Things We Didn't Say_ A Novel - Kristina Riggle [62]
Finally she says, “Thank God he’s all right. What happens now?”
I shrug, then remember she can’t see me. “I don’t know. I’ll have to let Michael deal with it, I suppose.”
“You can’t sit on the sidelines forever, if you really are going to marry him. Are you sure you still want to do that?”
“Yes,” I croak out. My throat feels raw.
“Why do you want to put yourself through all this? Edna, honey, you’re so young yet, you can have any kind of boyfriend you want, someone who can afford to pay attention to you, who doesn’t have to spend all his energy on other people, someone without an ex-wife. And don’t you want babies of your own?”
“Of course. And I’m going to, with him.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Mom—”
“He’s got teenagers, and he’s what, thirty-five?”
“Thirty-six.”
“I guarantee you he’s reaching the end of his rope with kids, especially after this. Would you be willing to give up ever having a baby of your own, to stay with him? Is he worth that?”
“I can’t talk about this right now.”
“I just don’t want to see you throw away your youth by making your life harder than it has to be. Don’t do it just to win him. This is not some TV show with the guy as the prize.”
“So we’re watching The Bachelor again, are we? Will you give me a break, please? We’ve been through hell, here.”
“I’m so sorry my TV watching isn’t up to your lofty standards.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I thought that’s why you bolted town, to go off and live your dreams. This is what you dreamed of? Teenage stepkids who run away and sneer at you?”
“You make it sound so awful.”
“I’m only repeating what you tell me. Why don’t you call Pete? He misses you. We all do.”
“That’s what this is really about. You don’t like that I left.”
“Of course I don’t. I miss my children.”
I suck in a breath at her phrasing, comparing my absence and Billy’s. “I’m right here, on the phone.”
“And never here where I can see you. Are you eating? You sound thin.”
Despite it all, I have to laugh. “I sound thin?”
My mom laughs, too, and the tension falls away like leaves from an autumn tree.
“I hate to see it so hard for you,” she says, her voice softer, still warm with laughter.
“Life isn’t supposed to be easy. If it were easy, everyone would do it.”
“Smartass.”
“My ass has never been smarter.”
We banter like this for a few more minutes and talk about my cousin’s baby’s party and how it’s been rescheduled because of the storm, and while I keep up the prattle I’m entertaining my mother’s question to me: Would I choose Michael if it meant giving up having babies?
Shortly after Michael proposed, we were up late flipping channels while the kids slept. The fire was lit and the room was dark and the ruddy light danced across his face. I kept turning the ring around and around on my finger.
Steel Magnolias was on. Julia Roberts and Sally Field were fighting over Julia wanting to have a baby, despite her character’s delicate medical condition. Michael was about to flip past, but I took the remote out of his hand.
“I understand that,” I told him. “Wanting to have a baby of her own.”
“Real subtle, Casey,” he said, smirking at me and taking the remote back.
“I was just talking about the movie.” Such a reporter. Always suspecting ulterior motives.
“But you do want to have a baby.” He said this matter-of-factly, flipping to a poker tournament on one of the ESPNs.
I shrugged, trying to act like I could take it or leave it, like he’d asked if I wanted some popcorn. It had taken a lot for Michael to risk getting married again. I feared if I pressured him, he would bolt like a skittish horse.
He playfully nudged me. “C’mon, you have baby radar. If there’s a baby within a mile of you, you’ll find it and start playing peekaboo.”
“I’m practicing for the peekaboo championship.”
“So you don’t want a baby with a broken-down old man like me?”
I was almost afraid to look at him, but I dared it. He was smiling at me softly.