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“What?” I sit forward. She spins back toward the window and then back to me, holding Ax tightly, but her face is pale. “Andie, what?” I start to stand, but she rushes my way.
“It’s my mother. And don’t even think about saying you’re leaving now. You owe me. Here.” She carefully lifts Ax away from her to hand him to me and commands her dog to stand down.
“Andie, no.” I try to resist, but before I can, the baby is sliding from her arms to mine, and I have no freaking clue what’s going on. I’ve only held one baby in my life, and that was months ago, for about two minutes. I have no idea what to do with this one.
“Just lay him on your chest and support him with your hands. Make him feel safe.” She stands, looking down at herself and then back at me. “If I had earplugs, I’d give them to you.” Her face falls, and she closes her eyes at the forceful knocks on the door. “Please try not to listen. This is going to be–”
Another round of quick knocks erupts as her dog growls, but she lets him. Andie walks to the door, slowly pulling it open. I’m not sure what this is about or what Andie is expecting, but I didn’t like the look on her face or how she slumped her way to the door like she’s readying herself for a beating.
I peek down at the warm, soft little body snuggled on my chest. His sleeping face is squished against me, and his long, dark eyelashes are pressed tightly together. If me holding him gives her comfort, I’ll do the best I can. The not-listening thing isn’t likely.
Just make him feel safe.I spread my hand over Ax’s back and hold him against me a little tighter, hoping he stays asleep.
“Hello, Mother,” Andie says, pulling the door open. Without being invited in, her mom steps into the house like she’s a general invading.
“Andrea, I have tried to call you, and I am fed up with you not returning my calls.” She stops when she sees me sitting on the couch. “What is this? What is he doing here? I thought you said this was all a misunderstanding.” Her mom’s eyes roam over me like I’m some kind of bacterial specimen.
Andie’s posture stiffens as her dog moves to sit at her feet between the two of them. I like this dog.
“Oh, you know, he just stopped by for a quickie before his next game.” I quietly clear my throat at her statement. Andie’s eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with fire.
“Andrea, is this amusing to you? Do you have any idea what people are saying? I have people calling and asking if this is true, that you and he…I’m spending my days trying to clear this up while you’re here doing…whatever this is. This is going to stop. Look at you. You’re a mess.”
Andie puts her hands on her hips. “Is that all?” She looks around. “This is my house, and if I want to look like this or walk around butt naked, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. And, Mother, I’ll do that in front of whoever I want.”
Her mom’s mouth falls open and then snaps shut. “Andrea, what is wrong with you? You’re a mother now, and this is how you’re behaving? You should be ashamed of yourself. This is not how you were raised.”
I sit completely still, not to disturb the baby, but my body tenses with fury at how her mom is talking to her. If it weren’t for Andie’s request to hold Ax, I’d be off this couch and hauling this woman to her car by the pearls around her neck.
Andie’s chest rises with a long inhale, and she releases it. “You’re right, Mother. This is not how I was raised, but this is my life, and I get to decide how to live it.”
Her mom scoffs. “Yes, well, I heard that when you ran off and married Josh. Look how that turned out for you. Here all alone, raising a baby. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
Andie looks in my direction for a long second, but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at her son, and I can’t stand the pain all over her face.
“You alright?” I whisper quietly. Her eyes rise to mine, locking there. She stares at me, bleeding wide open, but only for a second before she blinks it away. But I saw it. The grief is so raw and so evident I feel it wind its way through my chest. She nods, but it’s so subtle I barely see it.
Her mom looks at me with disgust, but Andie’s soft words pull her glaring eyes away.
“Don’t talk to me about how this is supposed to be.” Her voice is calm and quiet. Crushed. I see her swallow. “I am alone, which isn’t how this is supposed to be. Nor was finding out I was pregnant and never even getting to tell my husband. Or laying in bed at night and wondering how in the world I would do this on my own. Or how about, Mother, driving myself to the hospital when I went into labor or that my own parents have never even acknowledged my son.”
She takes a quick breath, her arms moving around herself and one hand curling over the center of her chest, where I feel it ache within my own. “None of this is the way it’ssupposedto be. So you may not like how I live or dress or who I spend time with, but you willnevertell me how it’s supposed to be when it comes to my son. Do you understand me?”
Her mom gathers her purse tighter, her eyes flicking to the baby in my arms and then back at Andie. “All this rebellion and lashing out, it’s all going to catch up with you, and when it does, I just hope you haven’t wasted all your opportunities to make some kind of life for yourself.”
She turns and walks to the door without another word. Andie stands frozen in place for a whole minute, and I can only watch her. I didn’t have parents or a family or anyone to call mine, and I always thought those who did were the luckiest people in the world. I thought they had no idea how good they had it. How blessed they were. I see now, very clearly, that some of those who had what I wished so deeply for were just as lonely as I was.
Andie eventually turns but doesn’t look at me, her lips pushing to the side. “So, how much of that did you hear?”
“Every single word.” There’s not a chance I’m going to pretend.
She rubs her forehead. “Think it’s possible you can forget all of it?”
“Nope. I couldn’t even if I wanted to, and I don’t.”
Her eyes snap to mine, and then she walks and flops down on the couch, pulling a blanket off the back and wrapping it around herself.
“Want to talk about it?” I know she’ll say no, but I want to offer.
