“Thank God you never had kids with that asshole.”
“Thanks,Tante.” I know she means well, but it hurts all the same. And since she’s one of my favorites, mostly because we both lack a filter, I try to take her consolation as the show of love and support she intended.
“What are you going to do now that you’re single and on the prowl, my Claire Bear?” she asks as she takes a sip of the Bloody Mary a waiter has just placed down in front of her. “Mm, thank ya,bébé,” she drawls and winks at him. Despite being born and raised here in the Acadiana area, she’s developed one of those “Nawlins Dahlin’ ” accents after living in the Crescent City for decades. It’s another reason she sticks out like a sore thumb now that she’s returned to be closer to the rest of our family.
I shrug and take a sip of my own drink, a salty margarita, but it doesn’t go down all that well. I’ve never been a huge fan of alcohol, anyway.
“I don’t know. You lookin’ for a roommate?” I bump her shoulder playfully and smile again so she knows I’m joking.
“Oh, hush, child. Although your mama and I would both love to have you close by, we both know you’re meant for country living. You’re too much for these city boys to handle.”
“Are you referring to the boys I’d be teaching or the ones I’d be dating?” I pose, cocking an eyebrow.
“Both,” she clarifies with a tilt of her chin. “They wouldn’t be able to keep up with you in the classroom or the?—”
“I’m only worried about the classroom for now.”
“What you need is to get back on that horse.” She wags her finger at me, making her bracelets clink together.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not meant for married life … or kids.”
Verna reaches over to smack the side of my thigh, and I wince. “No ma’am, none of that pouting. We don’t sit around andbouder, hmm?”
She tips her head to look me in the eyes, wordlessly conveying her empathy. Her partner of over four decades, Reggie, passed away about five years ago. She’d followed him to New Orleans after they met in college, and they’d always seemed so happy together, even though they’d never actually gotten married or had children.
It took me years to understand why she moved away, especially when everyone loved Reggie so much. But I figure they simply wanted to evade the endless commentary on their decision to “shack up” and the constant questions about having babies.
“No, we don’t,” I say, offering her another sad smile.
“Your Reg is out there, somewhere, waiting for you. Don’t stop looking until you find his handsome ass.” My smile widens, and she sniffs and pulls me in to kiss my cheek, leaving me with an imprint of her bright red lipstick and floral perfume.
I always thought I took after Verna, and I’d basically followed in her footsteps when I’d chased my ex-husband to the small town of Camellia. But maybe my great-aunt had also felt like an outsider in her own family, despite their love and tolerance. Maybe it was thesame for her as it is for me—too difficult to face her parents when she’d already second-guessed most of her decisions.
Unlike me, however, myTanteVerna is the type of woman that won’t stay down, even with a gaping hole in her heart. I wish I were strong enough to crawl back to my family with my tail between my legs. But I’m not sure I can withstand my parents’ disapproval of my life choices or that look on my mom’s face when I inevitably say the wrong thing or laugh too loud in front of company. Better to stay where I am and take it in small doses.
“Can I ask you something?” I venture.
She waves off my trepidation. “Anything, my girl.”
“Why didn’t you andN’oncleReg have any kids?”
I barely catch the flicker of pain in her eyes. “We only meant to put it off for a while,” she begins, her voice laced with regret. “But by the time we’d done enough traveling and working and everything else you think is more important when you’re young, I couldn’t get pregnant. We talked about adopting, but they only wanted to give kids to married couples back then.”
“And you didn’t want to get married.”
“I didn’t. He did,” she admits. “Can’t even remember why I wouldn’t do it anymore, though.”
“Well, I’m sorry. You would have made the best parents,” I offer, and I mean it.
She pats my thigh again. “Reg would have been a great daddy. But it wasn’t in the cards for us, I guess. Or maybe we were too stubborn to recognize the opportunity before it passed.”
I bite my lip and look away, my eyes stinging. “Yeah. Um, I think I’ve gotta visit the little girls’ room. Be back in a minute.”
She nods knowingly and lets me go. I keep my head down as I pass the rest of my extended family on my way out of the small yet lavish hotel ballroom hosting my great-grandparents’ sixtieth anniversary party, no doubt chosen by my mother, then I dart into the lobby restroom to dry my tears.
I take a second to scrutinize my reflection in the brightly lit mirror. My fitted cocktail dress, blown-out hair, and full faceof makeup were enough to shock my family tonight, as if they forgot it was even possible for me to wear anything else besides the button-down work shirts, steel-toed boots, and canvas carpenter pants I’m relegated to for my work as an agricultural sciences teacher—another one of my choices they never quite understood. My mother was at least hoping I’d have worn something modest enough to cover my tattoo sleeve, if the frown she failed to disguise upon my arrival was any indication. But I think I clean up nice, when I make the effort. And this party was worth the effort, especially since I knew I’d be fielding questions and mock concern after finally owning up to my change in marital status. I sure as shit wasn’t going to show up aloneandfrumpy.
After one more dab at the lipstick stain on my cheek, I venture out and zero in on the hotel bar in the corner of the lobby. I’m not ready to face my family again. And I’m tired of talking about my failed marriage. But as soon as I take the first step toward the bar, a solid shoulder bumps mine, causing me to stumble backward.
