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“Samantha?”
“Mmm?”
“I feel so …”
“I know …”
“To be …”
“Yeah, doesn’t it, baby?”
Knowing we were on the same page was so reassuring! I took her face in my hands, “I love being called Baby. Love it. Love it. Love it!”
She giggled, then laughed out loud. When she did, I heard wind chimes sing.
She wasn’t about to let me off the hook about the social services thing. I’d wheedled lots of childhood memories out of her. Only fair that it was my turn.
Curled up on the sofa after dinner, Samantha just looked at me, scooted in to wrap herself around me, and said, “So. Social services?”
I started out, “I'll tell you the short version first. Then you can ask me anything you want. No secrets between us, my darling. My parents were sweethearts from the age of ten. They were inseparable from that age. Mom got pregnant in the first weeks of their sophomore year in high school. They stayed together.”
Samantha gasped, whispering, “Like Davie and Jerry! Well, notpregnant, of course, but a very, very young couple.”
I nodded, “Apparently, their parents were totally confused. Not that she got pregnant. Everyone knew how that happened. But that they stayed together and were happy—ecstatic, even—about the pregnancy just baffled their parents! Genevieve came along that spring. But, not only did my parents stay together, they kept Genevieve with them. They plotted and planned. They grew together. Mom was pregnant again by the time their junior year in high school started. They were still together. Living together at his house, in his parents’ basement, because by that time Mom's parents had thrown her out. They just threw her out.”
Samantha got choked up, shaking her head. I hugged her.
“My parents never missed a day of school, except when Mom was in the hospital giving birth. That was their number one rule for each other. Education. It was their big deal. I came along next. I only ever lived with Genevieve and my two parents. But now that you mention social services, I had a later conversation when I was in college with my dad about it. Mom’s parents kept threatening to set the social services department on them. How could two teenage kids—underage kids, minor children—possibly raise babies? It boggled their minds. The only other day of school that both of my parents missed was their high school graduation ceremony day. Roberta was born that day.”
Samantha was open-mouthed, “Three kids in three years … during high school? Wow. I mean, I knew girls in high school who got pregnant. But there were no love stories like this. A couple of the girls dropped out. Just ... wow. How did they manage? Leighton, baby? Tell me about your childhood with them. I don’t even know what to ask.”
“As soon as they were old enough to work, they did. Dad's parents—and by the way, my sisters and I never met thembecause my parents were long gone from their basement before we were old enough to form memories about them—were hands-off about helping my parents. They did let them live in the basement for free. And that was huge when you consider it. But that's really all they did. They never paid attention to us, for sure. Genevieve doesn't ever remember Dad's parents playing with us or even babysitting us once. We never, ever met Mom’s family.”
“Well, Davie and I know something aboutthat!”
I could see that my darling had a lump in her throat. I pulled her into me, “I got you, darlin’. Got you.”
She sniffed, “Oh, I know. I have taken care of myself—well, Davie and Jerry took care of me—for so long. Thinking about the deadbeat moms and dads of the world shouldnotbother me anymore!”
I held on till she got quiet again. She whispered, “I know how hard it was to make ends meet when Mom was around but for Davie, too. What did your parentsdo?”
“Mom’s jobs were always close to minimum wages while we were little, but Dad’s goal was to be a union man with a trade. He managed to get a year of trade school and is a well-paid union man now. I'm thinking that Roberta was probably three or four years old when he became a full-fledged union man with health insurance. Paying into his pension. He was definitely doing that by the time we were all in school.”
“Dad was the one who discovered my talent for inventing things. He was into machines, and one afternoon he came out to the car to make a run to the grocery store or somewhere, and I had taken half of his motor apart.”
Samantha gasped and shut her eyes tight, “Oh, no. Don’t tell me. I hate to ask …” Then she opened one eye at me and peered up at me, “But I’m asking anyway. What’d he do?”
I laughed at her reaction, “He’ll insist I was just eight years old. I don’t remember! What I do remember is that instead of giving me a wallop on the backside and sending me to my room, he got a big grin on his face and we talked through all the parts and pieces and put the car back together better than it was before.”
That made my beautiful darling laugh and laugh.
“From there, I just invented stuff that caught my attention. Interestingly, it was Genevieve who figured out that a few things I invented could probably be sold and make us some income. Dunno if you’re aware, but she’s an attorney now. Anyway, when I was in high school, she figured it all out for us, and that led Dad to consult an attorney at his work. Long story short, several of my teenage inventions got patented and sold under license, and since I was a minor, our parents were the stewards of my first royalties. Pretty small amounts of money compared to what my inventions are earning now, but still and all … back then it was significant. The whole family sort of got involved. Two of my inventions from high school are still making royalties.”
We snuggled.
“So,” I concluded, “For a while there, Mom and Dad probably had to keep those nosy, but well-intentioned adults out of our family affairs. I should ask them, but I’m pretty sure the social services snoops never came around. And like Davie and Jerry, we made a real family. We’re all close.”
More cuddles, and snuggles, and she kissed me till I floated to the ceiling.
