23. Emily

23

EMILY

I trudged through the airport terminal, following the crowd as they moved toward the main exit. The wheels on my small black suitcase clicked on the floor tiles. I was exhausted. The flight was short, but it was getting on in the evening and I hadn’t slept well this week. I wasn’t looking forward to the evening much because I knew Mom and Dad would want me to sit around talking. Mom would make dinner and Dad would want to show me his newest creation for work. My brain hurt just thinking about it.

They were waiting when I passed security, holding a giant sign Mom had made. It said Welcome Home in giant glitter letters and had hearts and smiley faces all over it. It had only been a few months, but the warm welcome felt nice. I threw my arms around her and let the suitcase sit.

“I missed you,” I mumbled, already on the verge of tears. One thing I hated about being pregnant was that I was so damn emotional. Everything made me cry.

“Oh, baby, we missed you too.” Mom smoothed my hair and squeezed me.

“Hey, don’t hog all the hugs now, Nan.” Dad nudged his way in, and I hugged him too. He smelled like pipe tobacco, but he gave the best hugs. When he let me go, he said, “Alright, let’s get out of here. Traffic will be a nightmare, and I’m hungry.”

I nodded and reached for my suitcase, but Dad grabbed it and headed off. Mom hooked her arm around mine and smiled. “I made pot roast and lentils. Oh, and that marble cake with caramel icing you like so much. And I got your room ready. I mean, it’s exactly how you left it, but I put clean sheets on the bed and dusted a little. Gosh, I’m so glad you’re home.”

Mom went on about her new hobby of knitting for about twenty minutes, long after we were in the old rusty pickup truck headed down the highway. I couldn’t believe Dad still had this old hunk of junk. He bought it brand-new from the factory and told everyone as long as it was running, he’d keep it. Thirty years later, it was still moving, though it had seen better days. It was comforting, curled up in the back seat with no leg room, reminiscing about being a child and riding around in his truck.

Life had changed so quickly for me when I moved to Chicago, so coming home, where life was slower and not much changed, felt comforting. I closed my eyes and hugged my knees to my chest and dozed off as we bumped over potholes. When I heard the crunch of gravel and felt the truck stop, I knew we were home. I blinked my eyes open and yawned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Dad joked. “I’ll get your bag. You help Mom finish supper.” He slammed the car door and pulled my bag out of the bed, and Mom opened the door on our side and let me out.

“You don’t have to cook. You can just sit and watch. You look exhausted.” She led the way, and I trailed behind her.

It was still light out, but growing dusky. The sun setting over the large barn out back where Dad kept his boat cast beautiful rays of colorful light in the sky. I noticed they’d cut down the old oak tree in the backyard. They’d been talking about it for years. I guess things did change around here a bit.

The porch still creaked when I stepped on it, and the corner drooped a little, sinking into the weeds that grew up around it. The awning sagged in the center, showing its age. Dad was so busy with work all the time that he never got around to house repairs, and it appeared to me that situation hadn’t changed a bit.

“You can freshen up if you want,” Mom said as we walked into the kitchen.

My stomach was upset again, probably from not having eaten all day. Morning sickness was worse when I abstained from food. I should have learned my lesson and at least had a snack, but I was too emotional. After Evelyn said all those things about Daniel at dinner yesterday, I couldn’t think straight, let alone eat. I pressed my hand to my belly and sighed.

“Not feeling well?” she asked.

“Yeah, honestly, if you don’t mind, I’d like to just go to bed tonight. I’m not feeling well.” I leaned on the door jamb and rested my head on the wall.

“Oh, no. I hope you’re not coming down with something.” Mom pressed her hand to my forehead. “You don’t feel warm. It’s probably just motion sickness from the flight. You go on to your room and lie down. I’ll bring you some soup after a bit.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I turned and headed up the hallway where light streamed out of my open door onto the worn yellow carpet that had almost lost its nap. The carpet in my bedroom wasn’t as worn, a light blue that Evelyn always made fun of because it was a “boy color”. I didn’t mind it, never did. I collapsed onto my bed and kicked my shoes off, burying myself beneath the covers. My heart was as heavy as my stomach.

The longer I thought about what my sister told me, the more I believed her. A man with that much power and money had to have so many women he didn’t know what to do with. And a man that age should have found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with by now, unless he had no intention of settling down, anyway. Either way, I was just another notch in his belt and I had been played.

Tears came hot and fast, drenching my green pillowcase. I had to reach into my suitcase, left by the side of my bed by Dad, to get a tissue from the small travel pack I stuffed in the outer pocket. One tissue turned into two, then another, and after a while, the entire pack was crumpled and snotty, lying in a heap on my nightstand. My eyes were heavy and ached from crying so much, and I was about to doze off when Mom shuffled in carrying a tray table and a bowl of soup. She set them on the bed next to me, and I sat up.

“That smells really good.” I adjusted myself in bed so she could position the tray table over my legs and nervously glanced at the pile of soggy tissues.

“You’ve been crying?” she asked, perching carefully on the edge of the bed. “Honey, is everything okay?”

My shoulders slumped as I picked up the spoon and stirred the steaming soup. Ham and potato was my favorite. It always had been. But I didn’t know if I could eat a single bite without throwing it up. My stomach wasn’t kind about that. It didn’t matter how much my tongue loved the taste. My belly didn’t agree with anything I put in it some days.

“I’m okay, Mom.”

“Emily, you stop lying to me this instant. You girls have always known that you can tell me anything. You’ve been crying. A lot, by the looks of it. Now tell me why you’re crying.”

It was now or never. If I didn’t tell Mom, she’d find out soon enough, and then she would not only be upset that I was pregnant, but she’d also feel hurt that I didn’t trust her enough to be honest with her in the beginning. I swallowed the constrictor that wrapped his slithery body around my throat and took a deep breath before I started.

“Mom, I know that you and Dad expect me to do things a certain way. I understand why you have expectations and hopes for me. And I’m sorry that I probably failed in your eyes.”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“I’m pregnant.” I couldn’t look her in the eye. Shame washed over me—not because I was ashamed of being pregnant or because I didn’t want this baby so badly. It was a shame because I knew they wanted me to have my degree, then my career, then a husband, and finally—most importantly, last on the list—a baby.

“You’re what?” she asked, almost in a whisper.

“It was an accident, obviously. I wasn’t careful like I should have been and I?—”

“It’s that old man’s?”

I looked up at her, hurt at the attempt to slander Daniel by calling him old. “Mom, you realize you’re older than him.”

“You know what I mean, Emily. Don’t avoid the question.”

“Yes, Mom, Daniel is the father.” Annoyed, I took a bite of soup, a bit larger than I should have, and it was hot. It burnt my tongue and I whimpered.

“Well, doesn’t that just take the cake. He got you pregnant and now you’ve come home too. What did he do, dump you? What a real piece of?—”

“Mom, stop.” I spoke with my mouth full of food, and it forced her to stop speaking. She scowled at me while I chewed and swallowed. “He didn’t dump me. I came home for a visit because I missed you guys and I needed some time to think about how to tell him.” I stirred the soup and blew on it, hoping to cool it off enough to eat. It was a delicious distraction from my emotional wreckage.

“So you haven’t even told him?” Her eyebrows rose.

“No. He doesn’t know. I don’t know how to tell him. How did you tell Dad you were pregnant with Evelyn?”

Her lips pursed, deepening her scowl. “Well, first of all, I was married, so it was a happy thing.”

I rolled my eyes. “I should have never told you.”

“Look, if you haven’t said anything yet, that’s better. It means you can take care of this and he’ll never be the wiser.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my chest tightening.

“I mean, we’ll go to the women’s clinic in the morning. You have options. I think ending this now while it’s very early is the best. Your whole life will be completely ruined if you keep this baby. And God forbid your father finds out.” She pressed her hands to her face and sighed deeply, then dropped them.

“There is no way I’m aborting my baby, Mom.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s not even a baby yet. Okay? Just think of it like a wart you need to cut off.” Mom stood, and I wanted to scream at her. “We’ll go first thing in the morning. You’ll see, Emily, that this is the best thing for you. I can’t imagine how hard your life would be if you kept it. You’ll see.”

“Uh…” My brain felt like it was going to explode. Mom walked out as calmly as she walked in, and my head was spinning. How could she compare my baby to a wart that needed to be removed? That wasn’t at all the reaction I had expected.

I thought she’d be angry, shout at me. Maybe call my father into the room and attempt to punish me like I was a naughty child with lectures and grounding. It almost felt like she expected this to happen and she’d thought out her reaction and a plan moving forward for just such an event. And it infuriated me.

I finished the soup and set the tray outside my door and locked it. Morning and the chance to bicker with her about this would both come soon enough. I needed sleep.