Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
T he next morning, my eyes feel like I’ve been rubbing them with sandpaper all night long. And since these are off-brand tissues, maybe I’m not far off with my assessment. I sit up, my head throbbing as I do so, and throw off the covers. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to face this day. But I’m not going to sit around and wallow in my own self-pity, as appealing as that sounds.
I head to the bathroom first, making a point not to stare at my reflection too long because I’m not going to like what I see. In the mirror, I see the face of a person who didn’t sleep a wink. There’s the telltale bags under my eyes, the red-rimmed eyelids, and sallow skin. I also see the face of someone who should’ve kept her mouth shut last night.
Why did I have to bring up Justin’s schedule? Why did I have to add fuel to his fire? I have no explanation other than I was being a brat and felt the need to defend myself. I shouldn’t have said what I did.
Justin was right. I should’ve been upfront with my friends because there’s nothing to be ashamed of. His career choice is a noble one, and I should be proud of him—which I am. I just hope that with enough time, we can talk about what was said and move on from here. No matter what, we’re connected now, forever intertwined. Whether or not we continue our romantic involvement, I’ll leave that up to him. Maybe he thinks our differences can’t be overcome.
From my closet, I grab the nearest sweatshirt and sweatpants and head to the kitchen for something to eat. Since I only ate half my meal last night, my stomach is already grumbling. Fern is in the kitchen at this early hour, and the scent of whatever she’s making elicits a roar from my stomach, loud enough for her to hear.
“I take it you’re hungry?” she says with a laugh.
“A little bit. I didn’t eat much last night,” I say, sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs.
“Is something wrong?” she asks while stirring a pot on the stove. “You didn’t say anything when you came home last night, and you didn’t seem like your usual self.” A line forms between Fern’s brows, and I know she’s trying to figure out what happened.
“I really put my foot in it with Justin. And Chelsea and Lorelei didn’t help things either.”
“You’re going to have to explain,” Fern says.
So she has a better understanding of the situation, I give her the breakdown of everything that happened last night, starting from when we entered the restaurant. I don’t miss a single detail because they’re all permanently etched on my brain. But I don’t like the look on her face when I tell her what I said in the car last night. She doesn’t say it, but I know she’s thinking that I screwed up royally.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I say, inwardly cringing while I await her response.
“It’s bad. But it’s not this-can’t-be-saved bad. What you said wasn’t fair, but it just brought to light your frustration with his hectic schedule. And while I know his schedule can’t be helped, maybe he needed to hear that what you’re really wanting is to be able to spend more time with him. It was worded very poorly, but that’s all you’re asking for.”
“Do you think we can salvage things?”
“Of course. I don’t think this is the end for you two. I mean, it can’t be, right?” she says with a laugh. She’s making light of me being pregnant, and I should be mad that she’s doing so, but her joke makes me chuckle.
“You’re hilarious,” I say with an eye roll.
“But as for your friends…I think they should apologize to him. It wasn’t right of them to make him feel awkward, especially since that was the first time they met him. From what you said, they acted like Justin was a trained assassin, or something like that. Being an ob-gyn is far from the weirdest profession for someone to have.”
“I know,” I say, nodding along. “You’re right. They acted like total idiots last night, and their behavior was uncalled for. They need to make it right.”
“Well, now that we got that out of the way, do you have any plans for today?”
“You mean other than moping around the house and feeling sorry for myself?”
“Yeah, you’re not going to do that. You’re going to have breakfast with me this morning, then you’re going to take a shower and make yourself presentable because right now, you look like a train wreck. Then you and I are going to go shopping,” Fern says, propping a hand on her hip.
“Do I get a say in this?” I’m pretending like I’m irritated at her planning my whole day for me, but really, I’m grateful for some direction. I definitely need something to occupy my time, and it seems as though Fern understands this and that’s why she’s being so bossy.
She shakes her head. “No, you don’t get a say. That’s what’s happening and that’s final.” She gets two bowls from the cupboard and spoons hot cereal into them. Then she tosses some blueberries on top and places one in front of me, setting the other bowl across the table for herself.
I dip my spoon into the bowl. “Did you make this oatmeal like Mom?”
“With tons of brown sugar and butter?” she asks, flashing me a smile. “Of course. Anything else would just feel wrong.”
I love that Fern knows just what to do to cheer me up. “Thank you for this. It means a lot to me.”
Later that morning, Fern and I are browsing the shelves of a local book store. I already went through the mystery and thrillers section and found a few gems to take home. But now, Fern and I are looking through the parenting books.
“What do you think? Are you more of a Taming Your Spirited Child or a Firm Hand, Obedient Child kind of a parent?” she asks, holding up two books.
I let out a giggle. “Neither. They both sound terrifying.”
“Okay. What about Hands Off: Letting Your Child Lead the Way ? Apparently, it’s a book on how to parent by not actually parenting. Your child makes the decisions.”
“And how does a baby make decisions?” I ask, because I’m genuinely curious.
“Duh. They cry, and then you feed or change them,” she says, like she’s an expert on the topic.
I shake my head. “No thanks. That just sounds like a bad idea.”
“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug. “I do think you need this one though.” She pulls out an informational pregnancy book that gives week-by-week descriptions of everything that’s going to happen during my pregnancy.
I take the book from her and start flipping through it. “Look, according to this, my baby is now ten millimeters long, if I have my weeks correct.” I read on, completely fascinated by what’s happening in my body.
“That’s amazing. Put that book on the pile. We’re definitely buying it.”
“I thought I’d find you girls back in this section,” a familiar voice says from the end of the aisle. I turn and see Mom’s beaming smile staring back at me. I rush over to give her a hug. She squeezes me tightly, rubbing her hand up and down my back in a soothing way. It’s like I’m five years old again, and I’m coming to her for comfort after I’ve skinned my knee.
“How did you know we were going to be here?” I ask.
“Your sister called me while you were taking a shower. She told me what had happened, and she filled me in on your plan for the day. You don’t mind me crashing your outing, do you?”
“Not at all,” I say.
Mom holds my gaze. “Whenever you want to talk, I’m here for you. If you can’t stop by, I’m just a phone call away. Don’t forget that, okay?”
“Thanks. Fern has been a great sounding board,” I say, looking over at my sister. “But I could always use some motherly advice.”
“There’s a baby store within walking distance from here,” Mom says. “I’ll go pay for these books and then we can head over there.”
“It’s a little early for that kind of shopping, don’t you think?” Fern asks. “She’s not that far along.”
Mom throws her a half-hearted glare. “It’s never too early for baby shopping. Don’t you dare deny me my right as a future grandparent. Besides, we’re just looking. No one said I was going to buy anything—yet.”
Fern holds her hands up in a mock surrender. “Okay. Point taken. Go ahead and look all you want.”
Fern and I carry the stack of books to the counter and Mom pays for them. These books are too heavy to lug around all afternoon, so we drop them off in Fern’s car, then walk to the baby store in the neighboring shopping complex. This shopping district is full of a bunch of high-end stores, and this baby boutique is no exception. The first thing that catches my eye isn’t the cute décor and color-coordinated furnishings, it’s the high prices.
“Two thousand dollars for a crib?” I ask, staring at the price tag in disbelief. “How does anyone afford to have a baby?”
“It doesn’t have to be that expensive,” Mom says. “I’m pretty sure I got you girls’ crib secondhand for twenty-five dollars.”
“You hear that, Dahlia? Mom didn’t care enough about us to buy a new crib. The thing was probably held together with duct tape and string,” Fern says with a chuckle.
Mom rolls her eyes. “You know that’s not true. I bought it from a neighbor down the street, so it’s not like I got it from just anywhere. And there’s nothing wrong with buying used baby items. They grow so fast anyway, so why spend the money if you don’t need to?”
As we walk the perimeter of the store, I say, “I don’t think I’m going to be getting any of my baby items from here. Even the clothes are expensive.” One outfit is fifty dollars, and that’s on sale from seventy. I wouldn’t spend seventy dollars on a shirt for myself that I’d get many years out of, so I’m sure as heck not going to spend it on my child when they’d only wear it for maybe a month.
Mom senses my mood shift and places her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be discouraged. You can find cute baby items at much cheaper places, and you’ll have a baby shower too, so you’ll get a lot of what you need from there.”
“I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to afford any of it,” I say.
“Things will work out. I know they will. Come on,” Mom says, nodding toward the door. “Let’s get out of here and go get some lunch.”
Over some sandwiches and chips from a nearby deli, Mom finally gets to the real reason she came out today.
“So tell me what happened with Justin,” Mom says, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Fern told me a little bit, but I want to hear it from you.”
It’s still early in the afternoon, so luckily, there aren’t many patrons to hear my relationship woes. Fern is the only other person in here within earshot, and she’s already heard everything. “He met my friends last night, and it didn’t go well. They were shocked by him being an ob-gyn, which is my fault because I should’ve told them in advance. He brought it up in the car and said that if I’m embarrassed by his profession, then it’s best we find out now before things get too far. That’s when I lashed out and told him that our baby needs someone who’s going to be there and not someone who’s going to cancel all the time.”
“And you don’t think he’s going to be there?” Mom asks, genuinely concerned.
“I think he’ll be there when the baby comes. I just wish we were able to spend more time together now,” I say.
“What kind of advice did you give?” she asks Fern, who is sitting right next to me in this booth.
Fern’s posture straightens, finally being asked to contribute. “I told her to be patient. His schedule will balance out eventually. And I told her that her friends should apologize to him.”
Mom nods, agreeing with Fern’s advice. “Your sister is right. You’re not being fair to him. He’s worked very hard to get to where he is, and all he needs from you is a little patience. Did you apologize to him?”
“Immediately after I said it. But he didn’t acknowledge it because he was too hurt by what I had said.”
“How did you two meet again?” Mom asks, then takes a sip of her water.
Fern lets out a snicker because only she knows how Justin and I met. But do I want my mother to know all the details of our relationship? Might as well get it out there.
“We met at a bar and had a one-night stand. And that’s how this came to be,” I say, patting my stomach. I stare across the table at our mother, waiting for the shock to come. Waiting for the look of oh, my God, you what ?
Instead, Mom just shrugs. “Like mother, like daughter, I guess.”
Fern’s and my jaw drops. She and I turn toward one another. Did that really just come out of our mother’s mouth?
“You what?” Fern asks.
“Your father and I met at a bar and we had a one-night stand. Unfortunately, that pregnancy resulted in a miscarriage, but that’s what brought the two of us together. And all these years later, I wouldn’t change a thing. So just because that’s how you and Justin met and were thrust together, that doesn’t mean you two won’t last,” she explains.
Fern’s body is twitching, and she’s struggling to keep a straight face. “Did you use the word thrust on purpose, because it feels like you did?”
“Shut up,” Mom says, rolling her eyes. She may sound irritated, but she can’t keep the grin off her face.
“I never would’ve guessed that’s how you and Dad met,” I say, ignoring Fern’s juvenile behavior.
Mom nods. “We never told you girls because it’s not something that needs to be said. Your dad and I love each other, and that’s all that matters. Sure, we had our fair share of issues, just like all couples. And when Fern was born, we took a financial hit because I chose to stay at home. So that was tough.”
“But I’ve seen how connected you two are even after all of that, which gives me hope,” I say.
Mom gives me a smile. “You two will be fine, honey. Just give it time.”