“Well, y’all got the party started without me,” says my mother’s voice the moment the door swings open.
Hattie clears her throat. “Hey, Mama. We weren’t sure if you were coming.”
“Well, of course I’m here. Why wouldn’t I be at my only grandchild’s baby shower?” Her words are slurred and exaggerated. Our mother doesn’t necessarily have a drinking problem, but she’s never shied away from a bar. And right now, in the middle of the afternoon, she’s drunk. The woman is toasted.
I stand up and hand the notepad to Ruth. “Y’all keepdoing presents.” I turn to my mother and grab hold of her elbow. “Mama, let’s get you a plate of food.”
My mother trips beside me and past Freddie. I can hear Saul and Ruth go into distraction mode as I force my mom into a seat at the kitchen table.
“How’d you get here?” I ask, and hand her a plate of tiny sandwiches.
For the first time I take note of the denim miniskirt she’s wearing. Her legs are smeared with self-tanner, and the white fur trim on her camel-colored boots is dingy and discolored. Her hair is a little greasy, and I almost feel bad that she felt so left out of Hattie’s shower that the only way she knew how to show up was drunk.
But then I don’t care. I shut my feelings for her off like a faucet. My mother crosses her veiny legs and points at Freddie. “I see you stuck around.” She turns to me. “They never do, ya know.”
I shake my head. “You’re one to talk.” I don’t want her bringing him into this.
“Excuse me?”
I shove a glass of water into her hands. “How’d you get here?” I ask again.
She rolls her eyes. “I drove, of course.”
My mother is a grown woman who showed up drunk to her oldest daughter’s baby shower. I couldn’t feel guilty for not including her in this even if I tried. I reach into the pocket of my dress and start to call my dad, but then remember he’s at work. I need someone else to be the adult in this situation.
Freddie is smart to say nothing as my mom sloppily picks at the plate of finger foods.
“Okay,” I finally say. “Once everyone clears out, we need to get her home.”
“I can help,” offers Freddie.
I hate for him to have to deal with this, especially after this morning, but I think my options are limited. I glance to him and then to my mom’s car, which is parked half in the front yard and half on the street. She’s lucky she didn’t hit the mailbox, or even worse: a human being.
“If you can drive her home, we’ll take care of her car later.”
He nods hesitantly. I can tell the idea of being alone with my mom makes him nervous, and I can’t really blame him.
After presents, Agnes asks everyone to count their clothespins. Saul steps forward with pins clipped up and down the front of his shirt and crows, “Nineteen!”
A few older ladies sigh as Agnes hands him the candle and gas station gift card she’d bought as the prize.
“Awww,yeah!” says Saul. “I owned this shower.”
After a thank-you from Hattie to Agnes and me, everyone is pretty quick to leave. The tension brought on by my mother’s presence is palpable, and I can’t fault anyone for averting their eyes.
Once everyone’s gone, I give Agnes a quick hug, and she whispers, “Your mama’s not driving home, is she?”
I shake my head. “I think Freddie was going to help me get her home.”
She nods. “That’d be best. Y’all take the Cadillac and we’ll get her car sorted when Bart comes home.”
I reach for Agnes’s hands. I wish she were my family. I wish it so badly. I wonder if God runs some kind of lottery up in heaven and that’s how he decides who’s going where and with whom. I love Hattie and my dad. And shit, even my mom, too. But I can’t help but wonder how much of life is predestined simply by the house you were born into. “You made today perfect,” I tell her. “I’ll never forget it, and I know Hattie won’t either.”
She squeezes my hands tight. “Y’all girls deserve it.” She hesitates before letting go, and I wonder about all the unsaid things between us.
“Didn’t even give me the chance to host the damn thing,” my mom slurs from the kitchen.
Agnes looks to me. “You pay her no mind while she’s in this state.”
