“I’m not a mother either, and I’m absolutely sure your mission is deserving of a book, Ang,” Aurora said.
“Thank you, Ror,” Angeni said. “But Sitka, I don’t want to ask you to support this project if it doesn’t align with who you are.”
Sitka shrugged. “I’m not sure I know who I am.”
Freya started pressing her tiny feet against the ground, as if trying to launch herself out of the bouncer and into the arms of the women who loved her. Angeni knelt down, lifted her out.
“You know, I haven’t asked you enough about you,” Angeni said to Sitka.
Maybe the disconnect Angeni sensed was easily correctable. Maybe they just needed more heart-to-hearts, more intentional connection.
Sitka was now leaning against the island. When she reached her arms over her head, her loose-fitting shirt rode up, and Angeni could see the taut midriff that taunted her every day.
“What do you want to know?” Sitka asked, lowering her arms.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Just outside Seattle.”
“Siblings?”
Sitka swallowed hard and said, “No.” Angeni tried to figure out the look that crossed her face. Was it sadness? Regret? Maybe she was estranged from her family.
“Are you close with your parents?” Angeni asked.
“It’s just my mom.”
Angeni saw the chance to identify some common ground: “It was just me and my mom too.”
Sitka seemed unfazed by this fact, so Angeni went on: “Are you two close, you and your mother?”
“I wouldn’t say we’re that close. We talk every couple of weeks or so,” she said.
“I’m guessing you kind of had to raise yourself,” Angeni said. Then, as a show of vulnerability, “Like me.”
Sitka exhaled like she was exhausted by this inquisition.
“My mom had to work. Some womenhaveto work to, like,survive.”
There was an edge to her tone. She was taking Angeni’s observations as criticism.
“Right. I know. I get it. My mom wasn’t around much either,” Angeni said. “I’m just saying I know it’s hard to grow up like that.”
Sitka stood up a bit taller, her shoulder blades pinching together.
“I think I turned out fine. I mean, my mother didn’t make me chicken-liver pâté, but she was a good mom.”
She said that—chicken-liver pâté—with a tinge of mocking.
“It’s really good, actually, the pâté,” Aurora said. “I was going to put some out with crackers for the adults before dinner later.”
Sitka looked amused by Aurora, but before she could respond, Erik, Matt, and Jer appeared at the side door. Aurora let out a sound like an excited squeal and went to them, taking a tall pink box from Jer’s arms. She opened the top of the box to reveal a round cake decorated with wildflowers.
“Oh my gosh, it came out so good,” Aurora said.
They broke into song:
“For she’s a jolly good mama, for she’s a jolly good mama, for she’s a jolly good mama, which nobody can deny,” they hollered.
