“And that’s not because of anything you did,” I emphasize. “You handled everything with so much strength, and I know you had no other choice, and I never felt any less loved for only having one parent. You were more than enough for me, you always will be.”
The tears spilling over onto my cheeks match his own.
“But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know how hard it was on you. And I just…I didn’t want that. And I feel so guilty about that, because I don’t want you to think I wish things were different.”
“I do,” my dad says in a strained voice. “I do wish it were different. I wish you and your brother both had known the loveof a mother. I tried to be both but,” he pauses, swallowing hard. “But there’s something about a mom that’s irreplaceable.”
The sorrow in his eyes is suddenly replaced by something much more hopeful.
“And you, my darling Red, are going to make a great one. I hate that you’re doing this without Aaron, but I know that you’ll be ten times better at doing this alone than I was.”
“Oh, Daddy,” I say, crossing the room and climbing into his lap where he lounges in the recliner, feeling five years old again. “If I’m even half the parent you are, I’ll be happy.”
We fall into silence, my angel of a father stroking my hair until I feel strong enough to stand again.
After bracing myself, I went up the carpeted stairs to my brother’s room. He…well, there’s no other way to put it. He freaked the hell out.
“You have to give birth? Isn’t that going to hurt? How do you even take care of a baby?”
“Thank you, Nathan, that’s very helpful,” I said, unable to keep the irritation from my tone.
“Sorry,” he muttered in return. “A whole ass baby. That shit’s crazy.”
“A whole ass baby,” I say, nodding my head solemnly. “You’re going to be a whole ass uncle.”
The disgusted look that crosses his face is the last reaction I expected from him.
“What, you don’t want to be an uncle?”
“Are you kidding me?” he asks exasperatedly. “Of course I do. I just realized that to get pregnant, you had to have sex. I don’t want to think about that.”
“Nate, I’ve been married for five years. You can’t just now be realizing that.”
“I think my brain blocked it out,” he shudders. “Like how you suppress memories when something traumatic happens to you? The thought of my sister doing…that is beyond traumatizing.”
“Well I’m so sorry to burst your bubble, but married people do have sex.”
“Can we stop talking about this please? You’re freaking me out,” he groans, hiding his face in his pillow.
“You’re the one that brought it up, dweeb,” I point out. Nathan might be a full decade younger than me, but that didn’t stop us from bickering the way all siblings do. Dad always made sure that I never felt like I needed to be a surrogate mom, which gave me ample time to be an annoying older sister.
Once he got past the shock and the perks of being an uncle dawned on him, his tune changed drastically. By the time I left, he was already on the internet, searching for the best t-ball starter kit and ‘How To Be An Uncle For Dummies’.
And I was thanking my lucky stars that Little One will have two of the most wonderful men in the world in their corner.
***
My last stop was one I’d been putting off for as long as possible. I don’t know why it filled me with so much anxiety–Alan and Andrea have always been exceedingly kind to me, and never treated me like anything less than their own daughter. But with every step up the walkway to my in-laws’ house, my heart sank further and further.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I knocked on the door. Alan answered it, his face weary, shoulders curved inward under the weight of grief that we’d all become much too familiar with.
“My dear Abby,” he said with a sad smile, reaching up to stroke my cheek. “Come in. Andrea is in the sitting room.”
She was looking out of the window without really seeing, wrapped in a dark shawl with her graying hair pulled up into a bun. As we walked in, she turned to face us, and my heart nearly split in two at the dark shadows under her eyes. Those same shadows have stared back at me every time I looked in the mirror for nearly a month and a half. I’ve only really begun sleeping again because the first-trimester fatigue has been coming on strong. A blessing and a curse, really.
“Hi, Andrea,” I said quietly, sinking in next to her on the deep, padded couch. “I’m sorry I haven’t come over sooner.”
“It’s okay, dear,” she said, patting me on the hand. “We haven’t come over either. It’s funny, isn’t it? How it feels like an eternity has passed, and yet somehow also no time at all?”
