Everyone looks to Carly, who’s been silently hanging back since our emotional eruption. Finally, she slides up next to me on the opposite side of Vivian and rests her hands on the pile. “Jen, you are the most loyal, loving person I know. You are stronger than anyone I know. If there was anyone who could handle all of this, it would be you. But don’t ever think you would do this alone, we will always be there for you. You need to know, hun, I believe in you…we believe in you.”
And just like that, my girls restored my faith in myself. I was going to be a mom, and for once I felt excited about hearing the word.
Jen
What a difference a picture can make. When I had the first sonogram of Abby done, I didn’t even look at it. I didn’t want to get attached to something I couldn’t have. Things are different now. Seeing this baby’s image on the screen and holding the image in my hand, all of the indecision I had a few weeks ago has evaporated. All doubts have transformed into butterflies, which are taking up residence in my stomach; I’m overcome with an excitement I’ve never experienced, and wouldn’t trade for anything.
The second I enter my quaint, little apartment, a place I’ll have to leave soon if I plan on having two children living with me, I enter the kitchen and stick the ultrasound picture on my refrigerator with my favorite X-rated magnet. My naked man-tini will be the first of many things in this apartment, which will need to go when I childproof my previous life from the space.
A faint knock at the front door draws my attention from the picture of my little jellybean. I still can’t believe I already have such an emotional attachment with something which really does look like a jellybean. I told Campbell I would text her after the appointment, but it doesn’t surprise me that one of the girls would show up here to hear all about it. There’s another knock as I walk across the living room to the door. Unlocking the deadbolt and swinging it open, I’m shocked at who is actually standing on the other side of the doorway.
“Hello, Mother.”
I try to examine her appearance as a clue as to what she’s doing here. I haven’t spoken to her in years, and there is no reason I can think of for her unannounced visit. I always knew she and my father kept an eye on things to make sure I didn’t publicly embarrass them, but nothing I’ve done recently should have made it back to them as of yet.
Her Chanel pantsuit is freshly pressed and there isn’t a hair out of place. Nothing about her appearance looks any different from the last time I saw her, except for one noticeable difference. Her iceberg of a wedding ring is missing. She used to flaunt it as a status symbol…this is who I’m married to and this is what he bought me. Her marriage is all she’s ever had. To see her without the ring is alarming.
“I’m sorry to show up like this, I don’t have your phone number. Can I come in?” She looks uneasy and nervous that I may close the door on her, and for a moment, I consider just that.
“Sure,” I quietly say, moving to the side to allow her entry.
She wanders into the living room, examining my pictures, running her hand along the sofa. Really, she’s silently scrutinizing my life, deciding whether she approves of my choices or not. “Your place looks lovely,” she finally announces, taking a seat on the chair.
“What are you doing here?” I question before she gets too comfortable.
“I left your father, and I wanted to let you know.” I sense her unease with not only saying the words, but embracing her new single life.
I sit down on the couch across the room from her, preparing for the massive explanation, which will be coming my way. My mother was happy to look the other way for many years; I can’t imagine what the final straw was which prompted her to leave a life she loved.
“Did something happen?”
“Oh, Jennifer. Too many things have happened. I was too content being oblivious to them. I looked into divorce many times, I just could never find a lawyer who was willing to go up against your father.”
“And that’s changed?” I ask, still not showing much compassion for the woman who also looked the other way when my father sent me away.
“After his latest extramarital indiscretion with his newest twenty-six year old secretary I searched a little harder and found someone to help me. Once I left, I immediately called your Aunt Maggie to find out about you.” Her voice cracks and she covers her mouth, looking away from me.
I grab a tissue from the end table next to me and offer it to her. She accepts and, always the socialite, she delicately dabs her eyes.
“Jennifer, honey, I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, that I didn’t stand up for you. I’m not expecting you to forgive me. I honestly don’t think I deserve your forgiveness, but I think it’s important you hear the words.”
“I don’t know what to say. It’s been a long time.”
“Too long. I wish I would have had the courage sooner. I want to be a part of your life, if you’ll let me.”
I stay silent, unsure how I feel about her presence in my life.
“I don’t need an answer right now; I just want to put it on the table. This time, on your terms.” She stands up and slides a piece of paper across the coffee table, her phone number written across the card. “When you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, please call,” she says and begins to walk toward the door.
I think of all the relationships that have been damaged, the ones that I’ve lost. If I have a chance to possibly mend one, I don’t want to be the reason it doesn’t happen.
“Mom,” I murmur, prompting her to stop. “Give me some time, but I’ll call.”
She turns and smiles at me before walking out the door.
Casen
Jen has avoided my calls for weeks. I’ve been busy negotiating contracts with the label, but every available moment I have, I try to get a hold of Jen. Any texts I send are responded to with simple sentences or a single word. I realize I overstepped some boundaries, but I refuse to let her shut me out forever. I figure if I show up at her apartment, she can’t avoid me anymore.
My nerves are kicked into overdrive as I climb the stairs to her apartment. I feel my heart beat with each step I take closer to the woman I love. When I finally reach her floor, I pass a well-dressed middle-aged woman in the hallway outside Jen’s apartment. Even though Jen’s building is a decent one, I can’t help but wonder if this lady feels as out of place as she looks. She notices my tattoos and I sense her passing judgment as to the type of guy I am. If I didn’t have manners or a pressing mission to attend to, I would do my best to play up the stereotype and make her feel uncomfortable. That’s what Jen would do. The woman provides a slight smile as we pass each other, and I smile back at the thought of what my sparkplug would say to this woman.
I finally make it to her door and knock, still unsure of what I’m going to say or how to approach her.
“Mom, I said I would call,” she says, opening the door extremely quickly and throwing me off guard. Well, that explains the wealthy woman I saw in the hallway.
“Nope, just me,” I tell her with a wave. “You won’t answer my calls, you left me no choice.”
She nods and moves aside for me to come in, thank God. She leads me to the kitchen and I pull out a barstool at the counter to prepare for the discussion of my life.
As soon as she enters the kitchen, I begin the begging. I need her to forgive the invasion of her privacy. I’m not a groveling man, but the bottom line is, I need this woman.
“I’m sorry for going behind your back, Jen, I didn’t want to hurt you. If anything, I wanted to fix something for you,” I explain.