Geri Krotow - What Family Means

“What?”

“You haven’t told Mom and Dad yet, have you?”

“No, I haven’t—but I will. I just haven’t had time alone with them.” She let the little white lie hang there. She hadn’t told Jesse yet, but that wasn’t any of her family’s business, was it?

“Wooo-wee. Mom’s going to go nuts! When she thought we were thinking about trying, she flipped—even asked if we had a nursery theme picked out.”

Angie laughed.

“Mom’s always in the thick of it with us, you have to admit.”

“I’m not used to this. My family isn’t as hands-on.” Stella sipped her coffee. “Hands-on” was a polite way of describing what they often saw as Debra’s overinvolvement with her kids’ lives. But they all knew the reasons for it, too.

“Your mom didn’t have the interracial thing to deal with.” Blair looked at Stella, her dark skin a testament to her African-American heritage.

“No, but she had plenty of her own worries.”

“Like you marrying me?” Blair smiled sardonically. Stella’s parents had been shocked to find out that his family was mixed—Blair and Brian both had dark skin like Stella. But they’d taken it in stride.

“Knock it off, tough guy.” Stella swatted Blair on the arm.

“Mom loves us, and she’d be hurt if she heard us talking like this.” Angie felt a need to defend her mother. “I’ll tell her to give us some space.”

“Yeah, tell her to focus on Brian.”

“She can’t, he’s in Colorado.”

“Yeah, but I’ve heard he’s dating the same gal from last summer.”

“The blonde?”

“Seems so.” Blair smiled and hugged Stella quickly. Angie observed their profiles, both slim and tall. They were very open to each other, their marriage the stuff of dreams.

“I gotta go, baby. Dad’s out of town and someone needs to keep the ship afloat.” Blair kissed Stella full on the lips.

“See you at dinner, as long as we don’t have too many walk-ins.” Stella kissed him back.

In Stella’s office, walk-in referred to anything from a split lip to lost teeth.

“Do you get a lot of walk-ins this time of year?” Angie asked.

“Hockey pucks.” Stella smiled and pointed at her front teeth.

Angie winced. “Ouch. I think I’ll stick to analyzing weather patterns.”

Stella laughed, then immediately grew solemn.

“Don’t worry, Angie. We’re all here for you.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go, too. Let’s try to get together soon, okay? And no more nonsense about who got pregnant first!”

Angie laughed. “Deal.”

Present Day

Buffalo, New York

ANGIE LOWERED the car window and let the crisp air wash over her face. For the first time since she’d returned home, she was grateful for the cold. It took her mind off her heaving stomach.

Off her life.

She turned into the parking lot of Koffee Klache. Mom said she’d come over right around two, after she’d checked in on Grandma Violet.

Angie looked at the car’s digital clock. One forty-five. She had fifteen minutes to pretend she wasn’t pregnant, that her life hadn’t taken such a major detour.

Her stomach felt otherwise. She shoved open the door and threw up on Koffee Klache’s slush-covered blacktop. When she was done, she leaned back in the seat and tried to will her nausea away. She wouldn’t be able to have a coffee, much as she might wish she could. But she didn’t want to meet Mom at home. This was more neutral territory.

After several minutes she hauled herself out of the car and into the coffee shop.

“Hi, Angie! The usual?” Molly the barista smiled her welcoming grin. Angie managed to smile back, despite the acrid taste still in her mouth.

“Hey, Molly. Uh, no, not the usual. I’ll have an iced ginger tea, please, with some honey.”

“You got it.” Molly didn’t question Angie’s choice of “iced,” even though it was freezing outside.

The tinkle of the bell above the entrance was followed by the scent of her mother’s perfume, which made Angie’s stomach roil yet again.

Maybe she should’ve waited until tonight to meet with her mom. Evenings seemed to be her best time as of late.

“Hi, honey!”

Angie turned around and practically fell into her mother’s warm hug. The fuzzy yarn of her mom’s scarf tickled Angie’s cheeks. She gave Debra a hug back and hoped to pull away as quickly as possible.

But the touch of her mother, the softness of the scarf, even the scent of Debra’s perfume, undermined Angie’s resolve. For an instant she clung to her mother as though she were six and had just found out she wasn’t invited to her friend’s birthday party.

“Ange?”

Debra hugged Angie tighter, then drew back and studied her daughter. Angie couldn’t believe her mother was nearing sixty. She looked as she’d always looked—better, in fact.

“What do you want to drink, Mom?”

Angie slipped out of her mother’s arms and grabbed her own drink from the counter. Debra took the hint and walked over to order.

Angie sat in their usual spot—the two easy chairs by the back window. Her mind echoed with the conversations she and her mother had shared in this space over the years. While Angie was still in high school, the breaks during college and her frequent trips back since settling in San Francisco with Jesse.

No guarantee that Jesse would agree with her decision to stay here, once he found out she was pregnant. When the Director of Operations job opened up at the NOAA facility in Western New York, he’d finally agreed to make a temporary move with her to Buffalo; with his credentials they were both confident that he’d find an equally good—temporary—career opportunity as a neurosurgeon. They’d put their condo up for rent just as Jesse was sent to Iraq.

Part of her felt childish for not telling Jesse the minute she knew she was pregnant. But she wasn’t a child anymore; she was a thirty-five-year-old woman about to have her own child.

Debra carried her usual green tea and a small plate of oatmeal raisin cookies to the table. How her mother stayed so slim was beyond Angie. Angie took after her father’s side—just one glance at a sweet put the pounds on.

“How’s Grandma Vi doing?”

“She’s fine.” Debra sighed. “I checked on her after knitting group and fixed her an omelet.” Angie knew that taking care of Grandma Vi was more complicated now. Something as simple as getting her to eat regularly made a huge difference, but the responsibility tended to take over her mother’s life.

Debra’s silence confirmed Angie’s thoughts.

“How was the group?”

“Fine, fine.” Debra busied her hands with settling her coat and her purse; she rested her knitting on her lap. Knitting or anything fiber-related could always lift her mother’s spirits.

“What are you making now?” Angie stared at the ball of pink fuzz in Debra’s lap. She hoped it wasn’t something for her.

Debra laughed. “It looks alive, doesn’t it? It’s a new yarn. I thought it’d be perfect for your future niece or nephew.”

Of course. It was for Blair and Stella’s baby.

Angie tried to focus on how great Blair and Stella had been this morning. They weren’t pregnant yet, but Angie had no doubt they would be soon. In the most perfect manner, and everyone would know about it.

Blair’s twin, Brian, wasn’t married yet. But his growing relationship with “the blonde” Blair had mentioned was promising.

And then there was Angie.

Angie glanced up from the yarn into her mother’s green eyes. Mom’s red hair still corkscrewed around her face, the longer locks a halo about her head. Debra wore an expression reserved for her tough-love moments.