Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
ALLIE
Margie and I are sitting across the dining room table from my parents. Conversation flows smoothly enough as we pass around platters of food that I’m hopeful it’s a good omen and my news about adopting won’t freak them out too badly.
Handing the rotisserie chicken to Margie, I tell her, “Make sure you take a lot. You need the protein.”
Once our plates are full, the atmosphere fills with the sound of silverware clattering against plates. I’ve completely lost my appetite, but I cut stuff up and push it around my plate, so I at least look like I’m eating.
I try to screw up my courage by reminding myself that I’ve stood up to my mom in the past. Even though it didn’t always go well, I always maintained my stance.
The only time she won was when she forced me to register for white china for my wedding instead of the floral pattern I was drawn to.
Her reasoning was that white could be used all year and floral would be limiting.
It wasn’t the worst decision, but still, I’ve always regretted not going with my heart.
My mom finally breaks the silence and asks Margie, “Have you thought more about what you’re going to do with your pregnancy?”
“I sure have.” Margie sounds extremely happy.
My mom arches her left eyebrow until it forms something of a question mark. “Are you willing to share the news?”
Margie glances at me for permission, so I nod. I suppose this is as good a time as any to start the conversation. “I’m going to put her up for adoption,” Margie announces.
“Really?” My mom’s tone makes it hard to pinpoint if she thinks this is a good idea or not.
Joining the conversation, I explain, “Margie wants an open adoption so that she will be able to have contact with her child as it grows up.”
“Oh.” Again, my mother doesn’t offer enough of an inflection to convey her true feelings. But if I had to guess, I don’t think she likes the idea.
My dad, however, asks, “Won’t that be hard on you?”
“No harder than not knowing how my baby was doing,” she tells him.
“What if the adoptive parents don’t want an open adoption?” my mom wants to know.
“They’ll have to agree to that up front,” Margie says. “If they don’t, then they aren’t the parents I’ll choose.”
I have a lump of chicken lodged in my throat that might just end me if I don’t get it down. Picking up my water glass, I take a big gulp until the danger has passed. Then I take a deep breath before blurting out, “Margie has actually already chosen who will get to adopt her baby.”
My mom’s fork falls and crashes loudly onto her plate. “How is it possible to have found someone so soon?”
“A lot of people want to adopt,” I tell my mom.
“The Wilsons adopted all of their children,” my dad interjects, referencing his old partner at his law firm.
“It took them ages.” My mom looks at Margie and shares, “They were on a waiting list for three years before they got their first.”
“Like I said, Mom, a lot of people want to adopt.” I take another sip of water and try to gauge if this really is the best moment to share my news.
Before I can decide, my dad says, “It was tough on them with Charlie though. They didn’t know he was a fetal alcohol baby until all the developmental trouble started.
” He tops that off with, “I’d be afraid to adopt.
You never know whose baby you’d get and what kind of family health history they might have. ”
“That’s why I’ve decided to pick someone that I know. This way, they’ll know me and know what they’re getting,” Margie tells him.
“You’ve found someone you know who will agree to this arrangement?” My mother sounds both horrified and curious at the same time. This might not be a surprise, but my mom slows down and gawps at every car accident she passes. That’s kind of how it feels right now.
“I have found someone,” Margie tells them. Then she looks at me to see if I want to take over.
I don’t really have much choice at this point, so I announce, “I’m going to adopt Margie’s baby.”
I might as well have just confessed to being a serial killer, given the looks on both of my parents’ faces. My dad’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly until it simply closes. My mom’s eyebrows knit together so tightly she could hold a penny in the slit that forms between them.
I’m about to explain everything in more detail, but my mom stands up, bursts into tears and then runs from the room. While I didn’t necessarily expect her to take the news well, I didn’t think she would make such a scene.
My dad pushes away from the table. “I should go check on your mother.”
But before he can, my mom walks back into the room. She stands behind her chair like a queen—shoulders back, head high, and an indefinable expression on her face.
“Mom,” I tell her, “there’s no need for you to get hysterical.”
“No need?” she sputters. Then she repeats louder, “No need?!”
Why couldn’t I have had a mother who supported my choices without constantly questioning them? Would that have really been too much to ask for? Instead of asking her that, I tell her, “This is my decision, and I’ve made it. I’m sorry you can’t be happy for me.”
“Happy for you?” She bursts into tears again.
“Yes, Mom. Happy for me. Why is that such a foreign concept for you? My life doesn’t have to be just like yours for it to be a good life, you know.”
She shakes her head from side to side. “Your life is nothing like mine, Allison.”
I’m about to throw my napkin at her and storm out when she surprises me by sitting back down.
Staring me dead in the eye, she says, “I’ve had it easy, Allie.
I’ve had the smoothest ride possible. And you …
you’ve not been so lucky. I would do anything in this world for you not to have any more obstacles.
Anything.” The tenderness in her tone catches me off guard.
“Then why are you giving me a hard time about this?” I demand. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be a mom and Margie is giving me that opportunity without having to sit on a list for God knows how many years until my dream can come true.”
“Giving you a hard time? Honey, I’m not giving you a hard time.”
“Mother, you just stood up, burst into tears, and ran from the room like I told you I was going to become a sex worker, or I don’t know, a marijuana tester.”
“Allison Marie,” my mom’s tone is once again reprimanding as is usual with the use of my full name. “You just told me that I was going to become a grandmother. That’s emotional business, especially after everything you’ve been through.”
Wait a second, what’s going on here? “You’re not mad at me? You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”
She shakes her head slowly before saying, “I love you, Allie. I know how hard you’ve tried to have a baby. I know the heartache you’ve been through. I’m thrilled for you! I’m thrilled for me and Dad!” Before I can absorb this, she asks, “Does this mean you’ll be staying here in Elk Lake?”
She sounds almost hopeful which is really screwing with what I thought I knew about her. “Do you want me to?”
Tears start to free flow down her cheeks. “I would love that above all else.”
I push my chair away from the table and lean forward to stop the dizzy sensation that’s overtaken me. “If you want me to live in Elk Lake then why are you always telling me to move back to Madison or Chicago? You’ve been trying to get rid of me ever since I came home.”
“No, she hasn’t,” my dad exclaims firmly. “Your mother didn’t even start talking about you moving until you’d been here for six months. At that point she started to worry that if you didn’t make a move you’d give up on your dreams altogether.”
My head is spinning like I’ve just ridden the Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair six times in a row. Believe me, you only make that mistake once. “What about me getting remarried?” I demand. “You’re always talking about me finding someone to share my life with.”
“That’s because I want you to have someone to share your life with. How is that wrong?”
“But you’re always saying that I need to find someone so I can have a family.” Talk your way out of that one, Margaret.
“That’s because that’s how I did it. I just assumed you’d do it the same way. But honey, you’ve found another way.”
I still can’t quite seem to wrap my head around what’s going on here. “And you’re happy about that?”
“I’m delighted!” She gets up from her chair and walks over to mine with her arms wide open. When I don’t stand quickly enough, she turns to Margie and offers her a hug.
Margie jumps up and practically throws herself into my mother’s arms. “Thank you for being happy,” she tells her. “More than anything, I’ve needed someone to be happy about this baby.”
“I’m so happy,” my mother tells her. “Thank you for my grandchild.”
I glance across the table at my dad, and he stands up to join the party. Once he arrives, he puts his hand out to me to help me up. Then he opens his arms and enfolds us all together. I have never in my whole life felt so much love and acceptance. I can’t imagine what Margie must be feeling.
Long moments pass before my mom steps aside. With a look of complete contentment on her face, she asks Margie, “Have you told your parents, dear?”
Margie shakes her head. “Not yet. We wanted to tell you first.”
“Do you think they’ll welcome you home once they know you’re not going to keep the baby?” she asks.
Margie sits back down at the table which signals us all to do the same. “I don’t think I want to go back there. My parents haven’t been very supportive, and I’m not ready to live with them again. I’m not sure I ever will be.”
“Then you’ll stay here!” my mom declares excitedly. “You can have Allie’s old room.”
“Mom,” I tell her. “Margie is staying with me.”
“On a fold-out couch,” she sneers. “That’s no place to get a good night sleep while you’re growing my grandchild.” She looks at my dad and orders, “We need to turn that room back into a proper bedroom for Margie. I’ll make a list.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted my parents are getting on board with all this, yet I can’t help but ask, “Why didn’t you turn it into a proper bedroom for me when I came home?” My marriage had ended horribly. You’d think I deserved a proper bedroom after that.
“I didn’t want you getting comfortable,” my mom tells me. “You have a big life ahead of you, Allie. That wasn’t going to happen if you were hiding out at home.” She motions toward Margie. “Look what moving out has already brought you! A new job and a baby!”
I know I should probably leave well enough alone, but I can’t help myself. I tell my mom, “I don’t have a man in my life.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I suppose that if you want one, you’ll get one at some point.”
“Just please make sure he isn’t anything like Brett,” my dad says. “We never liked him very much.”
Excuse me? “What do you mean you never liked him? You always acted like you did.”
“He was your choice, honey,” my mom says. “Your dad and I didn’t want to upset you by telling you that we didn’t think he was good enough for you.”
Has my whole life been a lie? What in the world is happening here? “I thought Brett was everything you ever wanted for me in a husband.”
“If it was up to me,” my mom says, “you would have fallen in love with someone who worshipped the ground you walked on, not tried to run rough shod over you.” I wasn’t even aware that he did that for years, which once again makes me doubt if I ever want another husband. What if my picker is broken?
“I would have chosen someone taller,” my dad contributes. “Also, I would have liked if he played golf, or any sport for that matter. It’s hard to trust a man who doesn’t have a sport.” I guess my dad isn’t counting Brett’s “mad” ping pong skills.
Before I can fully absorb their opinion of Brett, an image of Noah pops into my head.
My parents would have loved having him for a son-in-law.
Not only is he tall and sporty, but he treats me like I’m a queen.
He acts like everything I have to say is interesting and important. He looks at me like I hung the moon.
On impulse, I close my eyes and throw the universe the mother of all requests. I don’t know how, but you’ve made my dream of having a baby come true—would it be too much to ask to throw in the perfect man?