The Breakup Mix (8 page)

Three jaws dropped open, and all of the air in the room went into the lungs of my closest friends who all started speaking at once. “Holy shit! Are you serious? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

I buried my head in my hands. “I know! I don’t know how this happened.”

“What did Mark say?” Katie asked.

I shook my head. “I haven’t told him, yet.”

“Are you going to?” Chance asked.

I looked at her. “I don’t know.”

Michelle interrupted. “What do you mean you’re not going to tell him? You have to tell him. He can’t have a baby out there and—” She caught herself and leaned back against the couch. “You’re not going to have an abortion, are you?”

I shrugged and tossed the pamphlets from the doctor on the table in front of her. “Oh, I have all kinds of ‘options’ according to this shit.”

Michelle grabbed the pamphlets and flipped through them before she slammed them in her lap. “This shit pisses me off. They’re children! Babies! And they treat them like they’re disposable.”

Chance looked at me. “Michelle, not now, okay?”

“If not now, when?” Katie yelled. “She has a big decision to make, and look at Dani! She’d give her right tit to be in Alissa’s position right now, and I think it’s pretty fucking insensitive to even discuss abortion in her presence.”

Michelle’s face brightened as she gasped. “Oh! Alissa! Give it to Dani!”

I looked at Dani who stared at the pillow on her lap. Her expression was blank, but her face showed the pure anguish resting in her chest. She sighed. “It’s not that simple, Michelle.”

“Why isn’t it?” Chelle looked at me and shrugged. “Why isn’t it that easy? You’re going to have a baby; she wants a baby—you don’t. You’re as close as sisters can be without the shared uterus.”

Dani looked at me. “I would never ask you to do that, Lis. This isn’t like borrowing a dress or a car. This is a human life—your life for the next however-many months. I want you to do what’s best for you,” she whispered as she wiped tears from her face. “I need some air.” She stood and went to the back porch.

Chance looked at Michelle who stared back at her. “What?”

“Michelle, sometimes you just don’t think before you speak, do you?” She stood up and stormed off to talk to Dani.

Michelle looked at Katie and shrugged. “What? It’s a great solution.” She looked at me. “Lis, you have an opportunity right now to give Dani the best gift ever.”

“What if I can’t go through with it in the end?” I cried. “What if I go through this and decide I’m going to keep it?”

Michelle sat back and sighed. “I didn’t think about that. God, I’m an idiot.”

Katie patted her hand. “You’re not an idiot, Michelle. It’s a great idea, but Alissa’s right. Can you imagine handing off one of your kids when they were born?”

She threw her hand in my direction. “Yeah but it’s not like she’ll never see the little guy ever again. She could be as involved as she wants to be.”

I stood up. “I need to go lie down. Lock up when you’re done, here.”

I walked down the hallway and tried to imagine a baby crawling toward me with a dirty diaper. I looked at the guest rooms and tried to envision cribs, playpens, and changing tables. The thought of twins solidified my need to lie down.

Chapter Nine

Don’t Speak

Michelle

As I drove home, I wondered if I had any friends left after the biggest open-mouth-insert-foot moment in my life. Chance and Dani were still on the back porch when Katie and I slipped out the front. Sometimes I wish I could stop thoughts in my head from becoming words out of my mouth.

I walked in the front door of the house and saw Gibson, Martin, and Brandon sitting on the L-shaped sectional watching television.

Gibson sighed. “Thank God you’re home. We’re starving!”

I frowned and looked at Brandon. “You didn’t cook supper?”

He snapped, “No, I didn’t know you were going to be gone this long.”

I pointed to the clock. “It is six-thirty, Brandon!” He slammed the remote on the couch cushion and stood up. Martin fidgeted in his seat and looked at me. I put my purse and keys on the floor by the door. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll whip something up quick-like. Go ahead and sit down.” I smiled at Martin. “Hey, buddy. What are you watching?”

He smiled. “Discovery Channel.”

I gave him a thumbs up and kissed Gibson on the forehead. “Hey kiddo. Put down that game and do something else for a while, okay?”

He groaned but complied. I ignored Brandon’s stare and went into the kitchen to pilfer through the fridge to see what was easy and fast to make. Trying to honor my promise to Martin, I didn’t slam things around and say the forty-eight hateful things running through my mind toward Brandon. But, oh, I thought them.

There weren’t enough leftovers for the whole family, so I grabbed pork chops out of the freezer and threw them in the microwave to thaw. I turned on the oven and went to the cupboard to see what I could make to go with it.

Brandon came into the kitchen and asked, “What are you making?”

“Pork chops and stuffing,” I said as I grabbed the box out of the cupboard.

“That’ll take a while,” he said.

I slammed the box on the countertop and glared at him. Martin’s face came to mind, so I took a deep breath. “Nah, thirty minutes tops. Did you have a good day?”

He picked up the box of stuffing and examined the label as he shrugged. “It wasn’t bad. Didn’t do much really. Got to play nine holes with a potential client, so that was good.”

I’m certain steam was rolling out of my ears. I turned to the beeping microwave and rotated the pork chops. “You went golfing today?”

“Yeah, I sucked as usual.” He put the box down.

Martin brought some papers into the kitchen. “Mom, will you help me with my homework? I can’t figure out this math problem.”

I yelled to Gibson, “Gib, is your homework all done?”

“Not yet. I just need to study my spelling words.”

I leveled my eyes at Brandon. “What time did you get home?”

“Around four, I think. Why?” He grabbed the tea pitcher out of the refrigerator, drained it until there was an inch left in the bottom and put it back in the fridge.

I slammed my hand against the closing refrigerator door and snatched the pitcher. I waved it in front of Brandon. “Can a family of five drink this for supper?”

“It’ll probably be easy for you since you’re good at math,” Martin said.

“I’m in the middle of making dinner, bud. I’ll help you after we eat, but right now I need to focus on this so I don’t burn it.” I turned to look at Brandon. “Unless, of course, you would like to contribute to your son’s education and help him.”

Brandon threw up his hands. “Oh no, I can’t do that new math crap,” he said as he walked into the living room.

“Then help Gibson with his spelling!” I yelled to his back. I heard the front door close and squinted my eyes tightly.

When I opened them, Martin was staring at me. “Are you okay, Mom?”

I turned to the sink and rinsed the tea pitcher then started a pot of water boiling. “Yep, I’m good. Tell me about your day.”

He leaned against the counter. “It was okay.” He picked up the box of stuffing. “This can be microwaved. Want me to fix it?”

I caught the sob in my throat and choked it down. I whispered, “Thank you, honey. That would be awesome. Just follow the directions for the microwave.” I reached over his head and pulled a bowl out of the cabinet. “Use this and follow the directions.”

Del Ray sauntered into the kitchen. “Hi Mom.” She opened the refrigerator and asked, “Where’s the tea?”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m making some more.” I grabbed the pork chops out of the microwave to prep for baking.

She closed the door. “How was your day?”

“It was okay.”

“What was the big emergency with Alissa?” she asked as she grabbed the tea bags out of the cupboard and started dipping three tea bags in the nearly boiling water. “Is that water in the pitcher ready for the tea?”

“Yeah don’t forget the sugar or there will be a riot.” I winked at her. “Thank you for helping.” New tears stung at my eyes. I finished seasoning the pork chops and put them in the oven.

“So what’s the deal with Alissa?” she asked again.

I shrugged. “She got some news today that was pretty shocking, so she needed her friends.”

“Is she okay?” She poured the sugar in the hot tea then dumped it in the tea pitcher.

“Yeah, she’s okay. It’s private, so I can’t talk about it, but she’s fine. But thanks for asking.” I grinned at her and touched the shaved side of her head. “Doesn’t this itch?”

She laughed. “No, I think it feels pretty cool. The purple is fading faster than I hoped, so I’ll have to do it again this weekend.”

“Oh great. I can’t wait to lose the bathroom for two hours again.”

“Oh whatever. You should let me dye your hair too.”

“I can’t imagine how much your father would love that.” However, the idea of pissing him off held a vast appeal to me.

Martin was done with the stuffing. “I think this is ready to go, Mom.”

“Okay, put it in the microwave but don’t turn it on. We’ll cook it about five minutes before the pork chops are done.”

“Wanna do this math homework now?”

I leaned over to see if Brandon had snuck back in, but he was probably in the garage cleaning his golf clubs. I sighed. “Sure. Do you have a pencil?” He waved one in front of my face. “Okay, have a seat at the table.”

I had just finished helping Martin with his worksheet when the timer went off announcing the pork chops were ready. It was seven fifteen and an hour later than when we normally eat. Del Ray must have known I was about to lose my shit earlier, because she set the table around Martin and me and put ice in the glasses before she left the kitchen. I turned the microwave on and pulled the pork chops out of the oven.

“What else do you need, Mom?” Martin asked.

“Grab the applesauce and a spoon, and then I think we’re ready. Gib, go holler at your dad and tell him dinner’s ready.”

“’kay,” he yelled.

“Smells good, Mom,” Del Ray said as she came into the kitchen.

I looked sideways at her. “What’s gotten into you?”

She looked at me with a blank expression. “What do you mean?”

“This.” I swirled my finger in the air. “This extremely nice, polite behavior I’m seeing tonight. What’d you do?”

She chuckled. “Nothing, I didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” She looked at Martin then at me.

“Well, it’s very nice. Keep it up.” I winked at her and mouthed, “Thank you” when Martin turned his back.

When Martin was born, I had a hell of a time convincing Del Ray that he was my baby and not hers. She was three and half years old when he joined our family, and she was convinced I’d brought her a real-life, breathing, pooping baby doll to play with. When he cried, she took off running to get to him before I could so she could take care of him first. It was cute until it wasn’t. Her maternal instincts toward him faded when he started walking and took her toys out of her room to play with them in the toilet. After that, she parented from afar until he started school, and then it started all over again. She had to escort him through the crosswalk, she had to keep an eye on him at recess, and twice she got me called into the principal’s office for interfering with a teacher scolding him on the playground.

Last year she discovered she was a teenager and found that friends were more important than her nine-year-old brother, so she ditched him. That was a hard transition for the little guy, but he paid it forward and took his turn as the big kid with Gibson. Seeing her concerned about him again gave me a flicker of hope that my little girl was still inside that freakish-looking teenager sitting at the table.

We were all sitting at the table when Brandon waltzed in and went to the sink to wash his hands.

“Come on, Dad, I’m starving,” Gibson said.

Brandon dried his hands. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Smells good, honey.”

“Thanks,” I said coldly.

“No bread?” he asked as he sat down.

I passed the pork chops to Del Ray. “You don’t need bread. We have stuffing.”

“I want some bread,” he mumbled as he scooted his chair away from the table.

Everyone at the table groaned and put down their forks. We have a rule that no one eats until we’re all sitting around the table. I looked at Gibson’s face smashed against his hand as he stared at the applesauce. “Go ahead and eat, guys. It’s getting cold.”

The kids looked at me wide-eyed and said in unison, “Really?” Forks and knives scraped against plates in record speed.

Brandon returned to the table with a bun in his hand. He trimmed his pork chop and slapped it on the bun before he took a bite and sighed.

I stared at my husband and wondered when he turned into such a selfish prick. Watching his temples bounce up and down as he chewed annoyed me. I glanced around the table and saw my children devouring their meal. I felt my chest tighten. “Dare I ask if you guys had a snack after school?”

Martin and Gibson shook their heads, but Del Ray answered. “Nope.”

“So, you guys haven’t eaten anything since lunch?” I turned to Gibson. “What time do you eat lunch, buddy? Ten-fifty?”

“Yeah,” he said in between bites.

I looked at Brandon who was scooping stuffing onto his fork. “That’s nearly nine hours ago, Brandon.”

He stopped and looked at me. “What?”

“These kids didn’t have an after-school snack.”

He shrugged. “They’re old enough to say if they’re hungry or not,” he said as he went back to his meal.

I looked at Del Ray who rolled her eyes toward Martin. I followed her gaze and watched him scoot his stuffing around on his plate.

I cleared my throat. “Martin, tell me about school today.”

He looked at me and shrugged. “Not much to tell. I got an A on my science test.” He grinned.

“Good job! Was that the one over the planets?”

“Yep, thanks for helping me study.”

“You’re welcome. Gibson, after dinner we’ll work on those spelling words.”

“I’m too tired to study, Mom,” he groaned.

“If you can play video games or watch TV, you can spell words out loud to me . . . or your dad.”

Brandon chugged his tea and shook his head. “I’ve got to finish cleaning my clubs after dinner.” He set his drink down and looked at Del Ray’s dropped jaw. “What?”

She pointed her fork at me. “She worked, went to see a friend, cooked dinner
and
helped Martin with his homework …”

“That’s enough out of you, Del Ray,” Brandon said, ending the conversation.

We ate the rest of the meal in silence, but I had found an unexpected ally in Del Ray.

After dinner was over, the table had been cleared, and the kitchen cleaned (courtesy of my new teammate and myself), I sat down with Gibson and gave him a practice spelling test. He aced it, so we didn’t spend much more time on it. Once showers were done and clothes laid out for the next morning, it was nine-thirty, and I was exhausted.

I walked into the bedroom, and Brandon was lying down watching TV looking as relaxed as he could be. “That was a good dinner, Chelle.”

I didn’t answer him. I gathered my clothes and went to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. Gibson’s clothes and puddles of water littered the bathroom floor, but he was already in bed (hopefully sleeping), so I picked them up and wiped up the water. I glanced at the sagging floor by the bathtub and wondered how much longer that floor was going to last before needing repair.

I climbed into bed and groaned at how awesome my bed felt. I stretched out then curled onto my side. Brandon and I had scrimped and scraped by on many purchases, but we went all out for a good bed. Best investment we ever made.

He rolled over and leaned against my back as he rubbed my leg. “Well, hello there.”

I wished I had a Taser in my bedside table. I placed my hand over his and pushed it off my leg. “You gotta be kidding me. No way, jackass.”

Brandon huffed and rolled over. He flipped channels until I rolled over, grabbed the remote, turned off the television then threw the remote into a pile of clothes in the corner. I looked at him and smiled. “Good night.”