The setback, p.11
The Setback, page 11
“So it’s a boy?” Ethan asks.
Natalie’s lips compress.
“A girl?”
“She said she doesn’t want to know.” Natalie ducks her head.
“But I didn’t say that,” Ethan says.
I laugh. “It’s fine,” I say. “You can tell him.”
“After you leave the room?”
Now that I’ve made a decision and said it out loud, I feel galvanized. “No, you can say it in front of me. I guess if it’s a girl I might look for different parents than if it’s a boy.”
“Why?” Natalie looks genuinely interested.
I shrug. “Maybe for a girl, a girlier mother, or a more protective-looking dad. If it’s a boy, I’ll want a dad who wants to go outside and play with him. A father who’ll be a great example.”
“Well, start looking for girly mothers, then,” Natalie says. “This baby is definitely a girl.”
Something about the news makes me cry, which is embarrassing. I decided not to keep her, but it feels like I’m closer to her than ever before. My little girl.
“Let’s call her Natalie,” I say as we’re leaving the hospital.
“Natalie?” Ethan asks.
“It’s just a temporary name, and I like the idea of calling her after the first person who was excited for us.”
“Even though there is no ‘us’ for this little baby,” Ethan says. “You still feel good about that?”
I nod. “It’s the right thing, for her and for me.”
“Alright.” He squeezes my hand.
I wondered whether, when I made my decision, he really would agree with whatever I chose. It seems like he will. On the drive back into town, he asks me a lot of well-considered questions.
Have I looked into adoption agencies? Have I considered whether I want her to go to a family where she’ll be an only child, or where she’ll have siblings? Do I want a placement for her that’s close or somewhere far away? Do I want an open adoption or one that’s closed?
He has clearly given this more thought than I have.
We’re nearly back to Donna’s when my stomach growls. Since becoming pregnant, I’m hungry all the time. No wonder I’ve gained so much weight. “Hey, can we stop and grab some ice cream?”
“It’s twenty-five degrees outside,” he says. “How about we grab some sandwiches?” His eyes light up. “Or we could go by Brownings. They have a pre-turkey-day special, and it has gravy on top of—”
“Natalie wants ice cream.”
He sighs. “Oh, Natalie. You’re so picky, and you’re going to make your mother really, really cold.” He freezes.
And so do I.
I mean, I am her mother, even if I’m giving her up. But no one has ever called me that before. Natalie’s mother. So cut and dried, like I’m a high school graduate. Like I’m a photographer. Like I’m Ethan’s girlfriend.
I’m Natalie’s mother.
The words are still tumbling around in my brain when I trot into the True Value and practically sprint to the back of the store. It is freezing outside, and I didn’t bother zipping my coat up all the way, so it’s gusty, too.
I’m actually not sure my coat will work for much longer. I wonder where people buy maternity clothes when they live in Manila. It’s not like we have a department store. I’m tossing three pints into my little handheld basket instead of two, depressed at the thought, when I hear a familiar voice.
“Beth.”
It’s Hannah.
I turn around slowly.
Her eyes drop to the ice cream. “Wow. Someone has a weird craving.” She laughs.
“It’s for Ethan’s family,” I lie. “They do these ice cream nights.”
“You’re really together, then?” She looks surprised. “I heard you’re taking online classes, and my uncle told me you were doing a great job with his tours, but I kind of figured you’d change your mind and decide to leave for college anyway.”
I shrug.
“Looks like you’ve been going to a few too many family ice cream nights.” Her giggle’s irritating. She looks totally different than she did in high school. I heard she went to a community college in Salt Lake, so it’s not like she’s really flying high. But I guess it’s better than just staying here, doing nothing.
“Time with Ethan’s family is the best part of my week.”
“Beth?” Ethan’s trotting down the aisle. “Did you find the ice cream?”
Oh, no. Hannah’s on him like white on rice. “Ethan! So this really is for your family’s ice cream night?”
Ethan frowns, but he’s his mother’s son. “Of course it is.” He reaches past me and grabs a pint of Rocky Road. “Make sure to get that. It’s Gabe’s favorite.” He winks at me.
“Well, I better run. Mom just wanted me to pick up some cornbread. You have to make it a few days before you want to make the stuffing, you know, or it gets all goopy.”
“What’s she talking about?” Ethan asks. “Remind me not to eat her stale stuffing.”
I laugh.
I’m not in a hurry to race to the register, since Hannah’s checking out, so I kind of shuffle my way forward, my eyes caught by the new gift display. Traditionally, Manila’s shopping game is not strong. There just isn’t anywhere to buy something for someone if you didn’t have time to plan a trip into a bigger town like Green River. So if you have a bridal shower, a birthday party, or a holiday like Christmas or Valentine’s Day coming up, you’re kind of in trouble.
I guess they’ve heard our complaining. There’s now a five-foot section labeled ‘gifts.’ Right in the upper right corner of it is a tiny little pair of pink fleece boots.
For an itty bitty baby girl.
My hand shifts without thinking. I tug them off the metal prong and turn them gently toward me. My fingers brush against the soft fleece, and then I compulsively press them against my cheek.
The profile photo of Natalie pops into my mind. “She’s posing,” the brand new ultrasound tech had said.
I have no idea what I’m doing, with this pregnancy or in life. Ethan has no idea how to be a father. My parents will hate the idea of me keeping her, and they’ll be worse than useless in helping me raise a child.
If I have a baby, online classes will become my only option, and I can forget about going to workshops. I won’t have the money for it, for one, but I also won’t have the time. New babies need regular sleep routines, diaper changes, baths, you name it. You can’t just head out on a trip and expect other people to watch them. No matter which way I look at it, I should really find little Natalie a better home than I can provide, with a more competent mother. But holding those pink booties and thinking of that profile photo, I can’t do it.
“I want what’s best for Natalie,” I say. “That has been my number one priority since before I knew she was, well, Natalie.” I sigh. “But my heart hurts right now, because I want to keep her.”
And Ethan whoops and picks me up, spinning me around. Then he kisses me right on the mouth. “So do I. Let’s do it.”
10
Donna
There are many things that I like waking up to in the morning. Since moving into this tiny house on the edge of town, I’ve actually grown reaccustomed to a lot of morning experiences I never had anywhere I lived while I was in California.
The pleasant chirping of birds, for instance.
I’m sure California has plenty of birds, but not near where I lived. I mostly heard honking and shouts when I was on campus, and once we moved into San Fran, it was even worse.
The fresh breeze, when it’s not the middle of winter, inspires me to often leave my window open all night.
Once, right after moving into this new house, I even woke up to the sound of snapping twigs from a deer and its fawn outside, having breakfast on my front lawn. They bounded away right after we made eye contact, but it was fun to see the wildlife that’s completely at home here, in Manila city-proper.
But if I had to choose my least favorite thing to wake up to, it would be a phone call from Charles. Or Patrick, I guess. So when the incessant ringing wakes me and I see my brother’s name on my caller ID, I roll over and try to go back to sleep. Usually he’ll leave me an angry voicemail or send me a nasty text and then ease up for a bit. Not today, though. Today, he calls back three more times in quick succession.
I stuff a pillow over my head like I’ve seen people do in movies and television shows, but that just keeps me from being able to breathe and makes my face hot.
“Oh fine,” I shout. “You win, you stupid jerk.”
I’m swiping ‘talk’ when Aiden’s head pokes through my door. “Mom?”
I wave him away. “It’s fine. Mom’s fine.”
“You are, huh?” Patrick sounds even angrier than I am. “Well, that makes one of us. How dare you keep this a secret!?”
“Keep what a secret?” I yawn mid-what, so it comes out sounding more like ‘Keep whu-hayut a secret?’
“That my daughter’s pregnant!”
I drop my phone.
It takes me a moment or two to relocate it from where it’s hiding beneath the mountain of puffiness my duvet has turned into. “Patrick?”
“—laughable, given how you belittled us for being bad parents. I can’t wait to see what Aiden does. I’m sure that whatever it is, it’ll land him in jail like his father. Or maybe he’ll overdose on drugs and die, thanks to your stellar parenting.”
Patrick, as always, deserves a nice hard slap from a two-by-four. He always takes things too far, like his measurement for what’s appropriate just broke off and he never bothered to replace it. “Stop ranting for a moment and go back to what you said before.”
“Are you really going to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“Are you sure she really is?” I think about the bulky sweaters and jackets she’s been wearing. She’s also started wearing a lot of scarves and hoodies, even around the house. But that’s just a teenager, finding her style, right?
Could she be pregnant?
“Who would the father even be?” I ask. “And wait. How do you know?” There’s no doubt in my mind that Beth would never confide in her father about something she hasn’t yet told me.
“Well you see, Donna, I know because I got an insurance statement, so I was hoping the responsible adult she was living with, you know, the one who said I was a miserable father and a terrible example, might have some answers for me about things like who the father might be. My assumption is that it’s that unwashed disgrace who stole Jed’s ranch from us.”
“Actually, you cost them their ranch,” I snap. “They are such great people that out of the kindness of her heart, Amanda Saddler set your horrible injustice straight.”
“I’m sorry,” Patrick says. “Your high horse is in a ditch right now, Donna. Once you’ve hosed it off, call me back.”
This is definitely one of the worst moments of my life. My horrible, selfish, obtuse brother is calling me out. And he’s justified. “I’ll look into it.”
He’s talking again, but I don’t have the energy to deal with any more, so I hang up. I know I should be eating crow and apologizing and whatever, but first I need to know what exactly is happening under my own roof.
I normally throw on whatever clothing is near the top of my drawers and call it good, but today, that feels insufficient. For women, clothing is a little like armor, and I need to be ready for battle. I try on a dozen blouses before I find one that says both ‘you can trust me,’ and ‘how could you?’ Then I’m thrown into a tailspin about whether I should pair a skirt and heels with it, to tell her that I’m the boss here, or pants and cross my legs, to show her we’re still friends.
By the third pair of pants, I realize that I’m just stalling because I’m afraid. I have an elementary-school-aged little boy. I’m not equipped to be advising a teenager who has probably gotten pregnant.
And what if it’s my fault?
Was I delinquent in keeping an eye on her?
Beth seems so put-together and sensible compared to her father. She’s kind, empathetic, and polite, and she’s dating Ethan Brooks. Is there a dreamier guy she could be dating?
How could this happen?
I mean, I know how it happened. But I’m still spinning. I text Mrs. Earl and tell her I’ll be a bit late, and then I square my shoulders, give myself a little pep talk, and push through my door into the tiny hallway.
Ethan’s already here. He and Beth are laughing. It looks like he cooked again. That boy gets up, feeds his animals, takes care of the other ranch-type things, and then books it over here to eat breakfast with Beth most mornings. Is he really the kind of kid who would have unprotected sex with a teenager? Clearly I’m a bad judge of character. First Charlie, and then this.
“Are you pregnant?”
Apparently, when I’m confused, I just blurt things out. I clap a hand over my mouth, as if that may change the reality of what I just said, or the possibility that it’s true.
“I am.” Beth’s voice is quiet, but it’s not scared or nervous. She clearly didn’t just find out.
“And is Ethan the father?”
Ethan beams. “Yes.”
Beth shakes her head. “No.”
“What?” I rub my hand across my face, but I can’t hide from this. I drop my hands back to my sides. “How?”
“Ethan’s not the father,” Beth says. “It was a boy my parents dragged me out on a boat with.”
“Oh.” Does that mean this isn’t my fault? “So, when is the baby due?”
“I had my twenty-week ultrasound a few days ago,” she says. “And I’m due on tax day.”
“April fifteenth?” I shake my head. “Oh, Beth. How did this happen?”
“We’re excited,” Ethan says. “We decided a few days ago to keep her.”
Her. It’s a girl.
I want a little girl so badly that I could sob right now, and Beth didn’t even mean to get pregnant. Why is the world like this? People who don’t want babies have them. Meanwhile, I probably won’t be able to have one at all.
As if my brain is too occupied processing other things, the rest of the words Ethan just said register. “Wait, we, as in you and Beth?” I mean, they are dating, and he clearly knew about all this.
Ethan nods. “At first Beth wanted to put her up for adoption, but then we saw these little pink shoes. . .and.” He throws his hands into the air. “She changed her mind.”
She got pregnant from some guy she met on a boat.
She decided to keep it because she saw some pink shoes?
Oh, yes, this baby’s in good hands. “Okay.”
And now I have to call my brother and tell him he’s going to be a grandfather. I feel sick.
“Are you alright?” Beth stands up. “You don’t look very good.”
“Yeah, you’re really pale.” Ethan stands, too.
“I’m fine.” I swallow and breathe in and out a few times. “I’m totally fine. I have to get my son ready and off to school.” Yes. I can focus on Aiden. The child I have. The one who is already mine. Not the baby girl that a few days ago Beth didn’t even want.
Getting Aiden ready to meet the bus takes eleven minutes, and Beth and Ethan are still in the kitchen when I come back inside. I’m going to have to get used to dealing with this all the time. I may as well find out everything I can right now.
“Your dad knows,” I say.
Beth’s head snaps up, her pupils dilate, and her breathing gets shallow. “What? Why?”
“Didn’t you wonder how I found out?”
“I thought maybe you overheard us,” she says.
I shake my head slowly. “Your dad called me. Apparently the insurance sent some kind of statement to him, and voila. Better than a baby announcement.”
“Oh, no.”
“Did you think he’d never notice?” I ask. “I mean, he’s not the best dad, but he’s got eyes.”
Beth sighs. “I figured I could put him off for a while, and let’s face it. We both do better when we don’t see each other.”
“Where are you and the baby going to live?”
Beth glances back toward Ethan like he might have the answers.
“My mom and Steve are remodeling his house, and when they’re done, I’ll have the ranch house to myself. We’ll get married, and then she can move in.”
“We’ll get married?” Beth’s face is incredulous, like he just suggested the craziest thing in the world.
“If we’re keeping her, don’t you think we should?” Ethan looks entirely serious. He wants to raise a baby that’s not his, marry the mother, and provide a home for them all to live in. He’s like a fairy tale prince on a white horse, charging in to the rescue. Except with a cowboy hat and very nice Lucchesse boots.
Beth would probably be fired as a princess in two seconds flat. She looks utterly unimpressed. “Ethan, we talked about this.”
“But that was before you said you wanted to keep her,” he says. “It’s different now, isn’t it?”
She sighs.
“It’s not?” Ethan drags his chair closer, focused only on Beth. “Then what am I going to be to this baby? If we aren’t getting married, if I’m not really going to be helping, then I’m what? Your boyfriend? Just some guy who’s hanging around?”
Beth inhales and stares out the front window. “It’s complicated, Ethan. I don’t want us to rush through things that are supposed to be these big, well-considered decisions.”
“Like having a baby?” He arches one eyebrow. “Because that’s already happening. I just don’t understand why you’re upset at me for wanting to be there for you and the baby.”
“It’s not the right reason to get married,” Beth says. “And it’s not the right way to do it, either. My dad married my mom to save her from her parents controlling her life, and he ended up making things worse.” Her voice drops to a whisper, and I feel a little bad for standing here, watching. “I don’t want that for us.”
“You think I do?” Ethan’s eyes flash. “None of this has been done the way I wanted it to be done.” He stands up. “The difference is that I put on my big boy pants and decided what I wanted to do about the situation we’re already in. I’ve been patient. I’ve been supportive, but it’s time for you to decide what you want, Beth, and then tell me whether I’m part of it.” He turns, notices me, and startles, like he’d forgotten I was even here. After a moment’s pause, he strides out the door.
