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1
Ellen
I’m alone in my mom’s kitchen. The early morning dawn is brilliant, but the shafts of light don’t quite make it through the dusty windows and cheap, half-closed blinds of the small space. Not that it would be so great because in the dim kitchen, I can make out piles of dirty dishes in the sink and leftover food from at least a week’s worth of pathetically thrown-together meals.
This is not the home I grew up in. In fact, there never was such a thing called a ‘home,’ if I’m being honest. A more accurate description would be that there’s a long string of houses that I lived in with my mother and whatever boyfriend she had at the time. The list of addresses goes back as far as I can remember, and unfortunately, I can remember them all.
This latest house, which is a small, cheap plywood box on an otherwise nice enough street, hardly meets the mark either. My mom moved here when she got her job at the post office last year. It’s horrible inside, but at least Angela moved in alone without some stinking, drug-using man attached to the abode. At least, Ithinkthat’s a good thing because honestly, my mom is pretty unbalanced. Whenever she’s single, she gets depressed. Angela’s just one of those women who always needs to be in a relationship, even if said “boyfriend” is a convicted felon with a rap sheet a mile long. My mom can’t function otherwise, and she’s really paid a price for this handicap, in my opinion.
Sighing, I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. The action instantly hurts my sore breasts, and I wince, reminded of why I’m here. After all, it’s not by choice, not exactly. It’s just that I had no place else to go. My first year at college ended yesterday, and I took the bus here at first light. Even though it took me almost three hours, the ride went by in a flash because I kept replaying the conversation I’m about to have with Mom over and over in my mind, imagining every possible outcome.
I hope Angela lets me stay here for the summer. But you never know because once she finds out that I’m pregnant, maybe she’ll lose it. Maybe she’ll ask me to terminate the pregnancy, although I’d never consider that option. But then, where would I go? I literally have no one else in the world, and the only thing that springs to mind is a homeless shelter. Do they even have a homeless shelter nearby, or will I have to travel to a different city to find one?
I sigh again, wilting against the counter. The droning of the small fridge next to me creates a low hum, and there’s a weird scrabbling sound from the walls, which probably means we have mice. But still, I can’t focus on that right now because I have bigger problems. As my heart thumps with anticipation, I imagine the other heartbeat inside my belly at the moment. In my mind, it flutters like a butterfly’s wings, and just thinking about it sends a wave of happiness coursing through my body, making me smile as I place my hands on the softness of my stomach. I know I can’t keep putting off the inevitable because I’m going to be a mother, and I need to know whether or not I have a place to live while I prepare for my baby’s arrival.
I’m about to cross the small space and head down the hall to Mom’s bedroom to wake her when I hear a toilet flush. She’s up. I stop dead in my tracks, wondering whether I should have made a pot of coffee, or maybe toasted a bagel or two just to soften the mood a little.
But before I can act on this thought, the door to Mom’s bedroom opens and a bony figure stumbles into the dim light of the hallway while lighting a cigarette. Damn, it’s only 9 a.m. and my mom’s already lighting up? Well, Angela has her vices and I suppose nicotine is a difficult addiction to kick. Then, the figure stops when she sees me, pausing with the cigarette dangling from her lips. I can tell Angela’s trying to work out why I’m here because she’s clearly forgotten my visit.
“Hi Mom,” I try with a careful smile. “Good morning. I let myself in because the door was unlocked. I did knock, but no one answered, so I figured it was easier this way.”
Angela doesn’t reply. She exhales smoke, then seems to recover and continues to limp down the dark hallway towards me. As she enters the kitchen, she doesn’t meet my eyes and instead, makes a beeline for the coffee machine. I curse inwardly, wishing I’d had thought of making joe for her sooner. Clearly, my arrival isn’t exactly welcome, and maybe the coffee would have helped. My shoulders slump, but then I make myself perk up because it's do-or-die right now.
“How are you?” I try again with a determined smile. But I immediately regret the question because what will Angela say? Mom’s bony shoulders are the only thing I see as she fills the water container for the coffee machine at the sink. One of the straps of her cheap nightgown hangs down her arm and her graying hair is like a stiff mop on her shoulders. Shit. I can tell she’s been drinking.
Finally, however, Angela answers. Once the coffee machine’s started, she turns to look at me, bracing her hands on the counter in back of her.
“I’m tired,” she replies in a flat voice. “As usual.” She leans against the linoleum, smoking her cigarette again, as her eyes slide to my bags, still untouched, by the kitchen door. To be honest, Angela looks worse than tired. She looks tired oflife,period.How is it possible that she’s only thirty-seven because she looks at least ten years older given the deep brackets around her nose and mouth, not to mention the fine lines around her eyes.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I reply in a soft voice. “Um, so I know this isn’t a great time, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Angela nods and takes another long drag, her eyes calculating.
“About what?”
“Well, it’s about whether I can stay this summer,” I say in a hesitant tone. My mom takes another long drag of her ciggie before letting out the smoke in a thin stream.
“What about it?” she asks, the coffee dripping hotly behind her. “I told you that you could visit for a few months, didn’t I?” Oh good. My heart races as I nod because it means that she remembers our agreement. This gives me hope.
“Yes,” I nod, my heart quickening. “But that was before I found out about something.”
Mom shoots me a calculating look.
“About what?” she asks. “I swear, Ellen, out with it because I don’t have all day. What’s on your mind?”
I swallow hard because this is the moment of truth. I make to talk, but my throat closes up on its own and suddenly I can’t get out a word. My mom merely shrugs, turning back to the coffee pot again.
“If you can’t speak, then I’m going back to bed,” she says in a dismissive tone. “You can tell me later in the week.”
That galvanizes me to action.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. Immediately, Angela whirls around, her blue eyes like burning orbs of fire. The cigarette carries on smoldering between her fingers, small flecks of ash dropping to the floor. Meanwhile, the sound of the coffee machine is no longer a drip-drip, but rather a steady, steaming pour.
“I’m sorry?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
I take another deep breath.
“I’m pregnant,” I repeat. Angela nods, inhaling once more.
