Mom nods. “Two days ago. I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug, desperately trying to hold myself together. “We haven’t talked for so many years.”
Mom stands and comes to kneel in front of me, putting her hand to rest on my knee. “That doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt, okay? That doesn’t mean that you can’t be upset. Relationships are complicated. I know you had your reasons, good reasons, for not wanting to keep a relationship with your dad, but that doesn’t mean you can’t mourn this.”
“I don’t want to be upset,” I say. “It doesn’t feel right. I should have known… I should have been there, but I wasn’t. I didn’t feel that he wasn’t here anymore. We didn’t have a connection.”
Mom squeezes my knee, trying to reassure me. If she was honest, she could say a whole lot. How pigheaded, I am, just like my dad. How I said things I shouldn’t have said, and then couldn’t forgive my dad for responding in a less-than-perfect way. Relationships are complicated, but fathers shouldn’t let words come between them and their kids. They should understand that sometimes children lash out in hurt and disappointment. They should forgive.
“You said something about tomorrow?”
Mom nods. “Uncle Walter is going to call you tomorrow. He has things he needs to speak to you about… your dad’s will. What happens next.”
“Will? He can’t have left me anything in a will. We haven’t been in touch for a decade.”
“As far as I know, you’re his only child. Who else is he going to leave his worldly possessions to? Your Uncle Walter doesn’t need it. He’s got that chain of motorcycle stores, at least he used to.”
“I think I need to get some fresh air,” I say. I know my mom means well but having her so close feels almost claustrophobic.
“Okay, honey. Maybe take a walk. Or go out into the yard. And if you want to talk, let me know.”
She climbs up off the floor, and I head for the front door, feeling her eyes on me as I leave. How quickly our fight about my condition disappeared when worse news was discovered. The air is warmer outside than I’d like it to be. There should be rain on sad days: rain and wind, the sun obstructed by clouds the color of misery.
I walk for an hour, not really taking in where I’m going but managing a loop of our neighborhood, which brings me back home, and in that hour, I tell myself that I can’t indulge in crying. I can’t indulge in regret. The child in my belly needs me to do better than that.
Everything else just has to be pushed down deep inside me and locked away tightly in a box.
3
I'm startled awake by a loud thud, followed by more bangs that reverberate around the house. I sit up quickly, straining to hear what is going on. It's then I hear Cathy's voice.
"You slut. Get out here, Maggie. Get your dirty slut ass out here and explain to me why you've been fucking my boyfriend."
"Fuck," I mutter, sliding my legs out of bed. A wave of nausea swells in my belly, and I smooth my hands over my wavy hair that I know will be tangled and messy.
There are stamping footsteps moving down the hallway, and I swear again, realizing that Mom is about to open the front door to my furious friend.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mom shouts. "Who the hell do you think you are, banging on my front door at this godforsaken hour?"
"You know what your skank daughter has done? She's pregnant with my boyfriend's baby. She's…"
"Justin isn't your boyfriend. He got fed up with your moaning and whining, and he moved on. What Maggie did with him when he was free and single is none of your goddamned business. And what is going on in her personal life is also none of your goddamned business. I don't know what you thought you were going to do to a pregnant woman at this time of the morning, shouting your mouth off, but you better get your ass off my porch before I call the police and report you for harassment."
"But…" I hear Cathy stammer.
"BUT NOTHING!" Mom bellows. "You think we don't have other things going on? Maggie's dad has just died. She doesn't need this juvenile bullshit from you. So, take your dumped ass home, and get over yourself. And don't you EVER come back to this house shouting like that again."
I step out into the hallway, and I get to see Cathy's furious expression from a safe distance. She must see the movement, and her eyes meet mine. "You shouldn't have done it, Maggie," she hisses. "Justin is mine. He always has been mine, and he always will be mine. Don't you go thinking that you can change that just because you got knocked up."