After she chews on part of her cookie, she finally speaks. “Dad said he can’t even look at me anymore.”
“Dramatic.” I wince. “At least we know where we get it from.”
She laughs, then sniffs, blinking back tears. “He said not to expect any help.”
Not a surprise. Our parents raised us a certain way and definitely have strong feelings when we don’t toe the line. Though Fran has always been the one happy to find the boundary, she’s never erased it from existence before. I guess Dad’s tolerance finally evaporated.
“Do you have a plan?” I ask hesitantly. I don’t want to set her back into tear mode, but I am interested to hear what she has to say.
She lets out a small moan. “I’m not sure if there’s a plan for this. I’ve stopped hanging out at the club, which means I have more funds. I’m putting that money into my savings before I start buying baby items.”
“Fran, you know I’ll throw you a baby shower.” Those parties have to be the biggest blessing from God. A bunch of friends and family ready to fill your nursery with everything you need to raise a little one and you don’t spend a dime?Favored!
Wait, a nursery. I blink. “Do we need to find a bigger place to live?” Our condo is a two-bedroom. Fran has the smaller room because she didn’t want the extra space. Since I like to insert a potted plant everywhere I can, it makes sense I’m in the primary. Even though my room has more square footage, a crib still won’t fit. So much for the idea of swapping spaces.
“I can’t ask that of you, Val.”
I roll my eyes. “If I’m not helping you, how are you going to raise a baby on your own? You’d have to move to the suburbs.” I shudder. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but seriously...” We’ve lived in DC all our lives. How would we adjust to living outside the city and in one of the smaller suburban areas? Would Fran want to live in southern Maryland or northern Virginia?
“Thanks, Val. I guess I need to figure out my finances.”
“Right. Once you have the baby, are you going to use daycare?” I doubt Dad will let her bring the baby to work. He’ll give her maternity leave because our HR has that in place already. But he certainly won’t give Fran any extra favors.
She drops her head into her open palms. “There’s too much to figure out.”
“Don’t stress. You have time.” If she’s eight weeks pregnant, that makes her delivery date sometime in October. I think.
“Do I? I’ve already gained four pounds because I have this insatiable hunger and no morning sickness. Any day now, my pants will refuse to close, which means I’ll have to buy maternity clothes. Then that means I’ll have to start answering questions at work, with people at church. I just...” Her breath shudders, then the waterworks start all over.
I reach out and take her hand. After a moment, she composes herself, gathers her tea, and offers a weak smile.
“I’m going to lay down.”
“Do you want some company?”
She shakes her head. “But thanks for trying to cheer me up.”
“That’s what sisters are for.”
“Maybe give Jabari a call. I’m sure he’s shocked by everything.” She winces as if remembering the dumpster fire that was lunch.
“We already talked.”
Her gaze narrows. “About what? There’s something in your tone.”
“Um, he might want more than I’m ready for.” I can hear the shock in my voice. As much time as I’ve spent trying to sort out our conversation, I simply can’t wrap my head around it. My brain has malfunctioned, and nothing makes sense.
“I knew it.” Fran grins. “Go for it.”
“But Jackie...”
Fran sucks in air through her teeth. “I’m so sick of bowing down to Queen Jackie.” She places a hand on her hip. “Why do we tiptoe around her feelings all the time? Why don’t we ever make her take accountability for the crap she does? I’m sick of Little Miss Gets Away With Everything.”
I blow out a breath. “She’s our sister.”
“Doesn’t give her a right to lay down a law she never follows.”
Silence fills the tense space between us.
