17. Tilly
TILLY
“That’s it. I’m moving in here. I’m finally home.” Izzy stands near the fountains in the middle of Macy’s on State Street. She gazes up at the escalators and numerous floors and spins in a slow circle. “This must be what heaven’s like.”
Suzy snorts. “You’re being overly dramatic.”
Izzy points upward. “How many floors do we have at our Macy’s, Suzy?”
“Two.”
“This store has seven.” Izzy grabs Suzy’s arm. “Seven.”
“You two can stand here all day gawking and arguing, but I have some serious shopping to do.” Max steps onto the escalator and gives a small wave. “I’m heading to the shoe department, and I may never leave.”
We follow behind Max, because everyone loves shoes, and there’s no better place in downtown Chicago to feed a shoe addiction than Macy’s on State.
“I don’t have any room in my suitcase,” Race whines as we make our way to the second floor.
“Babe,” Izzy says with a hint of laughter. “Ship the shit home.” Then Izzy’s eyes widen as she reaches down and grips my hand while she cranes her neck upward. “Oh my God. They still have the Walnut Room?”
“Yeah,” I say like I know what I’m talking about, but I don’t have the slightest idea why the Walnut Room is a big deal.
“Ladies, we’re doing lunch and drinks first. Seventh floor,” Izzy tells the group. “If we eat now, we can shop until we drop.”
I’m already exhausted, and we’ve barely stepped foot in the store, let alone shopped for hours. But I’ve learned quickly this isn’t a group you say no to, especially now that they’re family.
Within minutes, we’re seated at a large table in the center of the Walnut Room. It’s a grand space with dark wood and wrought iron.
“It’s just as I remember it,” Izzy says, holding her menu but not bothering to look at it. She’s too busy taking in the timeless beauty of the restaurant.
“It never changed much over the years,” Bianca says, glancing around the space like Izzy. “My father always brought us here the day after Thanksgiving.”
“Mine too,” Izzy says quickly. “We always took the train downtown and spent all day shopping, with lunch at the Walnut Room to see the Christmas tree.”
I can’t imagine growing up near a store like this or near a big city. The town I grew up in had very few stores with a small city center. The shopping was dismal at best, and the restaurants didn’t require more than jeans as proper attire.
My parents’ idea of a day after Thanksgiving shopping spree was a few hours in Kmart, waiting for the next blue light special. We didn’t have fancy department stores or swanky restaurants within a hundred miles of our small Georgia town.
“Do you miss Chicago?” I ask Izzy.
She shakes her head. “A small part of me still feels like this is home, but I could never leave the blue skies and sandy beaches for all the traffic and cement.”
“Why don’t you go to college here, kid?” Izzy says to Gigi when she finally puts her phone down.
Gigi’s eyes widen. “It snows here, Auntie. I would wither away and die here. My body needs sunshine to live.”
“You’re just as overdramatic as Izzy,” Max snorts.
“We get sunshine, Gigi,” Daphne tells her. “It’s cold as fuck in the winter, but we get some sunny days.”
“Some?” Gigi gasps. “Well, that changes everything.” She pauses for a moment, giving Daphne a lopsided smile. “Not.”
“The boys are hot here,” Delilah says like that’s enough to make the girl change her mind.
Gigi shakes her head and laughs. “There’re some pretty boys, but I like mine a little more on the…”
“Don’t say it.” Suzy covers her mouth as if the mere thought of her daughter being attracted to someone makes her ill.
“Ma, come on. Look around.” Gigi motions to the people in the restaurant. “You know my type, and this isn’t it.”
“You like the country boys?” I ask, remembering my fascination with rugged country boys and their badass pickup trucks.
I always thought I’d marry a country boy and live on a farm, surrounded by acres of animals and forest. But that didn’t seem to be part of my plan.
Now I have a tiny patch of grass in one of the biggest cities in the US.
Although Angelo has the manly man thing nailed, he most certainly is not a redneck.
“I don’t like them so pretty, more a little rough around the edges.”
“Then why are you dating that dipshit?” Angel asks, twirling a piece of her dark red hair around her finger. “’Cause you’re describing your daddy, and that kid—whatever the fuck his name is—is most certainly not.”
Gigi gags a little. “I don’t like men like my father. That’s just ew, Auntie Angel, and his name is Keith, by the way.”
“He’s a needy fucker, kid,” Izzy tells her. “What are you going to do when you go away to college?”
Gigi pushes her brown hair off her shoulder and straightens her back. “I’m going to school in Florida, and Keith’s going away to California. We know we won’t be able to do the long-distance thing and that our time is limited.”
“Thank fuck,” Suzy whispers into her menu, pretending to be more interested in the food than what her daughter’s saying.
“I plan to spend my summers at Inked, learning the shop and business side of things so I can take over someday. I won’t have time for a relationship, at least nothing serious, so I put up with Keith’s neediness because I know we have an end date.”
“It’s probably the only reason your daddy hasn’t killed the kid either,” Max says. “Oh my god. They have chicken potpie.”
And like that, the conversation changes.
“Ladies, what can I get you to drink?” the waiter asks as he stands at the end of the table.
Everyone orders wine, except Gigi and Bianca, which doesn’t go unnoticed as there’s a moment of awkward silence after the waiter walks away.
“So, how far along are you?” Mia asks, staring at Bianca from across the table.
The awkward silence is back as Bianca’s mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. All eyes are on her, waiting for an answer.
“It’s a secret,” I say, answering for her. “They don’t want anyone to know.”
“No one can know,” Bianca says with all the color drained from her face. “Not yet.”
“Why?” Izzy asks.
“Because my parents will go crazy. We’re not married yet.”
Mia chuckles. “You’re not going to be able to hide it much longer, so be ready to make the announcement and don’t worry about the blowback.”
“You’re engaged for Christ’s sake,” Delilah says and shakes her head. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Maybe you two should elope, then you can say you were married when it happened,” I add.
Bianca gasps. “We have to get married at St. Catherine’s.”
Izzy shakes her head. “Elope and then renew your vows at St. Catherine’s after you spill the news to your parents that you’re preggers and already married.”
Bianca’s hand covers her stomach. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, you two better think quick because you’re running out of time. I was as big as a whale when I was pregnant,” Daphne says, giving the waiter a quick nod as he places a wineglass in front of her.
“Are we ready to order?” he asks.
Bianca looks relieved that the conversation is over and our attention is elsewhere. I don’t envy her—not her youth or owing an explanation to her parents about getting knocked up before taking her vows.
“You two already working on my next niece or nephew?” Daphne asks.
“We’ve gone over this before, Daphne. If it happens, it happens.” I shrug, but there’s a part of me that wants to scream yes from the rooftops. “If not, that’s okay too. We have Tate and Brax, and they’re more than a handful.”
“You’re past the dreaded diaper phase. I wouldn’t start over if I were you,” Delilah says, placing her hand over mine. “You get the joy of having kids without the stretch marks and weak bladder. Count yourself lucky.”
“Your body is tight and perky,” Max says. “Enjoy the hell out of that.”
I wouldn’t call my body either of those words, but it’s nice to hear. “Oh, please. It’s not like you guys have saggy tits and stomach pouches.”
“It’s amazing what good underwear and a killer bra can do.” Mia laughs. “Don’t let the polished exterior fool you. When I get naked, everything heads for the floor.”
“Jesus, I found a gray pube last week, too. I nearly died,” Izzy says, and I jerk my head back at the candor of her words.
“Gross, Auntie. Don’t talk about such things. That doesn’t really happen, does it?” Gigi looks absolutely horrified.
Suzy’s holding her face in her hands, muttering into her palm as she shakes her head, but that doesn’t stop the conversation from happening.
“Gigi.” Izzy straightens her back and leans over the table, dropping her voice. “As you get older, every bit of hair you have turns gray.”
Gigi blanches. “Oh, dear God. What do you do?”
“Wax, tweeze, or let it happen,” Izzy says casually as she picks up her wine and takes a sip.
“Girl, you can’t tweeze them. Jesus. Do you know how painful that is?” Angel grimaces.
“I know firsthand, chick. Shit is awful.”
“I always thought of you as a Brazilian type of woman,” Max adds like we’re talking about dresses and not the hair around our vaginas.
Izzy drags her hand down her face. “I used to be, but then I stopped when I got pregnant and just never went back. But it looks like I’m about to restart my standing appointment again because gray pubes are not happening.”
Gigi picks up her phone, trying to hide her shocked and disgusted face. “I can’t listen to this anymore. You guys are freaking me out.”
“Someday, when you find your first gray hair, you’ll remember this conversation, sweetie.” Izzy gives her niece a smile. “Trust me, experiencing it is way more horrifying than hearing about it.”
“I’m not listening,” Gigi sings into her phone screen. “This is way too much information and oversharing from all of you, not to mention gross and the things nightmares of made of.”
Aging is a nightmare. No one tells you that shit when you’re young.
They’re too busy telling you how fabulous your thirties and forties are to give you the real truth.
How things move south, tits and ass included, and how your skin starts to look more like crumpled tissue paper than the supple silk it used to.
“I have an idea,” Daphne says, thankfully rescuing us from the topic of aging. “Why don’t you guys get married at city hall this week while the family is all here?”
Delilah claps her hands together. “That’s a great idea. Come on, Bianca. We’ll find you the perfect dress today, and you can be married before the weekend.”
“I don’t know. I’d have to talk to Vinnie about it.”
“He’ll say yes,” Daphne tells her. “He’s practically jumping out of his skin to slip that ring on your finger.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Bianca smiles, still resting her hand on her stomach. “I’m sick of hiding the pregnancy.”
“You may be hiding it from your parents, but we all kind of knew,” I say.
“Your tits alone give it away.” Daphne laughs.
Bianca’s eyes widen as her head tips downward toward her breasts. “They’re freakishly large.”
“Everything is supersized when you’re pregnant. Just wait. Those babies aren’t done growing, and neither is your ass.” Delilah smirks. “Lucio loved my pregnant body.”
“Again, TMI,” Gigi announces with her eyebrows drawn together and her fingers busy on her phone.
All the talk of pregnancy has my mind reeling and a small part of my chest aching to understand what they experienced. The feeling of a baby moving inside my body. The moment you first hold your baby in your arms, knowing you created a small human.
So many things I missed out on after losing Mitchell.
Years of my life gone, but not wasted. I’d met Angelo because of those years spent alone.
Having a baby with Mitchell would’ve been hard.
He was barely home, and even when he wasn’t deployed, he was constantly busy with work and prepping for the next mission.
I would’ve been essentially a single mother, and I don’t know how I would’ve handled his death with a little one to look after.
I was barely able to look after myself, let alone another person who would’ve depended on me for everything.
A small sliver of me is jealous of these women. They never experienced the complete anguish of losing the man they loved, but they knew the joy of having a baby. I’m not sure they really understood how very blessed they were. I wasn’t cursed, but my life had never taken an easy path.