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“It’s not her fault.”
It’s cute the way Jake is trying to protect me from his mother. I need to start giving that boy more credit from time to time.
“Nobody said it was her fault.” Patricia is sitting at one of the dining room chairs, swollen bags under her eyes. Her skin is some shade between yellow and gray, and her hair hangs in ragged, sweaty clumps around her neck. “All I said was if she’d had the common courtesy to tell me she’d be gone for so long, I could have been out here to suction the baby myself.”
“I know how to take care of my own daughter.” Jake’s talking so fast my brain can’t keep up in time to form a response of my own.
“Nobody said anything about knowing how to do it.” She’s lecturing her son like he’s a six-year-old asking why Daddy has so many late evenings working with his pretty blond secretary. “I’m talking about experience. You haven’t had the chance to practice as much, so I was just ...”
“How am I supposed to get the practice if you’re always here doing it for me?” Jake demands. This is new, hearing him go at it with his mom. I wonder if he feels nervous. Scared.
Or maybe exhilarated.
I keep my mouth shut.
Patricia forces her lips to turn upward, but her eyes are as cool and calculating as ever. “You’re a good boy, Jake. I’m sorry life hasn’t given you the rewards you deserve.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the tremor racing up his arms from his clenched fists.
“It’s kind of you to care so much about your little girl.” Patricia’s voice drips with sweetness. Like poisoned honey. “I’m just sorry you don’t have the kind of help you need around here.”
She tosses her head in my direction so we all know who she’s talking about, but she doesn’t have the courage to meet my eyes.
The coward.
Jake’s jaw is clenched shut, and he’s not saying anything. Like an actor who’s forgotten his lines. I want to feed the script to him. Remind him that we’ve come to the part where he kicks Mommy out of the house.
Unfortunately, Patricia’s not nearly so tongue-tied. “You know, back when you and Abby were little, I had to learn how to do everything myself. Your father wasn’t around to help.”
“That’s because my father is an arrogant jerk who’d be better off ...”
“Easy, easy.” Patricia’s eyes are wide as if she’s surprised by Jake’s outburst. As if she didn’t know what kind of reaction to expect after mentioning his dad. “All I’m saying is if you want your home to run smoothly, you find a woman who knows how to take care of the children and who doesn’t run off whenever she gets it in her head.”
I’m not about to risk the chance that Jake will forget how to stand up for me. Now my hands are in fists, too. “I told Jake exactly where I was going,” I declare. Of course, what I told him was a lie, and I’m sure everyone here knows it by now, but how dare she accuse me like that to my face?
Patricia opens her mouth to respond, but I’m not about to give her the smallest inch of leeway.
“And you know what? While you were sleeping, Jake was out here watching Natalie, and he was doing a perfectly fine job.” He was probably glued to his smartphone, but I don’t care. Patricia’s got to learn her place, or so help me she won’t be alive to welcome in the New Year. “So he ran into a problem with the Yankauer. Know what? They warned us about that in the NICU. Said it happens to everybody no matter how careful they are. So I don’t see where you get off telling him the he doesn’t know how to take care of his own daughter, or that I’m some sort of irresponsible, flighty mother who ...”
“It’s all right, dear.” Patricia’s smile reminds me of the snake in that Disney cartoon who can hypnotize other animals on command. “Nobody’s mad at you. Nobody expects you to ...”
“To what? Take care of my own child? Let me tell you something. You’re absolutely right. You don’t expect me to do anything for her. Do you know why? Because you’re an old, lonely dog with two failed marriages and you think that taking care of a sick little girl is going to give you some sort of edge over the rest of us. Time for a wakeup call. We didn’t ask you here. We don’t want you here. And the sooner you get out of my house, the sooner I ...”
“Tiff,” Jake snaps, and I realize he’s been trying to get my attention for a while now. He grabs me by the elbow and pinches me. Hard. “What are you doing?” he hisses. His breath is hot on my ear.
Patricia gives her head a regal tilt. “No, you don’t have to say anything.” She’s addressing Jake still. I’m not even worth her energy. “You’ve made your choices, and I’ve done what I can to try to shelter you from the consequences, but it’s obviously time for me to move on.” She sniffs. Her speech might be more effective if she weren’t so congested. “Let me go get my bags. I’m sure I can find some sort of hotel to spend the night while I make arrangements to fly home.”
Jake’s on his feet, blocking her from her room. “Now wait a minute.”
I stare at my daughter. I’d almost forgotten I was still holding her.
“No,” Patricia insists. I know how this dance will go. Jake will beg her not to take off. She’ll argue. They’ll tango like this for five or six rounds until she lets out a melodramatic sigh and agrees to stay, but only because she’s worried about what will happen to Natalie if she leaves her alone with the likes of Jake and me.
It’s all so preordained I don’t pay much attention. My husband’s whines and his mother’s harsh counters become background noise as I study my daughter. I was so scared when I saw that ambulance in front of the house. I’ve got to talk to Jake tonight, let him know I canceled the DNR. But right now, my fingers soak in the softness of Natalie’s cheek. Does she feel warm? She’s awake but just barely. Just enough to let me study the color of her pupils. Chocolate skin and almond eyes.
So stinking gorgeous.
It’s a shame that Jake’s about to convince his mom to stay. I’m sure by tonight, I’ll be ready to let him know how I feel. But for now, I want to enjoy my daughter. I nestle my cheek against hers. She does feel a little hot. Jake probably turned the thermostat up while I was out. I swear that man has no concept of how much we spend on utilities. I don’t even want to see what the heating bill will rack up to this month.
“The only way I would even consider staying here is if that hussy apologizes to me.”
I smile, thankful Patricia’s back is to me. The woman is even more delusional than I first gave her credit for if she thinks she’ll get a sorry out of me.
“Don’t call her that,” Jake pleads. Like a stinking knight in shining armor, ready to defend his lady’s honor.
“I didn’t call her anything. I just said that I need an apology if she expects me to be her babysitter and her housemaid and her cook and her nursing staff ...”
They’re talking about me, but this isn’t my argument. They’ve forgotten that I’m Natalie’s mom. That I could take her and leave any time I choose.
“We appreciate everything you do for us.” It’s a good thing Jake doesn’t work a union job. He’d get eaten alive at the negotiation table. “We both appreciate you,” he lies. “You’ve been amazing. I get three home-cooked meals a day, my daughter’s getting the best of care ...”
I roll my eyes. I know Jake so well that this kissing-up act of his hardly bothers me at all. It’s like getting mad at a seven-week-old puppy who pees in the entryway and acts all proud because at least she missed the carpet.
I rub my nose softly against Natalie’s. One day, I think to myself. One day she might smile at me. One day I might hear her laugh. I’ll even be excited once she learns to cry. Will she ever know? Will her little heart ever find a way to understand how much I adore her?
“... if that’s what you really want.” I only catch the last half of what Patricia says, but I gather by her tone and by Jake’s relieved expression that she’s decided to stick around until after Christmas.
Whoopetty stinking do.
Then again, I already knew that’s what the outcome would be. I’ll have to suffer Patricia’s stony silence for another few days, and then we’ll slip back into our comfortably spiteful coexistence.
Merry Christmas and bah humbug.
I think that the bulk of the argument’s over, but apparently Her Royal Highness won’t accept Jake’s surrender without a little more show of force.
“I’m not asking for much. You of all people should know that. I’d just like to know that my efforts are appreciated.”
“We’re really thankful for everything you’ve done for us. Both of us are.” Jake throws me an imploring glance. It’s cute that he thinks highly enough of me to assume I’ll jump in. I keep my gaze turned toward our daughter and pretend not to hear.
“Oh, I know I’m appreciated by you.” Patricia draws out that last word, and I’m sure she’s turned around to glare at me, but I’m not about to join in and pay homage to the queen. Stinking dictator is more like it. This is between her and her son. He’s the one begging her to stay. If it were me, it would have been good riddance ten minutes ago.
Heck, if it had been me, she would have been out the door before her first weekend.
Fish and company ...
Natalie’s asleep again. So much for our little bonding moment. That’s ok, though. I need to remember what Grandma Lucy said. I need to remember that we have years and years ahead of us to snuggle and hug and kiss and love each other.
It will be years, right? Isn’t that what the old woman promised?
No more than ten feet away from me, Patricia’s reciting my faults one by one, and Jake’s standing there taking it all like the henpecked mama’s boy he is. I wonder if they have any idea how little respect I hold for either of them at this moment.
“If that’s what she thinks, then I’m better off going.”
Great. Now she’s threatening to leave again. I wish that woman would make up her stinking mind instead of wrangling her son through all these hoops. It’s psychological abuse, that’s what it is.
“I mean, if she thinks that I’ve got nothing better to do with my time than suction the snot out of a little retarded baby ...”
The hair on the back of my neck jumps straight up, but Jake reacts faster than I do.
“What did you call her?” I can feel the heat from his anger all the way over here.
Patricia shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “I only meant that ...” Her eyes dart around the room. She can’t even face her son.
“Don’t you ever use that word in my home. Don’t even think that word in my home.”
I’m glad Natalie’s asleep now. Glad she doesn’t hear the fury dripping from her daddy’s voice.
“It’s just an expression ...”
“It’s not just an anything.” Jake stares down at his mom who seems to have shrunk half a foot. His voice trembles when he talks, like it’s taking superhero strength to keep from vaporizing her with his wrath. “That little girl is my daughter. I thought you understood that. I thought that’s why you were here. I thought you loved her ...” He struggles to regain control of his voice. “I thought you cared about her as much as I do,” he adds a little more quietly.
“You know I care about her.” I’ve never heard Patricia use this tone of voice before. Like she’s actually scared. The reigning queen might not get her way after all. Is it a Christmas miracle in the making?
“We both know what a good girl she is,” she stammers. “I only said that because ...”
“Get out.” He’s speaking so low I can hardly hear him. The words escape like a hiss between his clenched teeth.
Patricia straightens her spine. “What did you just say to me?”
“Get out of my home.” He stomps ahead and throws the front door open.
“What about my things?” she asks. Her voice has a small crack in it, but I can’t tell if that’s from her cold or her emotions.
He pulls the keys out of his pocket. “Take the car to the hotel on Main Street. I think they have a shuttle to the airport. Leave the keys at the front desk. I’ll get it later.”
She puts her hand on the doorframe like she’s going to stop her son from slamming it on her face. “Let me get my bag and you can drive me there. We can talk about it while ...”
He points to the porch. “Go. Now. I’ll drop your stuff off later on.”
“But, son ...”
He shakes his head. “You have no idea what you just did, do you?”
“I was only trying ...”
He clears his throat. “Get out. And don’t expect to come back.”