Stay Tuned

Chapter 27

Days later, the conversation with Mother still stung. I couldn’t let it go. She had rejected me. Her own daughter.
    
That Saturday, I confessed it all to Candace, the words tumbling out of my mouth as quickly as Jaden and Addie scampered off to the playground.

“That’s all she had to say? Rick Roberts is good-looking?” Candace asked, incredulous.
    
“Handsome,” I corrected, and slid onto the bench across from Candace.
 
“Whatever.” Candace stared at the sky and tossed her newly-highlighted hair over her shoulder. “I just can’t believe she’s so…distant.”

I shrugged. “It’s always been this way. Mother was forty when I was born. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to have a new baby getting in the way at her dinner parties.”
  
Candace shielded her eyes to look for the twins. “It’s hard for anyone, at any age, to have children.” Shouts and laughter from the playground echoed through the trees. “I get stressed and frustrated. It doesn’t mean I don’t love the girls.”

“But my mother didn’t want any children.” I swallowed and traced the edge of the picnic table with my finger. “Don’t you remember? When I decided to stay home with Kelly, she acted like I had committed some cardinal sin?”
    
“Mel, that was your decision. The right one. You wanted to be there for Kelly.”
    
My daughter’s sweet face flashed in front of me. “I know, but she still treated me like I was a failure,” I said. Thinking of it made everything seem raw and bitter:
 
The air, the grass, even the blue sky. “Never mind,” I added, more a reminder to myself than Candace. She was probably sick to death of hearing the same story over and over.
    
Candace tucked one knee up to her chest. “Dr. Phil says there is power in forgiveness. Meaning, the resentment toward your mother is making you cynical. It’s just building walls.” She leaned forward, hugging her leg. “Dr. Phil would say you’re in an emotional prison. If you let her lock you into the failure role, she wins. You spend the rest of your life trying to please her or getting her approval. The only way out is to forgive her.”
    
“Are you sure you’re not working for Dr. Phil on the side?” I winked at Candace.
    
She didn’t smile.
    
“Okay,” I said. “So I just have to forgive Mother for the way she’s treated me, and then everything will be fine?”
    
“Basically, yes.” Candace closed her eyes. “Melissa, she’s the only mother you’ve got. Accept it. She’s not going to change. You can.”
    
I hated to admit she had a point. Letting it go would be the best thing I could do. For me. For my marriage. “Okay Mrs. Dr. Phil, I’ll try.”
    
“Good! Now watch out,” Candace warned. “Here they come.”

Hair glinting in the sunshine, Jaden and Addie ran to the picnic bench where we were sitting and threw themselves around my neck. I inhaled the sweet smell of little girl lip-gloss and Johnson’s Baby Shampoo while I buried my face in Jaden’s ponytail and tousled Addie’s curls.
    
When I untangled both of them and held them out at arm’s length, they chattered louder than magpies. Identical except for a tiny beauty mark on Jaden’s cheek, Candace had them dressed in matching pink-smocked blouses and Capri pants.

“Aunt Melissa, we’ve missed you. Where have you been?” Addie, the older of the two, had her hands on her hips.

“You ran off before I could talk to you.” I smiled down at her. “I’ve been busy at work. Not much time for playing.”

“Did Mama do your hair?” Jaden asked. She was five going on twenty-three, fashion aficionado, and clothes horse already. Candace had taught her well.

“Yes, sweetie,” I replied. “Your mom fixed my hair all up.”

Addie stared me up and down. “You look skinny,” she said in a stern voice. “Are you drinking your milk?” She shot Candace a concerned look. “Mama, tell her to drink her milk.”
Jaden ran a finger along the edge of my Seven jeans. “I like these. Mama, can I have a pair?” Her eyes were wide and shining with appreciation.

Candace reached out and hugged Jaden to her chest. “My little diva. I’m not so sure they make them in your size, darling. We’ll see.”

Satisfied, Jaden pulled at Addie’s sleeve. A few other girls their age had floated into the park. “Let’s go.” she pleaded, “There’s Madison and Skylar.”

Addie gave me a final stern look before turning around to join her sister. “Aunt Melissa, please drink your milk.”

“Yes, baby, I will,” I threw up my arms in mock disbelief and then covered my mouth with both hands.

“How does she know?” I whispered as we watched them run to the playground.

“She just knows.” Candace chuckled, leaned back against the bench, and rolled her eyes to the sky.

“That child doesn’t miss anything. She reminds me to make the beds, take out the trash, and clean the bathrooms. If I gave her a laptop and a Blackberry, things would be scary. Her teacher says she has to interrupt to get a word in edgewise.

I lightly jabbed an elbow at Candace’s ribs. “Jaden, on the other hand, is going to leave you broke.”
    
“Don’t I know it,” she exhaled. “Forget Limited Too and Gap Kids, she’s dragging me around to see stuff in Anthropologie and BCBG.”

We basked in the sunlight as it filtered through the tree branches. It was a perfect day, not too cool, a lush green carpet of grass beneath our feet. Big, puffy clouds dotted the sky like whipped cream.

“I could get used to this,” I murmured, “Be with the girls. Play all day, sleep all night.”

Candace snorted. “That’s because they’re behaving. Before school this morning, neither one listened to a word I said. I threatened them within an inch of their lives and all of their Barbie dolls if they didn’t stop.”
 
“But they’re so cute now. And I miss Kelly. Seeing them always makes me wish I’d had another baby.” The words caught in my throat and I forced a cheerful look at Candace. “I can’t believe my baby’s at Berkeley.”
    
Candace’s eyes met mine, but she didn’t have to say a word. We had analyzed the situation a hundred times. Maybe a thousand.
    
Another baby? Chris had flat out refused. After Kelly was born, I was hit with a case of postpartum depression. Then, new-parent anxiety and sleep issues. Months into being a threesome, I was still grumpy, Chris was irritable, and baby Kelly cried on and off for hours.
    
Then the fog lifted. Almost gone were the every-two-hour feedings, changing eighteen diapers in a day, and wearing clothes dotted with baby spit-up. After a full year passed, my obstetrician officially declared me “healthy,” and I decided to bring up the baby idea again.
Silence. Then excuses from Chris. We’re just getting things back to normal. But Kelly just started sleeping through the night.
    
What about the preeclampsia? What about the high blood pressure? Doctor bills? What about being on bed rest another four months? Who would take care of Kelly?
    
“Wait a minute,” I protested. “I was the one who gave up my career to stay home. Shouldn’t I have a say in all of this? It’s my body, after all.”
    
Stubborn didn’t begin to describe Chris’s attitude. He was a cement wall.
   
Before Kelly’s third birthday, I brought it up one last time. “I really want to have another baby. Kelly could have a playmate. I’ll stay home with both of them for a while and then get my career back on track.” It sounded perfectly logical to me.
   
For Chris, it was the last straw. “Work?” he replied tightly, the veins on his head starting to pop. “Don’t you realize that was the whole reason you ended up in the hospital during your pregnancy? Your job.” Chris rolled his eyes. “The long hours? All that time on your feet? The deadlines? Your body couldn’t handle it. You can’t have both.”
    
I recoiled like I’d touched an electric fence. Chris held his ground. We never talked about it again.