Chapter 7
Mom was serious about the underwear, as it turned out. After lunch she drove the three of them to a department store. The place was massive and magnificent, but Zach felt acutely self-conscious standing in the underwear aisle while Mom searched for just the right size for him.
Dad must have noticed. "Kara, he's ten," he whispered. "Underwear aisle—a little awkward. I'm going to take him to find a baseball glove."
"And leave me here looking at boys' undergarments by myself?" she retorted. "You think this isn't awkward for me? I've been a mom for three hours! I ought to be looking for diapers, not underwear!"
Dad chuckled. "All right. Take him to the other clothes. I'll get the underwear."
Mom and Zach shared a relieved glance as they left that aisle. She led him to the boys' shirts, where both of them were much more at ease.
"Okay, Zach," she said, gazing around at a dozen circular racks packed with shirts, "I have no experience in buying clothes for a boy."
"Me, neither," he replied.
She eyed the racks nearest them with determination. "So, er… Why don't we start with a couple of shirts for school… And jeans. Better get you a jacket, too." She put her hands on her hips, sizing him up with her eyes. "You're expensive, young man. Three hours, and already you're messing up our budget."
Zach wasn't sure whether to feel guilty about that until she laughed and mussed his hair—he would have to get used to her doing that. She had done it four times since lunch. There seemed to be a lot of touching in families.
They got to work, and Mom quickly picked out three bright pink shirts for him to choose from.
"No way, Mom," he declared, rolling his eyes.
She held one up to his chest anyway, gauging the effect. "You'd look good in pink," she teased.
"I would die in pink," he retorted. "I finally have a mom, and she's trying to kill me!" She grinned and returned them to the rack.
They picked out a couple of more reasonable shirts and were making their way to the shelves of jeans when Mom suddenly lowered her voice. "Zach, look over there. See that woman? Very pregnant." She pointed ahead of them to a woman shopping with her young daughter. The woman turned, revealing a belly that was huge and round.
"She's as fat as Santa Claus!" Zach blurted out. Instantly, Mom grabbed him and yanked him out of sight behind the nearest shelf, just as the pregnant woman turned to look.
"Zach!" Mom shook her head at him sharply.
His eyes were wide with amazement. "She looks like she swallowed a basketball!"
Kara quickly placed a hand over his mouth. "Zach, it's not polite to talk about how fat pregnant women get. At least not where they can hear." He nodded his understanding and she removed her hand.
More quietly, he asked, "Does she really have a whole baby in there?"
Holding back laughter, Mom played with his hair again. That was the fifth time. "Yes. She's almost ready to give birth."
A new thought struck Zach. "If I didn't come out of your tummy," he asked, "where did I come from?"
Mom crossed her arms over her chest. "Someone else's tummy, Zach."
"How did I do that?" he inquired.
"Doctors who know how to help people have babies also know how to take cells from the dad and cells from the mom, put them together to start making a baby, and then put the new baby's cells inside another woman so they can grow. It's called having a surrogate mother." She peeked around the display to see whether the pregnant woman had moved on. "We didn't think they did that with you because they don't do it very often—and it's illegal, unless we ask them to do it, which we certainly did not. But that has to be what they did." Her voice became quieter, and sharper. "So I want to know who did this, and why, and…well, whose tummy you came out of."
Mom picked up a folded pair of jeans and considered them, though it seemed to Zach that her eyes weren't really seeing them. They were unfocused, and she frowned deeply. Suddenly she threw down the pair and snapped her head up toward the ceiling. "Why did you do this to us?" she demanded of it, still speaking softly, but angrily, so that Zach cringed involuntarily. "After all our hope was gone, you gave us a son, but then you gave him to another woman! Did I do something to deserve this? Was she really that much better than me?"
"Mom?" Zach said nervously.
His voice brought her back to herself, and after a momentary glance at him and a deep breath, she knelt to pick up the jeans again. "I'm sorry, Zach." She studied him sympathetically, as if he were suffering somehow, which he wasn't. "I just… Why would God let someone else…?" She refolded the jeans and flipped them back onto their shelf with an angry flick of her wrist.
Zach fumbled for something to say to comfort Mom. She had only accepted that she was his mother a few hours ago, after all; it had to be confusing for her. "Maybe Uncle Ben knows," he offered.
It worked. Mom smiled weakly, rubbed his head yet again, and resumed her study of the jeans. She picked out three pairs, then sent Zach to the dressing room to try them on. They satisfied her, so he and Mom crossed over to the jackets next, discovered a cool green and blue one, and added it to the growing pile in their cart.
Dad returned with packages of underwear and socks that he dropped into their shopping cart. He had also found windshield wipers and motor oil. Mom was finished collecting clothes, so Dad took over. "I'm in charge of the fun stuff," he told Zach, and led them through the toy section.
"Sporting goods and baseball supplies are back here." He turned down an aisle, but Zach, trailing him, stopped dead. Baseball gloves lining the back wall beckoned to him, but the aisle in-between was pink—entirely pink. Dolls, princess outfits, castles, hairbrushes—he had never seen so much pink in once place. It was dreadful.
"Zach?" Mom came to a sudden halt behind him.
"Girl aisle!" he whispered, horrified. Mom gaped at him, then laughed. He backed out of the aisle red-faced and hurried down the next one instead—a much friendlier aisle, stocked with monsters and hideous space aliens.
He rejoined Dad among the baseball supplies, and they picked out a left-hander's glove. Zach didn't lay it in the shopping cart; as they moved on, he carried it on his hand, savoring the feel of it.
Dad offered to let Zach select a few toys he would like, so Zach explored up and down each toy aisle except, of course, the pink. He picked out a soccer ball, but beyond that he was overwhelmed. He had never had toys. He finally gave up and looked to his parents for help. After much thought, they chose a package of blocks and gears that connected in all different ways and a couple of puzzles that Mom said they could assemble together.
Zach didn't know what else to buy, so Dad handed him ten dollars in cash. "Maybe you'll see something you want later."
They headed to the front of the store to pay for their goods. "Dad," Zach asked as they joined a checkout line, "what if someone comes and says I have to go to a different home, like you said? What will you do with all this stuff?"
Dad looked down at Zach. "Send it with you, I guess. We've missed ten years of birthday and Christmas presents. The least we could do would be to give you a little something."
Birthday presents, Christmas presents. It had been a long time since he had received either. Zach felt rich as they headed home with new clothes and his own glove, among other treasures. That afternoon, he played catch with Dad, breaking in the glove, and then he pulled out his new soccer ball and played with Paws. Paws didn't really understand soccer, but he got in the way a lot, which made it fun anyway.
It was another amazing day—the baseball game (even though they had lost), the trip to the store, playing with Dad and Paws. But by far, the best part had been when Mom and Dad had finally agreed that they were his parents. Now the three of them could be a real family. Grandmother, he recognized now, had not really been his grandmother. Now, though, he had a real mom and dad, and they loved him. This was the best time of hi
s life.
*****
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 42