Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Maybe we shouldn’t go,” Becca said. “It’s too soon.”
“He’s four months old,” Jacob assured her as I ignored them both and touched my nose to Noah’s. Each time I pulled back he flashed a chubby cheeked smile. “Lindsey will take great care of him.”
The couple hadn’t been out on a real date since before the baby was born in early May. They deserved this. I’d even venture to say they needed it. Neither could probably remember the last time they had a conversation that wasn’t about poopy diapers or baby burps.
“Tell her,” I said, turning the baby around to face his mom. “We’re going to have a rave and it’s going to be awesome, but we can’t get the party started until you guys leave. So go already.”
Becca looked at Jacob. “She’s kidding, right?”
Baby brain was a real thing. “Of course, I am. The truth is we’re going to watch trashy reality TV, and the little one here will be out by seven. Now you crazy kids go have a good time so little man and I can get our night started.”
Since Becca’s mom took on baby duty when Becca went back to work, I’d had very little alone time with the butter bean, as I liked to call him. This was my chance to squish his cheeks and get all the cuddles I could stand. At least until he passed out in an hour.
With little enthusiasm, she picked up her purse and rushed over to drop a kiss on Noah’s forehead. “I pumped so there’s plenty of bottles in the fridge. Remember to warm it up, but not too hot.”
She acted like I didn’t have a bazillion nieces and nephews, whom I watched all the time. At least until they got old enough to have opinions of their own. Then I only watched the ones who were smart enough to see me as the cool aunt.
“Yes, I know. You typed up all of the instructions, emailed them to me yesterday, and posted a copy on the refrigerator door. We’ve got this.” To Jacob, I said, “Please, drag your wife out of this apartment.”
He kissed the baby before grabbing Becca’s hand. “You know she’s going to call you in half an hour.”
I laughed. “She’ll never make it that long.”
“You don’t need to talk about me like I’m not here.” Becca smoothed down Noah’s hair and sighed. “Are you sure you’ve got this?”
“Absolutely sure.” I held Noah in the air and he kicked his legs and squealed in delight “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll send pictures every fifteen minutes so you won’t have to worry, okay?”
Relief softened her expression. “That would help.”
I rose and leaned the baby on my shoulder. “Consider it done.” After kissing her cheek, I turned so she could kiss her son one more time. “Now go have fun with your hunky husband.”
Jacob laughed. “I don’t know about hunky.”
The man could literally be cast as the hot lead in a Korean drama tomorrow. “Hunky and humble. Get out of here before you miss your dinner reservation.”
“We have reservations?” Becca said as they finally headed toward the door.
I couldn’t hear anything beyond that as the door clicked shut behind them. Plopping the baby between two pillows on the couch, I pulled out my phone.
“Okay, little guy. Let’s snap a bunch of pictures now while you’re still happy, because we both know the tears are coming in ten minutes when you realize your mommy is gone.”
I had ninety minutes before bed time, which meant at least five shots. I took six just to be safe. With each pic we changed location. From the couch to the floor to the automatic swing to the vibrating seat. Had to throw in a furball one, though getting the family cat Milo to cooperate wasn’t easy. I put Noah in sunglasses for the last one, and Donna would have been impressed how quickly I caught the shot before he whipped those bad boys back off.
By the time the pics were taken, the diaper needed changing. Then little man started sucking on his fist and I knew what that meant. His patience grew thin as I heated the bottle, but once the plug was in his mouth, he was happy again. In no time we were sprawled on the couch watching spoiled rich people throw drinks at each other, and at six fifty-five on the dot, Noah’s eyes drooped shut.
After ten exhausting days at school, I was tempted to pass out myself, but I had research to do. Once Noah was tucked into his bassinette—placed not far from the couch for safe watching—I turned off the television, dimmed the lights, and pulled out my laptop.
What play could I choose that would bring more kids to the club? A modern piece, for sure. Something relevant. Dear, Evan Hanson had music, so that was out. I typed the phrase modern plays to perform in high school into the search engine and got several options I didn’t recognize. Sticking with the tried and true musicals had thrown me out of the loop on anything new.
Skimming the summaries, the fourth one down caught my attention. Small town setting, modern day, and lots of teen angst with very real and relevant themes. Social media bullying, group think, fitting in vs standing up for what you believe in, and uncertainty about the future.
Clicking for more details, the site said an eight to ten piece ensemble with minimal sets and, based on the character descriptions, the kids could pretty much wear their own clothes. That would mean less investment up front and the potential for an actual profit at the end.
The rights fee fit my budget, which made the decision an easy one.
“Okay, then,” I whispered aloud. “We’re going with Choices .”
“Ma, Joey touched me again.”
“Babka, Lucy won’t give me the ball.”
“I’ll eat after one more game!”
I loved my nieces and nephews. I truly did. But I also understood why some animals ate their young.
As a teacher, most people assumed I was a kid person. Au contraire. I taught high school juniors and seniors for a reason. They were as close to adults as I could get without having to become a professor. Which led to another wrong assumption made about teachers. We didn’t all love academia. At least not at the peer reviewed papers, college bureaucracy level.
My brothers and sisters—Janet, Joe, Alex, and Frankie—along with their significant others more than made up for my lack of reproduction. Between them, they’d blessed my parents with eight grandchildren. So far, at least. Frankie, the baby of the family, had his first a year ago and no doubt would keep adding more. His wife Vivie also came from a big family and had stated more than once that she couldn’t wait to have a houseful of her own.
More power to her.
All of this provided me the cover I needed to scoot under the radar. The age old When are you going to get married? question stopped around the time of Frankie and Vivie’s wedding. Once the youngest was hitched, people took for granted that we all were and that was fine by me.
“Aunt Lindsey, can you open this for me?” asked Amelia, Joe’s four-year-old.
“Sure thing, squirt,” I said, stabbing the pointy straw into the juice pack.
We were gathered for Labor Day at Janet’s house. She was the premier hostess of the family. Her backyard was the only one big enough for the whole bunch, and she’d inherited Babka Maja’s love of feeding people. Folks thought Italian grandmothers were the food pushers, but the Poles were just as pushy.
By the age of ten, I’d eaten enough pierogi for a lifetime, and enough cabbage rolls—or golabki as Maja called them—to resemble one. Some put on that Freshman fifteen, but not me. I lost fifteen pounds my first year at college. When Maja saw me that Christmas, she feared I had a horrible disease and was wasting away.
From then on, every time anyone drove over to see me at Penn State, they came with a pan of food from Maja. My dormmates looked forward to the visits more than I did because they knew they’d get real food for once. Sadly, Babka Maja passed away four years ago, but her food and her love of family lived on in all of us.
The food part mostly in Janet.
“How is Becca’s little one?” asked Vivie, sitting on the lawn chair beside me and swaying her one-year-old from side to side. His eyes were closing, though I had no idea how he could sleep through the cacophony echoing around us.
“Noah’s good. Cutest baby ever, present company notwithstanding.” Frankie Jr. gave out and his head fell against his mom’s arm. “How does he do that?” I asked.
She glanced down to look at her sleeping son. “I have no idea, but he can sleep anywhere. Last week he slept through the entire church service. We were in the baby room, but since he was so quiet and the other children weren’t, I went back into the sanctuary. He never made a peep.”
I’d be worried if I hadn’t seen him wide awake plenty of times and knew he possessed as much energy as the rest of the brood.
Lowering her voice, she said, “What about you?”
Odd question. “Me? I can sleep well enough. I have more of an issue with light than with noise.”
Vivie laughed. “No, I mean what about you and kids? Don’t you want one of your own?”
With my friends all pairing up, I’d actually given this some thought. “It’s not that I don’t want kids,” I said. “I don’t want a spouse, and that has traditionally been the first step to getting kids. At least in this family.” Because I liked my sister-in-law and she seemed to be the progressive type, I added, “Maybe someday I’ll use a donor and try to have one if I really feel the urge, but that’s highly unlikely.”
“You could adopt,” she suggested. “You’d be a fantastic mom.”
She had to be joking. “That’s doubtful.”
Vivie looked offended on my behalf. “Why would you say that? I’ve watched you with all of these kids.” She tipped her chin in the direction of the heathens taking turns on the inflatable water slide. “No matter what age, you’re great with them. Plus, you’re a teacher. Kids are your life.”
I was way more selfish than she realized. “Not really. I love teaching, but I also love when I’m not teaching. I sleep in on weekends, eat cereal for dinner, and you could probably run a chem lab with samples from my pantry.”
To my surprise, she did not look concerned. “The sleeping in would probably go away, but the rest is whatever. All a kid needs is love and kindness and a good person they know will protect them. You’re one of the best people I know, and the most protective sibling Frankie has.”
Threaten a girl one time and she holds it against you for life.
“Also,” she went on, “who doesn’t love breakfast for dinner? Nothing wrong with that. Oh, and don’t tell your mother, but baby Frankie gets more screen time than she’d approve of. He isn’t watching twenty-four-seven, but when I’m desperate for a half hour to recharge, I load up some YouTube videos and he’s happy as can be.”
Mom was very much against screens these days. She’d put the five of us in front of the television plenty when we were kids, so where this hypocritical stance came from I had no idea.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
“Hey, Linds!” called my brother Joe from the back porch. “Come here a minute.”
“What does he want?” I mumbled.
Vivie grabbed a chip from the paper plate between us. “I don’t know, but better you than me.”
Joe was a bit of a blowhard. The joke among the women in the family was that we wouldn’t be surprised to find his picture next to the word mansplaining in the dictionary. His wife, Gloria, didn’t find the joke funny, so we made sure to mention it as often as possible whenever she was around. Gloria was the female version of my brother, and they both thought a lot of themselves.
The rest of us did not.
Accepting the inevitable, I crossed the yard and climbed the steps up onto the porch. “What’s up?”
“This is Owen,” Joe said, gesturing toward the stranger beside him. “He’s an accountant.”
Unsure what I was supposed to do with this information, I said, “Good for him.”
“Yinz should talk.”
Not outside of tax season, we shouldn’t. “Why?”
“’Cause he’s a nice guy,” Joe said. “And he’s single.”
Was he really attempting to set me up with a random guy at a family function ? The accountant looked nice enough, with light brown hair, muted blue eyes, and a lanky body that could have meant marathon runner or severely asthmatic, but nice guy was how some serial killers had been described, so I was going to need more information.
“And?” I asked.
Joe shifted from one foot to the other. “And what?”
“Besides being nice and single, why should I talk to him?”
The poor guy looked extremely uncomfortable with this exchange, and had yet to speak. In fact, he looked to be shrinking the longer this went on. I had nothing against him, but I had everything against my brother for putting us through this.
“Why you bein’ difficult?”
“You want me to spend time with a complete stranger. I don’t think getting a few more details is too much to ask.”
I heard a snicker beside me and looked over to find my sister, Alex, trying not to laugh. I also spotted Gloria roll her eyes with great disapproval.
“What’s the harm in talking to him?” my sister-in-law asked with a huff.
“What if he kills me, Gloria? Have you thought about that?”
The stranger finally joined the conversation. “I’d never kill anyone.”
Turning his way, I said, “No offense, but that’s exactly what a killer would say.”
Alex choked as Gloria mumbled, “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“You know what?” Joe said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Forget it. Owen, she doesn’t deserve you.”
“That’s not nice,” Alex cut in.
“He isn’t wrong,” I said. As Gloria escorted Owen off the porch, I assured him, “You’re dodging a bullet, buddy.”
Alex poked me in the arm. “Quit. He’d be lucky to have you.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but I doubt it. I’d eat him alive.”
We watched the threesome go, and she said, “You’re probably right. He did seem nice though.”
“Who is he except Owen the accountant?”
“New coworker in Gloria’s office. I have a feeling she brought him for you, but didn’t bother to tell him that.”
Taking a seat on the porch swing, I said, “What gives you that idea?”
My sister flashed a smile. “Because when I talked to him inside, he showed me a picture of him and his boyfriend at Kennywood last month.”
Now it was my turn to laugh. “Are you serious? The poor guy got ambushed more than I did.”
Shading her eyes, Alex looked out over the yard. “He could probably give us the dirt on what Gloria is really like at work. We should corner him if given the chance.”
This was a plan I could get behind. “Do you think he’d tell us the truth?”
“After that embarrassment? I’m sure of it.”
“Good point.”
Watching the target across the yard, I caught him rolling his eyes when Gloria wasn’t looking. It seemed like a safe bet that her coworkers didn’t like her any more than we did.