second.”
“Ouch.”
“Yep.”
She looks at the photo again. “At least something good came from this shit storm of a day.”