Chapter 12: Southern Women and their Tea
I awoke to tiny jabs in my side. It had been eight weeks since I watched CeCe’s headlights disappear out of the driveway. I missed being with her every day. We phoned each other at least twice a week to catch up on life and gossip. Home life hadn’t changed much though. My father was still giving me the silent treatment except when my mother gently forced him to talk with me at times—like at dinner when she pretended not to hear his requests to pass the dumplings and I was the next closet person to them. Lucy was starting to grow quickly and enormously. My little bump turned into a cantaloupe-sized lump. The tiny bubbles I felt, when she moved, turned into soccer-ball punts into my ribs and anywhere else she felt like visiting with her powerful little kickers.
My mother took me shopping and bought me several pairs of maternity overalls. I read in a magazine that you could keep wearing your regular jeans by using a rubber band and tying it through the button hole and fastening it all together by looping the rest of the rubber band around the button. I was so excited that I could actually wear most of my jeans by doing this instead of wearing the huge, goofy-looking maternity jeans. Having comfortable and stylish clothes made working at the diner a lot more bearable when I saw people I knew. My belly was somewhat noticeable depending on what I wore. Some clothing was more concealing like my regular jeans paired with a big hoodie.
During this time, my mother and I went to the local college and I signed up for two classes. The classes would be over by the time Lucy was born and they were general requirements that I would’ve taken at the University of Georgia anyway. I felt a little better about myself taking some classes. Dropping out of college didn’t sit right with me. I didn’t want to be the stereotypical knocked up girl—looking to everyone else to pay her ride. I was determined to keep going to school and finish, even if it took twice as long. I, also, didn’t want to feel any more judged than I already felt by the stares at the diner and at church—even by CeCe’s mother, Beverly. I had caught her looking down at my belly, from across the aisle, during mass. Her face was scowling and she whispered something to James while shaking her head. I wasn’t surprised. She would have acted the same way with CeCe if it were her. I didn’t tell CeCe about it during our weekly phone calls or she would have called her mother and busted me out. I was just happy that my mother even though disappointed with some of my choices, was supportive and loved me especially during the times I doubted my self-worth and potential. I knew CeCe would’ve had it worse than I if she were pregnant.
I put my hand on my belly and waited for any movement. A minute passed by and she remained still. She must have kicked herself into a comfortable position and went back to sleep—now that I was wide awake and it was only six thirty in the morning and I didn’t have work or school. I figured this was what the next 10 years would hold; early morning rise’s with a busy baby, toddler and school-aged-up-at-the-crack-of-dawn kid. I needed to get use to not sleeping, I guessed, and invest heavily in coffee. I turned onto my side and propped a pillow under my belly and one behind my back to get comfortable again. The bed creaked as I heaved myself onto my side.
“Char, are you awake?” I heard my mother whisper quietly into my room from the doorway.
“Not by choice. Lucy was playing the World Cup this morning, in her bedroom.” I said, yawning.
“You’re so funny. You use to do the same thing to me when I was pregnant with you. I was sure my insides were black and blue from you and your brothers kicking the heck out of me.”
“Did you ever pee your pants?” I asked laughing.
“Only a few times.” She smiled while reaching out to rub my belly.
“Really? That’s terrible.” I scrunched my nose, thinking about peeing my pants.
“No, not really; I did leak a little, though. Every pregnant woman leaks a little. Your bladder’s like a sponge being rung out every time the baby kicks or moves just the right way.”
“Ouch—ugh.” I wrinkled my nose again.
“Just wait till childbirth—everything comes out then.”
“What? What do you mean everything?” I questioned.
“Pee, poop, baby. All that good stuff.”
“That’s so embarrassing mom.”
“When you get to that point you really don’t care—you just want that baby out as fast as possible. Besides, those doctors have seen it all. They don’t care.”
“Oh gravy.” I said, thinking about all the doctors standing there waiting to catch a baby with a mud slide, feeling even more grossed out and embarrassed after hearing that.
“You’ll be fine when you get to that point. Anyway…I spoke with Aunt Juanita last night and she’s home from Paris.”
“Oh she is? I would love to see her. Is she coming over?”
“No, but she did ask if you and I and Evi wanted to come visit her this weekend.” My mother said with a tinge of excitement in her voice.
“I’d love to. I have to work Sunday night but maybe I can switch with someone else and then we don’t have to rush back.” I said, mentally trying to figure out who I could call to switch my shift with.
“Okay, I’ll go make some breakfast and then we can leave. If you can’t find someone to switch with then we’ll just come back a little early,” she said, kissing the top of my head before heading downstairs to make some coffee and a quick bite before we left.
“Okay.”
Looking at me through the rearview mirror an hour later, my mother said, “I’m so glad you were able to find someone to switch with you. Aunt Juanita will be so excited to see you.”
“I know; I’m excited to see her too. At least she won’t give me the silent treatment like her brother.” I said, looking back at her in the mirror.
“Charlotte Renee your father will get over it. All southern men are stubborn but eventually they come around. Your father loves you very much.” She said somewhat defending my father.
Pulling up to the cottage a little bit later, I was ecstatic to see Aunt Juanita. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas and now that everyone knew about the baby she would want to talk with me. I was the closest to Aunt Juanita out of all the nieces and nephews. Besides Rosie and Richie—we were both the artsy free-spirited ones in the family who chose to do things that didn’t include farming or being a homemaker. Aunt Juanita went to art school while most women, her age graduating from high school, were getting married or having babies. Those who did pursue college were heavily persuaded to choose feminine careers like teaching and nursing for a few years, before leaving the workforce for the child birthing and child rearing days. The black sheep of her family— Aunt Juanita back-packed all over Europe on her own after college, painting beautiful landscapes of sun-drenched French vineyards, Tuscan hillside sunsets, and white and blue Grecian villas overlooking the moonlit Aegean Sea. Aunt Juanita never married and had no children but would whisper to me that if she did have children she would want a daughter like me—I hoped she still felt that way. At Christmas, I was always excited to see what she had for me. Whether it was something she picked up from many of her world travels or something handcrafted by her; it was sure to be great. My room at home was adorned with several pieces of her art and exotic trinkets from places like India and Mozambique. I had long admired Aunt Juanita for her boldness to go after the things she wanted in life and hoped to make my own journey, one day, as fascinating as the stories she brought back from faraway places.
Aunt Juanita’s cottage was a small haven all by itself. As a kid, we would visit her in the summertime when my mom needed to get off the farm for a few days. Richie and I, the youngest, usually got to go with her for some R&R. Her cottage, nestled in a mix of magnolia and weeping willow trees, was only a two minute walk to a lake perfect for swimming and fishing. Though the outdoors was a wonderland for our adventuresome spirits, the inside of the cottage was an inviting, cozy, country home. It was filled with Aunt Juanita’s paintings and world market finds. A small white pic
ket fence hugged the front edge of her property. Her home reminded me of a Thomas Kinkade painting—a small piece of solace beautifully isolated in the Georgia countryside.
“What took you ladies so long to get here?” Aunt Juanita said as she greeted us at the car.
“We had to stop a few times for bathroom breaks.” My mother said as she dropped her bags to hug Aunt Juanita.
“Was that for Evi or my favorite niece with the watermelon squishing her bladder?” She said laughing.
“Hi, Aunt Juanita; it was for both of us.” I smiled as I hugged her back.
“Now stand back a moment so I can see your belly. I hear you’re having a little girl—that’s wonderful.” Aunt Juanita said as she rubbed my perfectly-sized cantaloupe.
“Yes, this is Lucy Grace.” I said, pointing to my belly.
“Well Lucy Grace, this is your Aunt Juanita—I’m going to be your favorite Aunt.” She said with her deep southern tone as she kissed my belly. “How are you Char?” She asked as she took mine and Evi’s bags up the porch stairs.
“I’m okay. I’m going to the local community college now; it’s not Athens but its okay for now.”
“Juanita, I’m going to get momma settled in. I have to take her to the bathroom. Will you pour us a glass of ice tea? We’ll be out in a few minutes.” My mother said as she walked towards the bathroom with Grandma Evi.
“Sure will.” Juanita said taking the bags back to the guest room, where my mom and Evi would stay. “Char, honey, will you get some cups down from the cabinet? I’ll be right back.”
I pulled down three glasses for us from her cabinet and found the ice tea in the fridge.
“There’s a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge.” Aunt Juanita said. “And plenty of ice in the freezer”.
“Thanks Aunt Juanita.”
“So, how’s that daddy of yours?” She asked, looking at me seriously from behind her bifocals.
“Well…”
“Still stubborn?”
“Yeah. He’s barely spoken to me since he found out I was pregnant. Momma disappears or pretends not to hear him sometimes when he needs something so he has to ask me for help. She’s been trying to get him to talk to me but he just doesn’t seem to care.” I said, sipping my ice tea.
“Your daddy loves you. He’s just mad that someone ran off with your jewels. Dads don’t want to think about any boy messing with their little girl. He still sees you as his little girl with your big dimples and curly pigtails, sweet and innocent.”
“I know. Mom said he’s just worried and doesn’t know what to say.”
“That’s probably right. Your dad never knew what to say when things made him the least bit uncomfortable. He use to freeze up in front of your mother—he got so shy. He’s going to come around.” She took another sip of her tea, “Nothing can take away his love for you—definitely not you being pregnant with his granddaughter.”
“Thanks Aunt Juanita. I just wish he would talk to me. I feel like my life has hit the pause button. I’m trying to accept where I’m at and I just want my dad back.”
“Give him time. He may be feeling like he’s failed as a father too. Daddy’s like to think that they can protect their daughter from all the bad and hurtful things out there. When they realize that sometimes they can’t—they blame themselves.”
I hadn’t thought about that. Maybe he was blaming himself for my pregnancy. It surely wasn’t his or my mother’s fault. I simply gave into my heart and followed that instead of the wise words and teachings from my parents. I made a mistake. There was nothing more to it except maybe a little naivety on my part.
“Thanks Aunt Juanita. I hadn’t thought of it like that. My parents taught me right from wrong. They are not to blame; it was Skylar’s blue eyes, big dimples, and sweet charm that lured me from my senses.”
“Skylar, huh? Did you ever get a hold of him?” She asked curiously.
“No, I was never able to. Every time I called it either just rang or some Spanish-speaking lady answered. I don’t even know if it was his actual phone number but I didn’t think he would have given me some bunk phone number.”
“Maybe something happened; maybe he has a maid who speaks Spanish.”
“I’d like to think that but he had my phone number at home and mom said he never called me.”
“Okay. Are you sure one of your brothers didn’t intercept any calls?” Aunt Juanita asked as she added more tea to her glass.
“I don’t think so. I was really upset and my brothers would have told me if some strange guy called especially after Jewel busted me out at Christmas.” I said with a bit of anger, in my voice, when I said Jewel’s name.
“Yeah, that wasn’t so nice of her. She knew better than to do that. She was just trying to stir up some trouble. She is such a PK kid.” My Aunt said, nodding her head.
“Who are you talking about?” My mom asked as she walked in the room with Grandma Evi.
“Jewel,” I said.
“Yeah, how did she know about you being pregnant?” My mom asked as she grabbed the two glasses of ice tea for her and Grandma Evi.
“She tricked Richie, who found out by accident, into telling her. She hugged me when she came in and from there she started acting strangely. I think she might have felt my little bump but I don’t really know.” I supposed.
“Hmm, that’s too bad she had to do that.” My mom said with my Aunt agreeing.
“Her mom is praying for her. She’s been more rebellious over the past few years. Her mom and dad have worried about the influences in her life that are opposite to their spiritual beliefs.” My mom said.
“Anyway, how was Paris?” I asked with visions of the Eiffel Tower in my head.
“It was beautiful—cold this time of the year.” She said, sipping her tea.
“I brought you and little Lucy something back.”
Aunt Juanita always found the neatest things from her travels. I was curious to see what she brought us back. A moment later, Aunt Juanita walked back into the open living room-kitchen area with a small pink bag and a package wrapped in brown packing paper.
“When I saw these I knew they would be perfect for a baby girl.” She said, handing me the pink bag with white handles.
As I opened up the bag, carefully, I saw a small package wrapped in white tissue paper. I quickly unrolled the paper and inside found a pair of antique-looking knit booties in a champagne color with rose-pink lace. They were so little and girly.
“They’re so cute. You shouldn’t have but I’m glad you did.” I said, holding them up for mom and Evi to see and touch.
“Well, I’m very glad you like them. I thought they were too precious to pass up.” She said, grinning as she passed me the rectangular-shaped package with brown packing paper. “I thought of you when I saw this. I thought it would inspire you to keep pursuing your dreams despite any unexpected blessings.”
I quickly pulled the tape off the brown packing paper and removed it to reveal a beautiful Eiffel tower bejeweled like that of a Christmas tree with soft white lights. In the foreground the Seine River with a single boat floating effortlessly reflected the nightscape humming the beauty around.
“Wow this is gorgeous Juanita!” My mother leaned forward for a closer look.
“Did you paint this one Aunt Juanita?” I asked completely in awe of the splendor of Paris captured on canvas.
“No. I was walking down the Seine River boardwalk and saw this one on an easel. The artist was busy working on another picture of the Notre Dame Cathedral and her work was just stunning. I thought this would help propel you out of the slump your mother mentioned over the phone.”
“I love it. It’s so beautiful.” I said holding up the picture at an arm’s length to take in the view.
“This is meant to be a reminder that your dreams are not lost— just on hold for a little bit.” My Aunt said reaffirming my dreams of traveling the world.
“Thank you so much. I am going to hang it in my room
when I get home. And I was not in a slump, mom.” I said, raising my eyebrows at her.
“What do you call it then?” My mother asked smiling back at me.
“I’m just tired after being on my feet all day, at the diner, and then running back and forth to school.” I said snuggling up with a pillow on one of Aunt Juanita’s cozy sofas, covered in pillows and soft fuzzy throws.
“Ahhh, that’s what that is. Okay, but I think you’re missing CeCe too.” My mother suggested.
“How is CeCe?” Aunt Juanita wondered out loud.
“She’s good—busy with all her school work and her Tri-Delta girlfriends. We talk every week. She’s always telling me about her adventures and the boys she’s met and the parties they have with their sorority brothers. You know all that exciting college stuff.”
“Do you miss her or college life most?” My Aunt asked.
“I miss her a lot. I wish I were there with her instead. I feel like I’m missing out on everything—like I got short-changed. I’m back here working at a diner and going to a community college with kids who didn’t try their hardest in school to get to the school they dreamed about their whole life. I’m knocked up by someone who doesn’t even know they are a daddy—like some sort of Jerry Springer episode—that just keeps going and going.”
“Charlotte, honey.” My mother said as she reached over to me.
By this time I had started crying again and couldn’t control the tears from coming. I was angry and sad and frustrated all over again. A picture of CeCe dancing with some cute frat guy at a party flashed in my mind. I hated being angry and feeling sorry for myself but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was getting the raw end of things here. I was mad that it was me instead of CeCe in my place. I felt guilty for feeling this way. I love CeCe and it’s not hers or Lucy’s fault. Lucy didn’t ask to be born to me and CeCe didn’t get me pregnant. I was frustrated with myself for admitting my feelings in front of my Aunt and my mother and only cried harder the more I thought about everything I had said even though it was exactly how I felt. I buried my head in the pillows to cover my tears and blotchy-red face.
“Char, here’s some tissue.” My Aunt said placing the tissue in one of my hands.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know why this is coming out.” I said in a muffled, tear-soaked voice from under a pillow.
“It’s okay Char. You’re upset—it’s good to get it out. You don’t want to carry that bitterness inside of you. Soon, you’re going to be a momma and a good one but you have to make peace with the decisions you’ve made so you can focus on that little one’s needs first. Your life is not over. The excitement is just beginning. You’ll lose out on all the good things coming if you get stuck in the past—thinking only about the things you think you’ve missed.” My mother said firmly but tenderly.
“We Buchanan’s are strong women. We get mad, we feel sorry for ourselves and then we get creative. We figure out how to get what we want with what we have. We walk in the shadow of the Lord who moves the mountains for us so we can reach our destiny. You just have to enjoy the walk at whichever point you’re at.” My Aunt said confidently.
I sat up and wiped my eyes off with the tissue. I was still so sad inside but a sense of clarity came to me and I was less angry. I listened closer to these wise women who’d known me since I was in the womb.
“And in the words of a highly controversial and famously beautiful woman, ‘sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together’.” My mother smiled.
“Who—Madonna?” I questioned.
“No, she’s a bit more controversial.” My Aunt said, knowing the quote. “Marilyn Monroe.”
“Oh wow, I didn’t know that; it’s a good quote.” I sniffled.
“It’s true too.” My Aunt spoke up.
“Life is what we make it. You can either see it as half-empty with broken dreams or half-full with endless possibilities around the next corner. We can choose to look for the good even in the challenging things in life. You have the power to change your fate Charlotte Renee.” My mother said, sounding like an inspirational poster.
“Okay ladies, who needs a little fresh air? I’ll make some more ice tea and we can take this outside.” My Aunt recommended as she headed back into the kitchen.
I sat there quietly while my Aunt and mother bantered back and forth. Evi flipped through some of the magazines on the coffee table, not really stopping to look at the pictures for more than a second or two. I thought about what my mother had said. It was all a matter of how I saw my life. I tried to picture my future a few years from now. I hoped I would be at least half way done with school. I wondered if I would ever run into Skylar. What would I say? What would he do? I started to practice what I’d say and then stopped—feeling it fruitless. There were billions of people on the planet. I’d most likely never see him. Would there be anyone else in my life? Would I still be living with my parents—would I still be working at the diner? The wave of questions drowned me in my thoughts. I guessed if I looked at my future as if it couldn’t get any worse but maybe more interesting or more exciting than it gave me something to look forward to besides the pretty little baby I’d be meeting soon. CeCe would be home again within a few weeks and I couldn’t wait to see her. I just needed to hold on to all the good things I did have in my life and stop crying over all the things I wished I had. Easier said than done but I’ve always been up for a challenge.