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“Yes,” I say and purse my lips. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a little over the whole traditional way of doing things.” Mom opens her mouth, ready to cast her opinion on me, but I hold up a hand. “Devlyn and I have been through a lot. He has dealt with things you couldn’t fathom. I won’t make him or his father feel like outcasts because of some ridiculous, asinine tradition someone started long before I was born.” I take a deep breath and settle my rising blood pressure. “Baby showers should be about celebrating new life… by everyone in that life’s world. No matter what’s between their legs.”
“Shelly,” Mom admonishes me as if I am a child.
“No,” I say sternly. “No,” I repeat for emphasis. “I get it. You want me and Micah to fit some mold that society created centuries ago.” I shake my head. “But even when those ideals were created, people snuck around and did what felt natural and right for them.” I look Mom square in the eyes. “Love isn’t black and white, and neither is life. Both are full of color and wonder without borders. And I wish you’d see that.”
The baby sticks a limb in my ribs and I suck in a breath.
Mom scoots closer, concern etched in the lines of her face. “Oh my goodness, Shelly. Are you alright?”
I sit on the edge of the couch, raise my arms, and take in a lungful of air and nod. “Yep.” I lower a hand to rub my belly. “Just the baby giving a fist pump.”
That’s right. You tell grandma that Mommy is right.
With too much effort, I slowly rise from the couch. “I need to head home. Devlyn’s father is coming over for dinner and I need to help prep.”
Mom opens her mouth to say something, but snaps it shut.
It has been a monumental day. Nicole Reed speechless more than once is something worth noting. The shock on her face is priceless. If only Micah were here to see me standing tall. Well, as tall as a pregnant woman with a hot-air balloon belly can stand.
Mom walks me to the door and helps me with my shoes. I shoulder my purse and give her a hug.
“Love you, Mom. See you at the shower.”
She nods with red-rimmed eyes. “I love you, Shelly. Your father and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
I walk to the car with a slight waddle and slowly lower myself into the driver’s seat. Something else I will have to give up soon—driving. My belly is getting too big to reach the wheel and pedals comfortably. Plus, the stress of traffic is too much.
With one last look at my mother, I put the car in reverse, wave to her, and back out of the driveway feeling much lighter than when I arrived.
Today, I think it really hit her. Today, I think Mom finally realized that my life, and Micah’s life, will be what we make it, not what she wants to shape it as. I don’t doubt my brother still gets lectured on not having children. But maybe after today, maybe after the baby shower, Mom will learn to love how we liveourlives. Maybe she will learn to love that we are happy like this.
TWENTY-TWO
DEVLYN
Thankgod we don’t know the gender. I might have lost it if the house was a blue or pink vomitfest. Although Shelly has given me a new appreciation for pink, having it plastered in every nook and cranny would have been nauseating.
My eyes roam over the decorations strung up and laid out in every imaginable place. Banners and balloons. Confetti in the shape of bottles and pacifiers and diapers scattered on every available surface.At least it’s recycled paper and not plastic or glitter. Stacks of paper plates and cups and napkins. A box of biodegradable cutlery. Food, lots and lots of food. And a cupcake tower with enough for triple the number of people attending.
I haven’t seen the games yet, but I bet they are equally overwhelming.
Sitting on the couch, I watch as Cora, Autumn, and Elizabeth move around the house. They work in tandem as if able to read each others’ minds and know what else needs to be done. Shelly loiters in the kitchen, picking at the trays of food and making space for the last few dishes expected as others arrive.
When Cora and Autumn set out to organize the shower, they asked if there’d been anything Shelly wasn’t eating during pregnancy and what she’d been craving. The only enemy had been the cheese, but that phase passed. Now Shelly craves and loves her favorite foods more.
There is no shortage of variety on the shower menu. Had it been any other party, the crowd would question the assortment.
I wander into the kitchen, lean a hip on the counter next to Shelly and snag a chocolate-covered fruit skewer.
Excellent decision adding these to the menu.
“Nervous?” I ask before biting off a piece of pineapple.
She plucks a finger sandwich from the tray beside her—sliced banana, nut butter and chocolate peeking out from the slices. “Kind of.” She takes a bite as her eyes scan the room and beyond. “I’m excited to celebrate the baby and get the room put together.” She pops the last of the finger sandwich in her mouth and shifts her attention to me. “Don’t really want to be fawned over, though.”
My beautiful Shelly. The brightest star in the night sky, yet she doesn’t want all the attention. Doesn’t want all eyes on her. Soon, real soon, a lot of that attention will shift.
Shelly will always be my center, my point of gravity, the person who brings balance to my world. But it won’t be long before we both learn how to love each other and love someone new.
