My dad's hugs usually always seemed to make everything better – but not this time. Not even daddy's hug could make this situation better. But perhaps his advice would.
My entire body was trembling and I was fighting a nauseous feeling in my stomach. My dad pulled away and stared at me, concern in his eyes. He looked at me and I lost control of myself and my emotions and began to cry. Normally, there was so much pride for me in those eyes, and I'd let him down. How could I not cry? I was probably never going to see that look of pride on their faces ever again.
“What's wrong, sweetie?” my mom asked, stepping up and putting her arm around my shoulders.
And before I could stop myself, I blurted out the news. No preamble. No softening of the blow – just threw the cold, hard truth out there.
“I'm pregnant,” I said.
And the room went completely silent and it felt like all of the oxygen had been sucked out. Neither my mom nor my dad said a single word for a long moment, and I would have sworn that they weren't even breathing.
“I'm sorry, I really am,” I sobbed. “I didn't mean for this to happen –”
“Who's the –” I knew what my mom was going to ask long before she spit out the words, but she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
Knowing how they felt about Luke's friends, and knowing that Reese has made it perfectly clear that he didn't want to be serious with me, I did the only thing I could think of – I lied.
“I don't know,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I don't know. It was a mistake; it was a one night stand at a party and I have no idea. He left before I could get his name.”
My mom looked as if she'd seen a ghost. My dad's grip on my shoulders got tighter, but his face remained neutral. He just stared at me, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking or feeling. He just stared at me without saying anything at all.
My mom, on the other hand, took a seat, fanning herself as if she might pass out. But my dad stared at me, and I watched as the pride he'd had in me slipped away, bit by bit. He looked at me as if he didn't even know me, like I was a stranger to him.
And honestly, I felt like a stranger myself.
Several Years Later
“Elijah Michael McConnell, put that down!” my mom shouted.
Visiting my parents with my son was always an adventure. My mom, as much as she claimed to love children, really wasn't too fond of a toddler who liked to grab all the little trinkets off the shelves. Maybe it was because she'd thought she was past all of that. That she'd done her tour of duty raising kids and it was over. What with her own kids grown up and able to comprehend that the porcelain birds on the shelves were fragile and all. But I never remembered my mom being that strict or grumpy when I was a child myself.
My son, Elijah, was precocious too. I often said he was just like his father. He looked like him, not that anyone but me knew who his father was, but I could see it plain as day. His skin was a nice natural tan and he had the same dark eyes and dark hair that his dad did. Thankfully, no one else put two and two together – Reese was so far out of the picture, no one even mentioned his name anymore. Luke seemed to have all but forgotten about him. He was off in LA, living his dream and he'd forgotten about all of us there in the suburbs of Chicago.
And most of the time, I was thankful for that.
“What's he getting into now?” I asked, coming down the hallway.
I had stepped away to use the bathroom – that was it. A few minutes away and my mom was already freaking out because Elijah was getting into something – again.
I walked into the living room to find her hovering over Eli, standing over him and blocking him from getting to her shelves. She had one of her glass birds in her hand, holding it out of reach and Eli reached up for it, a smile on his face.
His father's smile.
“Maybe you should try putting those stupid birds up higher,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Why put something that looks like a toy – but is made of glass – within his reach? You're only tempting him and seriously, it's not worth the trouble.”
Yeah, that was the new me. I was no longer the dutiful daughter who never talked back. Once I'd lost my status as the family's golden child, I realized my parents weren't the perfect parents they pretended to be either. And now that I was a mother myself, I had grown up. A lot.
“Because it's my house, Maya, and I want to decorate it how I please,” my mom said.
I pick
ed up Eli, propping him up on my hip and laughed. “Well, he's your grandson, so it's either put the birds up higher or expect them to get broken, because you know he's going to find a way over there when we're not looking.”
My mom scowled and placed the bird – a white dove – on the top shelf. Almost like she was admitting I was right without actually admitting it. Because I couldn't be right about anything. Not anymore.
Luke came downstairs at that moment, saw the way mom and I were staring at each other – probably felt the tension in the air – and laughed long and loud.
“It's so nice not being the biggest failure in this family,” he said and smiled wide.