Page 9 of Hot Life
I shot my sister a hateful glare because I knew she noticed that zinger from Mom. Cedric reached for my hand. “Dot, how about I refill your water.”
My father scoffed. “I think she can manage that on her own, Dr. Winslow. Or do you decide what she eats and drinks too?”
My husbands exchanged an exasperated look as I turned on my father. “No one controls me, Dad. I make my own decisions.”
He grunted. “Like running off with the first fella you meet at twenty and moving halfway across the country? Y’all didn’t consider moving back until Desmond talked sense into you.”
Des leaned on his strong elbows. “That’s not quite accurate, sir—"
“Jesus Christ!” I raised my voice in annoyance.
My mother’s jaw dropped. “Dorthea Ruth Queen-Winslow! I did not raise my oldest daughter to take our lord’s name in vain.”
“Gregory on the end of that too, now, Mom. You know that.”
Odette had slumped into her seat like melted butter, Caroline looked between us all horrified, and my husbands teetered between keeping the peace and defending me. I couldn’t take it anymore. The air was hot and my breath was short. I didn’t care that I was making a scene. I stomped out onto the deck and slumped onto the wooden stairs. Crickets chirped and tiny fireflies were making the grass sparkle and glow. My mom knew this whole time. So did my dad. Because of my sister’s big fat mouth. It was all some sort of test to see when I’d share my pregnancy. What a fool everyone probably thought I was. The screen door squeaked, and footsteps pattered onto the deck. I’d expected to see Des or Cedric sit next to me, but unfortunately, that wasn’t who joined me.
My mother’s voice rang. “Dorthea, don’t be so hard on your sister. I’m hurt you didn’t call me the moment you found out.”
I sighed, buzzing my lips like I did as a child. “My situation isn’t exactly conventional or church-appropriate, Mom. Forgive me if I didn’t know how you’d react.”
I glanced over long enough to see her purse her pink lips. The smell of her hairspray made me feel six years old again. “You and your sister have chosen your own paths. It’s not what your father or I would have picked for you, but all we can do is accept it. And a baby is always a gift, Dolly.”
I’d gotten married to a successful man and now I was pregnant, yet somehow with my parents, even that felt not good enough. I’d adopted an unconventional life, yes, but it was full of love and trust. Why couldn’t they ever just be happy for me?
Leaning back on my palms, a soft breeze cooled my neck. “My life isn’t something I want you and dad to tolerate. Des and Cedric are everything to me. And despite her drama, I like living with Odette and Caroline too. And the baby is all of ours.”
My mother shook her head softly, and I didn’t care to assess whatever emotions crossed her features. She simply said, “Your father and I will get there, Dorthea. Just give us time. We adore Desmond and we are happy for you. We want to be involved with our grandchild.”
That was about as good as it would get from my mother so I left it alone. She left and the sound of their rumbly station wagon cranked and jingled in the distance. A few moments later, my sister joined me.
“Dolly, I’m sorry—”
I cut her off. “Save it, Odie. I don’t care. It’s not like I even wanted to tell them anyway. Someone should get some enjoyment from the whole experience.”
“You’re not enjoying being pregnant?”
My cheeks heated and I gritted my teeth. “You’ve been a real pill the past few months, you know that? Throwing fits every time I don’t do something your way, poking at Desmond, now telling Mom my personal business. How about you back off, huh?”
“Fine,” she hissed, marching back inside.
The door failed to click shut and several moments later, the dogs nosed their way out, running like bats out of hell.
I swore. “Chu! Dobby! Get back here, you stupid varmints!”
Peeling myself off my sulking perch, I stomped off, barefoot in the mud after the naughty pups, wishing I, too, could nose my way out and run away.
Why were my dinner parties always a disaster?
sixteen weeks pregnant
BABY IS THE SIZE OF THE PERFUME BOTTLE THAT NOW GIVES ME A HEADACHE
In movies or shows when a pregnant woman sees her baby on the sonogram for the first time, she cries, or laughs, or shows some sort of feeling. I was hoping for that moment, that point of connection with the life growing within me. But when I clutched Cedric’s hand and stared at the black and white monitor all I felt was…hungry. Just another magical motherhood moment shining a spotlight on how inept I was. How un-mom-like. Sadness over this fact washed over me regularly.
Desmond was trapped on a mountain where a landslide washed away the only bridge to get through. It felt wrong being here without him, and he was texting me every ten minutes for updates. Cedric was more than enough of a rock for me to lean on, however, like he always was. Always calm, never wavering in his love and support. He twirled my hair around a finger as the sonographer pointed out a spine, and liver, and heart, and all the things a body needs. We denied finding out the gender but they did note it in my chart for their own records. I wondered if Cedric would see it next time he snooped through my lab results.
After the scan and Cedric animatedly explaining the miraculous growth process of the placenta, ew, we held hands on the walk to the car. “I believe you promised your favorite wife a date after our appointment.” I squeezed his arm.