Things We Didn't Say_ A Novel - Kristina Riggle [14]
“I didn’t sign up for fun. I love him.” I prop my cigarette in my phone hand and cover my eyes with my free hand.
“Fun and love used to go together, you know.”
“It wasn’t always fun with Pete. We had plenty of not-fun times. Remember Billy’s funeral?”
She gasps like she’s been sliced. “Edna Leigh.”
“I’m just saying, you only think he’s a saint because we broke up. It’s nostalgia.”
“He just fit in so well.”
“Did he ever.”
“Don’t you start with me. I know you’re too good to even visit us anymore, but you don’t have to criticize every move we make.”
“I’m not criticizing. I was agreeing.”
“How great can this Michael be if he doesn’t even want to meet your family?”
“It’s complicated,” I say again, because it is.
“It doesn’t have to be. Anyway, are you coming to Wanda’s baby’s party this weekend?”
My cousin’s baby’s first birthday. They’ll even break out the beer for a toddler’s party. By the end of the night, they’ll be shooting cans off the back fence and having wrestling matches in the yard. They won’t talk to me, either, instead whispering behind my back about how I blew town right after my brother’s funeral, not even staying to support my grieving parents. Some of them outright blame me, I know.
My mother insists they don’t, but I can feel their heavy stares, see it in the way they turn quickly away if they happen to meet my eyes.
“I can’t. I’m swamped with work.”
“I just bet.”
“Can we not fight? I don’t have it in me today.”
“Me neither, honey. I ran across Billy’s old hunting jacket today.”
“Oh, Mom. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m not. But I’m standing up, so there ya go.”
“I’ll try to come to the party, okay?”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing, here.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry. It’s not the best of days.”
“I know the feeling.”
“I’ll call you later. I promised Wanda I’d babysit, and she’ll be over soon. You know, I can’t wait to be holding your own baby, darlin’.”
“One step at a time. I guess I’m old-fashioned enough to get married first.”
“Now don’t you start in on Wanda.”
“I’m not, I just don’t need the pressure. I’m only twenty-six.”
“I’m just saying. I love those baby cuddles, and when I get to be a grandma, I’ll climb up on the roof and scream for joy! Oops, there’s Wanda’s car. Love ya bunches.”
“Love you, too.”
I’ve seen pictures of Wanda’s baby. She’s so deliciously chubby I want to stick my nose in her neck and blow raspberries. Her wispy hair looks like golden feathers, and with her pursed mouth she’s like a pudgy little bird.
I used to fantasize about what my baby would look like, my baby with Michael. She’d have loads of thick black hair, just like her father, and hazel eyes, like me. Like my brother’s.
At a furious, rapid pounding I nearly drop my phone. The doorbell broke a few months ago, and the front door is so thick you have to jackhammer it to be heard. I hurry inside and through the front room curtains I can see a tall stack of white-blond hair.
I yank open the door.
“Where’s my son?” Mallory cries, gripping my arm like she’s drowning.
Chapter 4
Michael
Kate startles me as she says in my ear, “Oh, the copy desk will love you for that.”
Typing up the mall shopping story, I’d written, “ ‘It’s a tough economy, but we’re all hoping that with credit finally loosening up, the shopping season will give retailers a nice boost,’ said Kenneth Delaney, spokesman for the Michigan Retailer Association, otherwise known as Captain Obvious.”
I backspace past my sarcasm. “I wasn’t really going to leave that in.”
“Get your fun where you can, eh?” Kate flops into her chair at her desk, just to the right of me. “I had the fun of interviewing your father.”
“Sorry. But then, I’m interviewing your mall managers, so I guess we’re even.”
“It was fine. He returns calls, knows how to spew a pithy quote, doesn’t nitpick the story after it’s published. My idea of a perfect source.” She stretches her arms over her head, tipping back in her chair. Her blouse rides up to