Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“ Y ou know you’re going to have to tell Mom and Dad sooner rather than later,” Fern says to me the next day. We’re in the kitchen having breakfast that consists of two sunny-side-up eggs for each of us, and some toast to dip in the runny yolk. Fern made me breakfast this morning because she wanted me to have a protein-filled start to my day.
“I know, and besides, it’s not like I would’ve wanted to keep it from them anyway.”
“When are you going to do it?”
“I just told Justin yesterday. Can I at least have some time to live with this news myself?”
“I think you should tell them today. You’ll feel better letting them know as soon as possible, and you know Mom is going to be over-the-moon excited about it.
“Shouldn’t I wait until after the first trimester?” I did a little research last night once Justin left and learned that if a woman is going to lose a baby for whatever reason, it typically happens during the first trimester. “You know, in case something happens and this pregnancy doesn’t carry to term.”
“You can do what you want, but she’s our mother. Wouldn’t you want her support if something does happen with this pregnancy?”
I think about this for a moment and decide that Fern’s right. I’d feel better if they knew as soon as possible. And in case I get morning sickness, I don’t have to lie to them about what’s going on. “Fine. But I’d rather have them come over here. Their house is a disaster right now.”
“Okay, but what should we make?”
“I think we should let Mom decide that,” I say. “That’s her domain anyway, and I think she’d enjoy cooking in a functional kitchen like ours.”
“And then she can bring whatever she wants to make with her, or we could all go to the store together,” Fern says.
I nod, then dial Mom on my phone. She answers on the third ring. I tell her our plan, and she says she’ll run to the store before coming. She agrees to make chicken and dumplings, but first she wants to know if we have certain ingredients. She runs me through a long list, and most of it we don’t have. She also has another list for dessert, and again, we don’t have a lot of it, so she says she’ll take care of it.
“What did she say?” Fern wants to know once I hang up.
“She and Dad are coming over, but I’m thinking maybe this was a mistake. She’s going to be bringing the whole grocery store with her when she comes. My goodness, her list was like a mile long!”
“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
But it is that bad when they arrive on our doorstep with five full bags of groceries.
“Geez, Mom. Did you save anything for anyone else?” I ask.
“And that’s not all of it,” my dad says. “There are two more bags in the car.” He heads back down to their car and comes back with the other bags. Fern and I help carry everything into the kitchen.
“This can’t all be for one recipe,” Fern says, eyeballing the amount of food in front of us.
Mom shakes her head. “No, of course not.”
“Then why did you get so much?” I ask.
“I just figured you girls needed some extra food in the house. I know you two are busy and can’t always get to the store,” Mom says.
I nod along, because sure, why not let her think that Fern and I are too busy to go to the grocery store? My mind flashes back to what Fern and I did all afternoon which was nothing. We sort of cleaned the kitchen and then watched TV with the rest of the time.
Fern continues unpacking the groceries. “Thank you for all of this. This will definitely get us through the week and then some.”
“If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the living room watching TV,” Dad says, poking his head in the kitchen. He’s smart to stay out of the kitchen because once Mom gets started cooking, she’s a force to be reckoned with. And she can be a little demanding at times which can lead to some tension. The two of them have a rule: he stays out of her kitchen, and she stays out of his garage.
Fern and I don’t fare as well as Dad and end up helping Mom with dinner. That basically involves her telling us what to do, then she critiques us, and sometimes takes over for us depending on the task. But eventually, we manage to get dinner together and even get a blueberry crisp in the oven for dessert.
When it’s time for us to eat, Mom portions out some for everyone right at the stove. Fern and I don’t take the time to set the table because there’s really no need to with this very casual meal. Fern takes everyone’s bowls to the table while I go and fetch Dad. He’s snoozing on the couch when I enter, and so I don’t startle him too badly, I give him a gentle nudge on the shoulder. His eyelids flutter open.
“Oh, hey, honey. What can I do for you?” he says, a sleepy grin on his face.
“It’s time to eat.”
My dad’s ability to fall asleep in an instant still amazes me to this day. It’s like a gift of his or something. I swear when we were kids, we’d ask him to watch a movie with us and within minutes of the movie starting, he was out. His job had him up early, so I’m sure that had something to do with it, but there have been many nights recently where I wish I had the ability to do that. Too many thoughts running through my head have wrecked my sleep.
Dad stretches, then gets up from the couch and follows me into the kitchen. Mom looks at the half-awake expression on his face and chuckles to herself.
“You fell asleep, didn’t you?” she asks. He just nods.
While we’re eating, Fern keeps looking my way, probably trying to figure out when I’m going to spill my news. I was thinking during dessert would be the best time because I have a feeling that when I tell them, Mom is going to be beside herself and abandon her dinner. And she’s going to have all the questions… So yeah, I think I should wait until everyone has finished their meal.
But when we’re halfway through dessert and I still haven’t said anything, Fern’s casual looks my way have turned into all-out stares. And hell, I think at one point she glared at me.
Mom sets her spoon down and looks over at Fern. “Fern, what is wrong with you? Why do you keep looking at your sister?”
Maybe this was Fern’s plan all along. Keep drawing attention toward me, and then maybe I’d finally say something.
Fine. I’ll just get it out in the open now so we can move on. “She keeps staring at me because she knows I have news to share.”
Fern mouths, “Sorry,” at me.
Mom and Dad look over at me, and the seconds that tick by seem like hours. This is much harder to get out than I thought. I can’t seem to find the right words, and there’s really no way to eloquently say what I need to say.
“What is it, honey?” Dad asks, sensing my distress.
“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it.” Everyone’s eyes are on me. Mom looks downright worried and Dad looks confused. Meanwhile, Fern is smiling at me and kind of nodding, like she wants me to just say it. It’s like she’s giving me a confidence boost from across the table. “I’m pregnant. You two are going to be grandparents.”
I wait for the words to register with my parents. Mom speaks first.
“Are you serious?” she asks, her expression hopeful.
“When did this happen? Who is he?” Dad asks, a twinge of anger in his tone.
Other than Fern, no one has met or heard of Justin, so they probably think this happened out of the blue. I mean, it kind of did, but there’s more to it than that. My dad is a traditional kind of guy, so he probably thought he was going to go to a wedding first, and then grandkids would come later.
Mom senses Fern’s unusual calmness and picks up on the fact that she hasn’t said anything. “Fern, did you know about this?”
Fern nods. “I found out yesterday, but don’t think she kept you two in the dark for too long. She just found out this weekend.”
“And have you met this guy?” Dad asks, still grumbling that he hasn’t met Justin yet.
“Yes, he’s been over a few times. He’s great, and I think you’d like him,” Fern says, coming to my rescue. At least now they know that Justin isn’t some random stranger off the street who knocked me up.
“He’s going to have some explaining to do.” Dad crosses his arms, letting everyone in the room know that he’s not happy with this situation.
Mom nudges him and tells him to hush. “You know, I really thought it’d be Fern and Brett who would have kids first, so this is quite a shock.”
“I know. It’s a shock for me too,” I say.
“But don’t think for one second that I’m not thrilled to be expecting a grandchild,” Mom says, reaching across the table for my hand. She gives it a gentle squeeze and her gaze meets mine. “Whatever you need, we’re here for you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say, then turn toward Dad. “Daddy? Do I have your support too?” Tears well up in my eyes.
He gets up from the table and motions for me to stand. He wraps me in the biggest hug I think I’ve ever had from him, and rubs his hand up and down my back. “Of course you do. You’ll always have my support.” He kisses the top of my head, then releases me.
As I look around, there’s not a dry eye around. Mom stands up next and engulfs me in a hug.
“I’m going to be a grandma,” she says, so much joy in her tone. “I can’t believe it. Will you keep us updated as your pregnancy progresses?”
“Yes, I sure will,” I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
“Are we going to be able to meet the father? You said his name is Justin?” Dad asks.
“You can meet him as soon as you’d like. I didn’t want to have him over this weekend because he’s on call, and I wanted to tell you about the pregnancy when it was just our family here,” I say.
Mom takes a sip of her water. “But he’s also going to be family, and we’d like to meet him as soon as possible. You said he’s on call this weekend. What does he do?”
“He’s in his last year of residency.” I wait for one of them to ask the question I know is coming.
It’s Dad who asks first. “A resident, huh? What’s his specialty?”
“He’s going to be an ob-gyn,” I say, not a shred of embarrassment in my tone.
“Huh… Well, I’m curious why he would choose that,” Dad says.
“He has his reasons, which I’ll let him explain to you when you meet him. And may I remind all of you that the best ob-gyn I’ve ever had is a man, so I think Justin will make a fine doctor,” I say.
Mom nods along. “I’m sure his expertise will come in handy during your pregnancy. And I can’t wait to meet him so I can congratulate him. Do you have any concerns about being pregnant and raising children? I’m very qualified to answer, having raised two beautiful children of my own.”
“Of course, I have concerns,” I say. “I’m only twenty-six and I feel like I haven’t really done anything with my life. And I feel like having a baby is going to put that off even longer.”
Mom takes my hand again and meets my gaze. “But now you have the most important job of all—being a mother.”