36
Hazel
“Monkey bread? I can’t believe you made me garlic monkey bread, Mom.” I stand up to grab the basket of warm bread before Aunt Beth gets it. I’m on my third piece. I’m cutting myself off after this. I’m almost back to the weight I was BC. Before Charlie. BTTN. Before the Tyler Nightmare. That’s what Katy and I call last year. She says I should just pretend Tyler was a bad dream.
We’re all sitting around the kitchen table at the cottage. The Cosset girls, Gran calls us: Gran, Mom, Aunt Beth, me, and Charlie. Charlie is sitting in her bouncy seat on the floor near Mom so Mom can see her. Mom says she’s grown a bunch in the last week and a half. That’s how long Mom’s been gone. It seems like it’s been longer. The house is weird without her. And I think Charlie misses her, if that’s possible. I don’t know how much babies this young know about what’s going on, but she looks at me sometimes and I think she wants to know where her Gigi is.
I know Mom leaving is my fault, even though neither Mom nor Dad will come out and say so. It’s about Dad helping me too much. Mom not helping enough. It’s about me keeping Charlie. Mom saying I wouldn’t be able to handle taking care of a baby and her being pretty close to being right. I’m not going to admit that to anyone, of course. I can barely admit it to myself. I keep thinking if I try harder, I’ll get better at this mom thing. I just have to try harder.
I feel bad. I feel bad because I caused the fight between Mom and Dad. I feel bad because now she’s moved out and Charlie misses her. I also feel bad because Gran misses her.
“There’s still sauce on the back of the stove if anyone wants more,” Mom says, leaning down to put Charlie’s pacifier in her mouth.
Charlie smiles at Mom and I’m so proud because she’s so smart. I use my phone to take a pic of her. I try to take at least one picture of her every day because she’s so beautiful and so perfect and I don’t ever want to forget what she looked like yesterday. Today.
Secretly I’m glad Charlie’s on the other end of the table with Mom. The kid stresses me out. I’ve been trying hard to spend more time with her, to be home more with her, but it’s hard. It’s so much work to take care of her. So much to do and I never know what she wants and I feel like a loser every time she cries. Also, I’m busy. I’m finishing up my schoolwork for the year. And there’s a lot going on at school that I’m allowed to participate in, even if I’m not officially attending. I haven’t said anything to Mom or Dad or Gran yet, but I’ve been talking to my guidance counselor about going back to school next year for my senior year. I really miss school and I think, academically, I’m better off going there than being homeschooled. I figure I can find a babysitter to watch Charlie.
Dad’s started saying I need to stay home more, which is getting on my nerves. Jack is getting ready to graduate so there are lots of parties. And we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend, which I can’t believe because I never thought a guy would like me again. And Charlie is fine. Anyone who looks at her can tell she’s fine. She likes hanging out with Dad and Gran. And she and I always sleep together every night. Except for a couple of nights ago when Jack came over to visit, and we fell asleep on the couch in the family room watching TV. Dad had already taken Charlie upstairs and put her to bed in her crib. After Jack left, I was going to go upstairs, but the next thing I knew it was morning and Dad was waking me up. He was kind of cranky because it was only five.
“Feed her,” he grumbled, handing a squawking Charlie over to me, and then he went back upstairs to bed.
I take a bite of Mom’s spaghetti with spicy marinara sauce. Aunt Beth is telling us all about Paris. I don’t know what this guy she’s dating does for a living, but he seems to have the bucks. He took her to Mexico when they first started dating. Then to Paris last weekend and they’re making plans for some kind of river cruise in Europe. I wonder if he is in the Mafia or something because he apparently doesn’t have a nine-to-five job. So either he’s in the Mafia or he’s like Aunt Beth and calls out sick a lot. Of course, how could he afford the trips if he doesn’t work? And I don’t know if there’s such a thing as the Mafia in Maine.
“The Louvre was better than you see on TV,” Aunt Beth is telling Gran. “And you can get right up to the paintings. And the restaurant we went to”—she puts a big forkful of salad into her mouth—“was a five-star restaurant, even though they called it a café.” She shrugs. “Or would be one here.”
As Aunt Beth is talking, I keep glancing at Mom. She looks good. She’s gotten a little bit of sun on her face. I guess from working outside and because spring has finally, finally come to Maine. I also think she looks skinnier.
Dad, on the other hand, looks terrible. We’ve been eating mostly takeout. He’d been losing weight, but I think he’s gaining again. Last weekend he just lay around all weekend and watched TV. We never did watch that documentary series about Vietnam together. The one we’d planned to watch after Charlie was born. I offered to stay home from bowling and watch an episode or two with him. But he didn’t want to. He just wanted to eat Doritos and change channels. I ended up taking Charlie to Katy’s. Then Jack invited us all for pizza and I ran Charlie home and Gran put her to bed. Gran can’t climb the stairs well, but I got a Pack ‘n Play and Charlie sleeps in that in the family room sometimes, now. Not just for naps, but at night, if I come home late. I always hear her when she wakes up. Or Gran just yells up the stairs to me.
Charlie starts fussing. I ignore her. Aunt Beth is still going on. Now she’s telling us about Nutella crepes she had from a street vendor, which makes me sad because I remember the morning Granddad wanted me to make him crepes. Now I kind of wish I had Googled a recipe and tried it. It wasn’t like he asked me to do a lot of things for him.
Charlie is still squawking and Mom tries to put her pacifier in her mouth again. “She hungry?” Mom asks me.
I keep eating. “She can’t be. She ate when we got here.”
“Maybe she’s wet.” Mom takes a sip of wine. “You want to change her?”
“Not while I’m eating.” I reach for another piece of bread. They’re small but this is definitely my last piece. “Where’s this river cruise?”
“The Rhine,” Aunt Beth tells me.
She only had salad and bread for dinner. No pasta. She’s trying to lose weight. When she told us that was why she wasn’t eating the spaghetti, Mom suggested she cut back on her alcohol consumption. She stuck her tongue out at her.
“What countries?” I ask Aunt Beth.
“Germany, Austria, and France. The boat stops in lots of towns and cities, and you can get off and just walk around, eat, go shopping.”
“Hazel, I think she’s poopy.” Mom talks over Aunt Beth.
Aunt Beth turns to me, going on with her story about all of the excursions available on the river cruise.
“Have you talked to him?” I hear Gran say to Mom.
“Just about logistics. There’s a leak in the roof here.” Mom is still trying to get Charlie to take her Binky. “About Sean’s plans right after school gets out. He’s going to California to meet Kyo’s parents and her little brother.”
“I mean talk to him.” Gran touches Mom’s hand, something I don’t see her do often. She’s not a physical person, not like Granddad was. Before he got dementia. Before he had a stroke and died. I still can’t believe he’s dead. I loved him so much. And I liked him, too. Even when he got crazy.
Aunt Beth is still going on about the trip her boyfriend is going to take her on. I want to ask her how she can afford to take off so much time from her job, but I’m also trying to listen in on Mom and Gran’s conversation, so I just let Aunt Beth go on.
“He really misses you, Liv,” Gran says. “He wishes he could take back what he said to you.”
I have to read Gran’s lips to get this part.
“How do you know what he said to me?” Mom says kind of loud.
Charlie is really starting to fuss now so I don’t hear Gran’s response.
“If he’s sorry, I think he’d have said so, Mother.” My mom’s voice sounds weird. Higher pitched than normal. Like she’s trying not to cry. I don’t want her to cry. I don’t want her to divorce Dad because he said something dumb. I wonder what he said. I doubt Gran will tell me. I know Mom and Dad won’t. They’ve never done that, even when they were really mad at each other—get Sean or me involved.
“You know how men are,” Gran goes on. “You need to be the one to offer the olive branch.”
Mom is bouncing Charlie’s seat with her foot and making soothing sounds. Charlie isn’t having it and now she’s squirming and fussing louder. She’s about to go ballistic. I can see it in her little squinched-up face.
“Maybe I don’t want to offer an olive branch.”
“Oh, baloney,” Gran says, sounding a lot like Granddad.
“. . . Thinking about the Greek islands,” Aunt Beth is going on. “But Jason’s always wanted to try a Viking river cruise. He says . . .”
Charlie’s fussing that has now escalated to crying is drowning out Aunt Beth. Which is kind of a good thing because I don’t care that much about her rich boyfriend or her river cruise. It’s not that I’m not happy for her, but she always gets like this with a new guy. And then he always turns out to be a dickwad and she ends up back in her bathrobe, drinking wine out of a box and watching Little Women: Atlanta, or Real Housewives of somewhere. She has terrible taste in men. We all think so.
“Mother,” my mom says loudly. “I’m not discussing my marriage difficulties with you. It’s not your business.”
“It’s my business if I’m living in your house, listening to him every day,” Gran says, her voice louder than Mom’s.
Aunt Beth stops talking mid-sentence to look at Mom and Gran. Charlie never takes a breath.
“Hazel?” Mom speaks sharply, turning to me. “Are you going to—” She stops and starts again, getting out of her chair. “Never mind,” she says, unbuckling Charlie and taking her out of the seat. “I’ll do it. You finish your dinner.”
All three of us watch Mom walk out of the kitchen, holding Charlie, who is still giving it her best. She cries so loud sometimes that, at home, I put Dad’s noise-canceling headphones on.
Mom disappears down the hall and I turn back to look at Aunt Beth and Gran. Aunt Beth is eating the little pieces of bread that have fallen out of the basket onto the tablecloth. According to her, things like that don’t count calorie-wise. Also whatever she eats off other people’s plates.
“I’m sorry,” I say to the table. I don’t even know why I say it.
Gran looks at me. “It’s not your fault.”
Aunt Beth picks up a glass of wine. “I beg to differ.” She turns to me. “You know why she left, right?”
I can faintly hear Charlie crying. Mom has taken her upstairs.
“Because of me,” I mumble, looking down at my plate. I haven’t finished eating my spaghetti, but all of a sudden I’m not hungry anymore.
“Because of that.” She points in the direction my mom has just taken my screaming daughter. “You’re not taking care of her properly.”
“Beth,” Gran says sharply.
“What?” She looks at her mother and then at me again.
“I am taking care of her,” I say. “I’m doing my best.” My voice quivers.
“Well, your best isn’t good enough. And where’s Baby Daddy in all of this?” my aunt asks, opening her arms and looking around. “Huh? Why isn’t he walking her? Buying her diapers and shit?”
Gran gets up and takes her dirty plate with her.
Aunt Beth has another drink of wine. “Honey, I’m not trying to pick on you. You know I love you, but you’ve got to step up. Because leaving your baby with your grandmother all the time?” She waggles her finger at me. “Not cool.”
I stare at my plate, not sure what to say. Mostly because I know she’s right.
“It’s time you take on your own responsibilities, Hazel.” She gets out of her chair. “You wanted to be an adult and have sex with your boyfriend? Too dumb to use a condom? Well, it’s time to put your big girl panties on and be a mother to the by-product of that stupidity.”
I hear Aunt Beth walk out of the room. Go up the stairs. Charlie isn’t crying anymore.
But I am.
Gran walks over and stands beside my chair. We’re both quiet for what seems like a long time. I can hear Aunt Beth talking to Mom upstairs. She’s pretty loud.
“You can’t let what she says hurt your feelings,” Gran says gently. “She’s had too much to drink.”
I sigh and pick up my fork, pushing some noodles around my plate. “But what if Mom and Dad get a divorce because of me?” I’m trying not to cry. I feel like this all the time now. Except when I’m with Jack. He’s the only one who makes me feel better about myself. Makes me feel like I’m not such a loser. Such a crappy mom.
Gran pulls out Aunt Beth’s chair and takes her time sitting down. I think she’s in pain today. She seems to be moving slowly. “Couples who have been together as long as your mom and dad have issues to work through sometimes. I can’t tell you how many times I threatened to divorce your grandfather.”
I stare at my plate. “But they’re fighting about me. About Charlie.”
“I think they’re disagreeing about you and Charlie. But this is not just about you, I can promise you that.”
I look up at her. “Then what’s it about? Why’s Mom living here and Dad’s in Judith?”
Gran sighs. “My daughter refuses to talk to me about it, but I think it’s just growing pains.”
“Growing pains?” I think for a minute. “Isn’t that’s something little kids have? When Sean’s legs used to hurt at night, Dad said they were growing pains.”
Gran runs her hand over the back of my head and down over my hair. Which worries me a little because first she touched Mom, now she’s touching me. I hope she doesn’t think she’s going to die or something.
“Your mother’s life has changed. Sean’s gone off to college. You’ve made her a grandmother. She has a job now.” She shrugs. “Different times in your life, you have to go through things. Not just when you’re seventeen.” She picks up Aunt Beth’s plate. “I don’t think you should worry. Your mom and dad love each other. They’ll work it out.” She sets the plate down again. “That said, I have to tell you, I think your mom’s right about you not being home enough with Charlie.”
I press my lips together, staring at my plate.
“I’m old, Hazel. I helped you out in the beginning because I knew how hard this was, but . . . you need to be home more. I’m not going to watch her as much as I have been watching her. One night a week. Maybe two, that’s all I’m going to give you. And no more going back to sleep in the morning after your dad goes to work.” She pauses and goes on. “My friend Anne called me this week and asked me to come back to mah-jongg. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. They’ve got an open seat at the table. I had to stop playing when your grandfather couldn’t be left alone anymore. I want to play again.” She picks up the plate and this time gets up, taking it with her to the sink.
I sit there staring at my stupid plate, trying not to cry anymore. She’s right. I know she’s right. I know they’re all right. I just . . . don’t know if I can do it anymore. And what’s the alternative? Charlie’s almost three months old.
Tears drip onto my spaghetti plate.
When I first found out I was pregnant, I overheard a conversation with Mom and Dad. Dad was talking. About him and Mom adopting my baby. At the time, it sounded so crazy. It still does. But not as crazy now as it did then.