In my room that night, after we dropped Mary off at home, I had a good long chance to think.
“I guess I wasn't expecting Mom to get pregnant.” I said this to no one when I went out onto the balcony. It was a clear night, and the sky glittered with stars. The moon had yet to peek over the mountains, so it was pretty dark out. Only a hint of smoke smell remained in my room.
“I mean,” I said, “she's miscarried all the other babies she's tried to have.”
I had lost count, but I knew there were at least five miscarriages after I was born. Those Mom had spoken to me about. I remembered her talking to me a year or two before, when we still saw things the same way. She had been so sad.
“Laurie,” she had said. “I really wanted a big family.” We were in her studio, where she fashioned a little girl with fat cheeks, wearing only a diaper, from clay to be bronzed. Eventually this, too, would be added to her collection.
“I'm sorry, Mom.” I breathed deep the smells of the orange clay and watched Mom's slender hands smooth the child's skin. I felt sort of sorry for my mother. A baby would have been a nice thing to have around the house.
But I felt a little guilty, too. I kind of liked being an only child. I had all Mom's attention. I worked clay with her. She taught me to draw. We went places together—did stuff. It was a nice life. For sure a baby would change all that.
I thought, as I sat on my little balcony, how lonely Mom must have been for another child. I mean, to try so many times. And now at such an old age. Good grief, she was nearly forty. If you ask me, the 5 word should be saved for the young. Not my age, but definitely not my mother's, either. For people on television.
I watched the moon rise and in the darkness of the evening tried to follow the bats flying after mosquitoes. I thought of Mom and Dad, down the hall, doing It. I thought of the baby Mom carried. I thought of her almost burning our house down.
Yes, I had liked being the only child in the Stephan home. But I was tired of carrying this burden alone. If Mom and Dad had succeeded in having other babies, I would have been sharing this awful moment with a sibling. One that I am sure would have loved me and would pretty much have done everything I wanted him to do. Including hating the thought, like I did, of our mother being pregnant at the very old age of thirty-eight.
I pulled out my list.
things to change about MYMOTHER!!!!!!!
11. She's been doing It, very possibly here in the house.
(My face turned red when I wrote this.)
There wasn't much I could do about Mom's pregnant state. Pretty soon everyone at church and in the neighborhood would know that she and Dad were active. You'd think there would be a law about people as old as they are doing… well, you know.
It took me a week and a half before I could look at Mom and Dad without thinking how Mom ended up pregnant.
It didn't seem to bother anyone in the neighborhood except me. Mary told her parents and they were both excited, probably because there are six kids in their family and they are used to, well, you know. Then Mary told Christian when the three of us were playing a short game of basketball.
“Cool, Laura,” Christian said. “A baby. Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?” He brushed his sandy blond hair out of his face.
“Yeah,” I said, and then missed the next three shots. I usually win at that game too. Dad says I have a good eye and he's not sure where it came from, 'cause he's never played any athletic game in his life.
Later Quinn found out Mom was pregnant and said, “Tell her I said congrats.”
My face turned red anytime anyone said anything about it, and the news spread like wildfire.
A couple of ladies from church came and visited Mom. They wanted to have a baby shower for her, they said. Our next-door neighbor Wendy Smith brought over dinner “just because.” And to make matters worse, Mom seemed to glow.
I mean it. She got this cheery look on her face, and her cheeks always seemed to be pink. And then she tried to get chummy with me. She started asking me to do things with her. “Let's go to lunch, Laurie,” or “Let me read this picture book to you, honey, to see if you think the new baby will like it,” or “I'm going to try to learn how to knit, want to try too?”
It was sickening.
One afternoon Mom called me down from my room. I was reading Dinah Forever, by a lady named Claudia Mills. I was actually laughing at the things Dinah was going through. I kind of felt like her—pretty, smart, a new sibling. Well, almost for me.
“Laurie,” Mom called. “I need you a second.”
I put my Dinah book down and let out an aggravated sigh. I stomped all the way to the living room, where Mom and Dad waited.
“What are you doing home from work?” I asked Dad. He usually isn't home until six or so. Unless there's a fire, of course. Anyway, he works in American Fork, and it always takes him a little while to get here.
“Two reasons,” Dad said. He raised both pointer fingers. “First of all, we're going to see the ultrasound today.” Dad reached over and patted Mom's belly. My face went red.
“Don't do that,” I said. I looked toward the bay window. Outside the sun shone. A slight breeze moved the aspen trees, making the leaves shiver.
“Do what?” Dad asked.
“Don't pat Mom's… area.”
Dad grinned. I have to admit that my father is very attractive. He may be a computer geek, but he looks great. His hair is thick and wavy and an almost blond color. His eyes are deep brown. He has a few freckles. All my girlfriends are always telling me how good looking he is. But then he does something like open his mouth and I am, most of the time, horrified.
“I'm patting the baby, Laura Anne,” he said. “Your baby brother or baby sister is nestled in the protective area”—he emphasized the word area—“of the womb, or uterus. He or she is floating in amniotic fluid and appreciates it when I touch here. I believe the baby knows I am waiting just—”
“Dad,” I said. I didn't want to hear any more of that crap. And I didn't want to see him patting anything of Mom's, either. I was just getting over the s-e-x part of things. “What did you all call me down here for?”
“We want you to come with us, Laurie,” Mom said. “And we want to talk to you about throwing a party.”
“What?”
Mom smiled at me. Dad put an arm around her shoulder and then he smiled too. I took a step backward.
“We've felt you needed something to cheer you up.” Mom glanced at Dad. “We were thinking you could have your first boy-girl party. Here, at the house.” Mom stretched her hands out wide, like maybe she was offering me the living room.
A party?
Dad stood up and pulled Mom to her feet. “We have to go. Wanna come? We can make plans on the way to the hospital.”
A boy-girl party?
“Go get your shoes on,” Mom said.
“Okay,” I said. A boy-girl party! That could be fun. For a moment I saw myself inviting Quinn over. And maybe us dancing a slow dance together. I hurried up the stairs, grinning. Happy, for what seemed the first time in all my life.
things to change about MYMOTHER!!!!!!!
12. Mom allowing Dad to pat her area
13. It
14. IT
15. IT!!!
At the hospital the doctor uncovered Mom's ball of a belly. He squirted jelly stuff on her stomach and started rubbing what looked like a microphone all over the area.
I don't know what I expected. Maybe to see a picture of a baby as clear as any on TV. That's not what happened. There was a faint white outline of things that made no sense.
“There's the heart,” the doctor said. “Looks healthy. Four chambers. Blood flow is great. Let's keep going. Spine is fine.”
My eyes started adjusting.
Mom was bawling and Dad kept saying, “There, there,” but I could hear tears in his voice, too.
“Oh, here we go,” the doctor said. “It's a girl.”
A girl? How could he see any
thing on that screen?
“A girl,” Dad said, and his voice cracked right in two, he was so happy. “I always wanted all girls.”
“Can you show me her face?” Mom asked.
“Sure.” The picture seemed to spin and then slow down. “Look at that,” the doctor said. “She's sucking her thumb.” He used an arrow to point things out.
It was then that I saw it. I saw the whole picture. I saw my sister sucking her thumb. She was still all funky looking, just a pale outline in a bluish black sea, but I could see her little hand up at her mouth. And even though I wasn't going to say a thing about it to my mom or dad, it was at that very moment that I fell in love with her, and I couldn't wait for her to be born.
“Now, of course you'll invite Christian, right, honey?” Mom asked. She sat at her desk in her office, a pad of paper in hand. We were making a list. No, she was making a list.
“Yes, Mom.” I didn't want to look at her. I was angry. This was, after all, supposed to be my party. A party that I wanted to plan with Mary. How could I with Mom's nose stuck right in my business?
“And that little boy whose parents just put in the tennis courts?”
“Yeah, I guess so. That's Kevin.” But he definitely is not a little boy. In fact, he is tall and skinny and has huge feet, something I couldn't help noticing in math class.
“The Cummingses are such good people,” Mom said. So now she was giving her stamp of approval, was she? Suddenly I wished all my friends were people my mother wouldn't nod in acceptance over. Too bad at thirteen Kevin couldn't grow a long beard. That would make my mom hesitate before inviting him to my first boy-girl party.
I squinted and took in a deep breath. Beard for Kevin. Dreadlocks for Mary. Tattoo for Christian. Who else did Mom want to invite?
“Well, honey. Do you have any ideas?”
“You're doing fine,” I said. And she was, too. But I wanted to do it.
“How about six and six?”
“Six and six what?”
“Boys and girls.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I looked around Mom's office, pretending this was okay. Her statues were everywhere, decorating shelves, standing in corners, near the edge of her desk. Mom was a wonderful sculptor. That's what Gary Price had said. He's a really famous guy. He'd called Mom “up-and-coming” and said he thought she had a lot of natural talent.
I like Mom's stuff too, but today it was getting on my nerves. It was… I don't know, too goody-goody. I mean, everything in the room had something to do with family: a man and a woman near an empty cradle, a pregnant woman with a sweater draped over her shoulders, a butterfly sitting on a flower with a little girl kneeling nearby.
Everything matched what Mom felt was important. Especially the statue she was working on now.
You know what sculpture you should work on instead, Mom? I thought. The one of the mother making the party list for her daughter. I wrinkled my forehead and looked down at my nails, which Mary's sister Karen had painted and even put decals on.
“Laura,” Mom said. “Laura, what is the matter with you? I am trying to make this easier for you. A girl's first party—”
“Mom,” I said, and the voice I used was not nice at all, but I couldn't stop it. “Mom, this is your party. Yours! You are inviting who you think I should have over here.”
Mom's mouth dropped open a bit and her face looked a little like I'd just punched her in the gut. “I…”
“I thought this was going to be my party. I thought… what I thought was that I'd be able to work it out with Mary, that she and I could come up with people. But just like everything else in my life, you have taken over.” This part wasn't the truth, and I was a little surprised when my mouth said it. But I didn't stop. In fact, I jumped to my feet and as I ran from Mom's office I shouted, “Just call me when you've taken care of the guest list.”
I ran out the front door, slamming it behind me. Taking the stairs two at a time, I started for Mary's house, not even looking back when Mom called my name.
“Let her do the party,” I said as I ran. “Let her choose who she wants to come.” I could see my list in my head. This had to be added to it.
things to change about MYMOTHER!!!!!!!
16. Mom running MY party
I ran the two blocks to my best friend's house, only to get there in time to see her leaving with her family.
“I'll be back in a couple of hours, Laura,” Mary called out her rolled-down window. “We're going to the mall.” For a moment I thought I might run after her. I didn't. Instead, I waved to her until their gray van was gone.
And then I thought I was going to start crying. Standing there near my best friend's house, I felt tears well up in my eyes, tears that seemed hotter than the summer air. “Come back,” I said.
A door slammed over at the Sumsions' house and Quinn walked outside. His hair was wet and smoothed down. My stomach lurched when I saw him. “You are the cutest guy I've ever seen in all my life,” I said, my voice lower than a whisper.
“Hey, Laura,” he called. He lifted his hand in a partial wave and smiled.
I sucked air in through my teeth and, without meaning to, made a hissing noise. “Hi, Quinn.” My tears dried right up.
“Coming to play ball?”
Was he asking me? I looked around. I was alone.
I shrugged and walked toward him, passing the houses that separated us. “I'm planning a party,” I said. “My first boy-girl party.”
“Is that right?” Quinn looked over his shoulder, back toward the door.
“Yeah,” I said. “Wanna come?” What? What had my mouth just done? I was close enough that I could see his eyes get bigger.
“To your party?” Quinn asked, and his voice was full of surprise. “You're inviting me to your party?”
My face seemed to freeze up. I gave a sort of nod.
Right at that moment the side door of Quinn's house opened and out walked Christian and the most beautiful girl this side of my mother. She had dark hair that fell to her waist, and eyes so blue that even from where I stood I could see them. Her makeup was perfect, her body was perfect, even her nails were perfect. I hated her right away. If I was lucky, she'd have a voice like Mickey Mouse's.
“Quinn,” she said. Her voice was deep and smooth. “You ready to go?”
“Wait, Rebecca,” Quinn said. “Laura here has invited…”
“Don't,” I said, my voice soft. The sun seemed hotter than usual. It felt like it shone only on me, like I was in a spotlight.
“… me to her first boy-girl party. Are you jealous?”
For one moment I had been so happy to see Quinn that I didn't think anything could destroy it. I was, of course, wrong. This girl was with him. They were like perfect bookends or bronzes my mother might sculpt. And was Quinn making fun of me? Hot sun. Hot. Hot. Hot.
“A party?” Rebecca leaned toward me and I waited for biting words. But that didn't happen. She smiled. Quinn smiled too. “I love parties. And I remember my first one, too. It was so much fun.”
Christian moved over near me and I tried not to look at him. I was so embarrassed even my lips felt cooked.
“I just thought—” I started, but Quinn cut me off.
“Hey,” he said. He scooped Rebecca up in his arms. “I don't remember being invited to that.”
She tilted her head and said, “I left you out on purpose, Quinn.”
He pretended a pout, then turned to me.
“Thanks for the invite, Laura, but I don't think we can make it. Ask Christian in my place. And the two of you, no kissing. You know Mom's rule.” With that he planted a smacky kiss on Rebecca's lips. “Let's get going,” he said.
And they did.
I stood in the burning sun next to Christian without moving until he said, “Um, Laura. A party? Really?” He kicked at the sidewalk, then went over and got the basketball.
I was too embarrassed to look at him, so instead I stared at the hoop that was there at the edge of the driv
eway. “Yeah,” I said.
I heard the ball bounce three times.
Strike me dead, I thought. God, strike me dead right now.
We were silent a moment.
“Let's play some,” Christian said.
“Sure.”
Christian tossed me the ball, but for a moment I wasn't quite sure what to do.
“Hey. Did you just want Quinn, or am I invited too?” Christian asked. A bird twittered in a pine.
A bit of relief washed over me. “Yeah, I want you to be there,” I said. I looked over his shoulder 'cause I couldn't quite look him in the eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
And at that moment I really, really meant it.
A note waited for me on my bed when I came home. It was short and simple.
Laura—
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-take over your life. Please let me, know what day you want the party.
Love,
Mom
I stood still, holding the slip of paper like it was made of gold. I read it five times to make sure it said what I thought it said. “Please let me know what day you want the party.” It didn't say, “Who are you inviting?” or “What is the list of food?” or anything like that. She was letting me be in charge. Me. I was the boss of my party.
My hands started trembling and I ran to the phone. Mary could help me plan it and… I wanted to let out a shout of excitement. Instead I called my best friend and we spent the next two hours making plans.
Four days later I waited at the door, so nervous I thought I was going to puke. Mary and I had decorated the game room, and now the lights were low and dance music filled the air. Our Ping-Pong table was covered with all different kinds of food, drinks and desserts.
Mary had been with me all morning, and now she peeked from Mom's office window with me, watching the driveway for people to show up. The lights were out in here. I mean, I didn't want people to see us looking so eager. That would be embarrassing.