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Ambush

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

An ambush is a long-established military tactic, in which the aggressors (the ambushing force) take advantage of concealment and the element of surprise to attack an unsuspecting enemy from concealed positions, such as among dense underbrush or behind hilltops
or right in the front hallway of your house — like they were just standing there, waiting for you to come in — when you're hobbling home with only one sock on
.

M
om
, Dad, Z, and J were all waiting for me when I got home.

“Sit down, kiddo,” my dad said, “we've got a few things to talk about.”

“Right now?” I asked. All I wanted to do was go upstairs to my room and listen to some music, or at least put on some clean socks.

J smiled at me. She waved. “Hey, Jo. How's it going?”

“Uh, fine.” I was totally staring at her stomach — it was still pretty flat, you really couldn't tell — and had to force my eyes to move up to her face. J had shaved the back of her head completely, but had left bangs at the front. The hair she had left was a slightly faded pink. It was turning sort of grey, to be honest. “I like your hair,” I added.

“Thanks,” she said, rubbing her fuzzy head with her left hand and smiling like she really meant it.

“Sweetie,” Mom said, “we, uh, well —”

“We've waited long enough to bring you up to speed,” said my dad. “We were under the impression that your brother” — his eyes cut right to Z, squinting, and almost kind of mean-looking — “had explained what was going on to you.”

“Sure,” I said, “he did.”

“Zim told you that he and Jen were going to be moving in, but he didn't mention why, did he?”

“No. But neither did you.”

I was just telling the truth, but both Dad and Mom looked upset when I said it. Maybe because they knew that it was the truth, too. Maybe they were feeling kind of embarrassed that they'd left the job up to their son. I hoped they were. It all seemed pretty unreal that they thought they didn't have to tell me. They hadn't been acting like adults at all — they'd been acting like scared little kids.

“Look, Jo, I just know —” Z started. I could barely look at him; it was too, too weird.

“Who cares?” I said, my eyes fixed to the ground, “It's gross, I don't want to talk about it.”

That was the truth, too. I took a tiny glance at J to see if she looked mad, or hurt, but her face was totally calm.

“I think maybe we should all sit down,” J said.

“Good idea,” said Mom, a little too quickly and a little too loudly, and she led us all into the living room.

Unlike Chloe's, our living room is tiny, like the rest of the house. We have a couch that fits two people and a big comfy chair next to it, but otherwise there's nowhere to sit, so we stood around for a minute, trying to figure out who would sit where. Mom wanted J to take the chair, but J thought Mom deserved it.

“Jen, really, you take the chair,” said Mom finally.

“Okay,” she said, “if you insist.”

So J nestled into the chair, sitting with her feet up and bent underneath her, while Mom and Dad sat down on the couch, and Z and I picked spots on the floor. It was only when I crossed my legs that Mom noticed I only had one sock on.

“What happened to your foot, Jo?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just some broken glass, I stepped on some, I mean.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Let me go get you a clean pair of socks.”

And Mom was up and out of the room faster than I'd ever seen her move before.

“Does it hurt?” J asked, pointing to my foot.

“Oh, no. It's not a big deal,” I said, staring at my foot to distract myself from J. “I was just being stupid.”

“We've got to get you some steel-toed boots,” she said. “They've got tons of them at the Army Surplus store downtown.”

“Yeah?” I said, thinking about how cool I would look in a pair of combat boots. Tough and cool, like J.

“Yeah, we'll have to go sometime. I've been meaning to pick up another pair, anyway. The soles are coming off on mine, so it kinda looks like they're talking to you when I walk.” She held her hands up like puppets, flapping her fingers up and down to demonstrate. I couldn't help it, I started giggling.

Mom reappeared and handed me a pair of fuzzy pink socks, the ones I never wear.

“Here you go, babe. What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Just a little invisible boot puppetry,” J said, making her hands take a little bow.

Mom smiled, but it looked forced. Just her mouth smiled, not her eyes.

“I think it might be time to explain,” Z said.

And then they all looked at each other like they expected someone else to do the talking.

“Jo, your brother —” Mom started, but then the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

“I'm pregnant,” J said.

My mom looked away. Dad sort of grimaced. Z reached over and put his hand on J's knee.

“Yeah,” I said, before I realized what I was admitting, “I kinda knew that already.”

Everyone froze. They looked like a perfect tableau of themselves. Stuck, like the instant after a bomb has landed, right before it explodes, ruining everything it touches. Mom looked terrified, Dad was confused, Z held a poker face, and J kept smiling.

“How'd you know?” Z asked.

“When you guys came over here before. When you first told Mom and Dad,” I said. “I heard.”

“You were listening?” Mom asked.

“It was kind of hard not to.”

“Why didn't you say something?” Dad asked.

“I don't know. Why didn't you?”

This one was a second bomb, a smaller one, but I could see the blast in a wave that passed over everyone's faces. J was still the only one smiling.

“I didn't think it was right to confuse you like that,” said my mom.

“I think we're all pretty confused,” said J.

“Some more than others,” Mom snapped.

“Whoa,” Z said, “Mom. Not here, okay?”

We all turned to look at Mom, whose face had instantly flushed bright red.

“I'm sorry,” she said in a small voice. “Jen, I apologize.”

J had flinched a little at Mom's words, but didn't seem too fazed.

“It's fine,” she said. “We're asking for a lot here, I know. It's hard for you guys, for all of us.”

“It's no excuse,” said Mom.

“Well, anyway,” J said turning to me, “sorry about leaving you out of the loop, Jo. Or trying to, anyway.”

“It wasn't right,” Dad said.

“No,” Z said, “it wasn't.”

“Okay,” I said, “sure. It's, uh, it's fine.”

“We just wanted to wait until things were a bit more … decided,” Mom said. “We wanted to have an idea of what our lives were going to look like, moving ahead, before we told you what was going on.”

“You guys don't have to baby me,” I paused.
Baby
. What a dumb word to choose. “You could have just told me.”

“Yes, you're right,” Dad said. “Anyway, we know that now.”

“So Zim and Jen are going to have the baby and live in Zim's old room?” I asked. When I finally said the words out loud it sounded so ridiculous that I was almost embarrassed, though I couldn't tell if it was for me or for them.

“Not exactly,” said Z. “We'll be staying there for now, though.”

“We're going to have to get a bit creative once the baby's born,” said my dad. “I'm going to renovate the basement so it's more of an apartment. So the two of them — well, three I guess — can have some privacy.”

“And you're definitely going to have it?” I asked. “I mean, keep it?”

“Your mom and I have been helping these guys sort out their options.”

“Yup,” J said, “and this is our choice. We're going to have the baby together. Zim's going to be an amazing dad.”

Z rubbed her leg and nodded.

“What about Jen's family?” I asked, afraid to even look at her, afraid of how real this was all becoming. Surprised, though, that my mouth seemed to be asking questions without my brain's consent. All the stuff I'd been wondering about since I first heard, but had been too anxious to think about.

“I'm not really in touch with my family,” she said.

“Oh. Sorry. Um, why not?”

“It's complicated,” said Z.

“Sorry,” I said again.

“Don't be,” said J, giving me another warm, meaning-it smile.

“Are you guys going to get married?”

“We might,” said Z.

“We may,” said J.

“They should,” Mom said.

“But it's their choice,” said Dad.

“And if we do get hitched, you've got be my maid of honour, okay?”

“Sure,” I said.

“With combat boots.”

I giggled again, and Mom's tight expression loosened up just a bit.

“I think it's going to be great having you guys here,” Dad said, though like Mom's forced smile I could tell he was trying to make himself mean it. “Zim, maybe I can finally teach you how to drive, huh?”

Z fought a frown. “Yeah, sure, you bet. It'll be great.”

“Ha,” said J, “we're going to be parents
and
drivers. Our friends won't know what to do with us.”

“It'll be great,” Z said again. And this time it sounded like he meant it.

“Why don't we all go out for some dinner?” Dad said. “You know, to celebrate.”

But from the impact of this giant secret falling so abruptly off my shoulders — or maybe from my earlier blood loss — I felt completely exhausted.

“Um, I think I might just go to bed,” I said.

“You okay, honey?” Mom asked.

“Yeah, I just want to stay here. You guys should go, though.”

“I'll stay with you,” said Mom.

“Okay,” said Dad, “if you're sure. Zim, Jen and I can talk about plans for the basement. What do you guys feel like, burgers?”

“Jen's a vegetarian, Dad,” said Z.

“Right, right, I forgot. How about Thai food?”

“That would be great,” J said.

And the three of them got their coats and left.

Mother

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

A mother (or mum/mom) is a woman who has raised a child, given birth to a child, and/or supplied the ovum that united with a sperm that grew into a child. Because of the complexities and differences of a mother's social, cultural, and religious definitions and roles, it is challenging to specify a universally acceptable definition for the term.

A mother messes up sometimes. But eventually she makes it up to you.

M
om
asked me if I was hungry, and even though I wanted to be alone to think about what had just happened, my rumbly stomach answered for me. She nuked a tub of frozen mac and cheese for me and opened up a can of ginger ale. “For your stomach,” she said.

She sat across the kitchen table from me while I ate, not saying much, but smiling in a far-away way. It was kind of annoying, but also sort of nice.

When I finished eating, Mom went upstairs to run me a bath. She even sat next to me on the bathroom floor once I got in. She hasn't done that since I was really little. I felt kind of weird about having her sit there while I was naked in the tub — even if she is my mom — but I didn't want her to leave either, so I didn't say anything about it. I think she was surprised I didn't try to chase her out. Part of me felt like I should punish her for the way she and Dad, and even Z, had kept the baby a secret, but a bigger part of me (a babyish part, I know) just wanted my mom to be my mom.

She looked calm, maybe a little shell-shocked. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared straight ahead, not looking at me as she spoke.

“I'm sorry we didn't tell you sooner,” she said.

“It's okay.” Which I didn't mean.

“No, it's not. It wasn't right to keep you in the dark like that. But I'm upset about this, and I didn't want you to be upset, too. It's okay for you to be feeling this way, any way. Any way you feel is normal, I want you to know that.”

“Uh-huh.” The bar of soap I'd been holding slipped out of my grasp, and I went searching for it through the bubbles. “Why are you upset?”

“Oh, lots of things. It doesn't matter. That baby is going to have a lot of love, that's the important thing.” She turned to face me, and I sank lower into the water. “But is there anything else bothering you, something at school?”

I nodded.

I told her most of what had happened with Chloe. About the locker and the twenty-dollar glass.

“That's pretty crummy about Chloe's locker. She was just upset, Jo, that must have been why she got mad about the glass.”

“Yeah, I know, but it's not like I was the one who wrote on her locker. And breaking the glass was an accident.”

“Why don't I call her mom and offer to buy a replacement? I'm sure we can find something nice at the mall.”

“Okay,” I said, grateful that at least one of my problems had a simple solution.

“You know, my girlfriends and I were always getting into fights when I was your age. I've always been impressed at how well you and your friends get along.”

“Yeah. Up 'til now.”

“Yes,” she said, “maybe.”

Then she got up and kissed the top of my head.

“If you want to talk any more about whatever's going on, I'm around.”

I nodded again.

“And hey, maybe when we pick up a replacement glass for Chloe's mom, we can take you to get a haircut, too. There's a new place that just opened at Cloverfield, it looks pretty cool.”

I knew that she was overcompensating for having kept the secret about Z and J for so long, and that she had no idea what cool was, but it still felt good. I wanted to resent her for it, but it was pretty nice having my mom back.

“I'm always here for you, kiddo. Okay?”

She was really laying it on thick.

“What about once the baby's here?” I asked.

She looked me in the eyes and squinted hard, not in a mean way like Dad's, just like she was concentrating.

“I will always be here for you.”