by K L Finalley
On the screen, there was a slow movement. The baby rolled over. The room full of adults inched forward in their seats. Dena didn't speak. Instead, she made a circle on the screen, and they waited an eternity for her to make an announcement. But, she never did. Instead, words flashed on the screen. IT'S A GIRL!!!
The room filled with clapping and laughing. There was celebrating and crying. They didn't listen to the rest of the video. They didn't hear Elet's crying or Alex's crying. They didn't hear the pronouncement of the name. Elet tried to quiet them. He tried to redirect them, but he'd lost control.
Noticing that the video hadn't ended, Jacqueline was still watching it with Mallory's arms around her neck. She proclaimed, "Wait, there's more," then she took the remote from the table and backed it up.
The room stopped celebrating. They returned to their places. They heard Elet kiss Alex and tell her how happy he was. Dena picked up the camera and filmed his tears.
The room heard Alex ask, "Are you sure you're okay that it's not a boy?" Elet never answered. He couldn't. He had his head resting on her stomach, sobbing.
After a few minutes, he did muster the words to thank Dena who held the camera long enough for the two of them to say in unison. "Friends, thank you for always being there. We love you and we're so happy to introduce you to Paislee Ellarose Walden, the baby formerly known as Walden One."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As they climbed onto Interstate 275 and headed north, Zoe stared out the back window. Jacqueline looked at her as they were merging into traffic. When the two locked eyes, Jacqueline winked.
Zoe didn't wink back, but asked, "Jax, what are we doing after we leave Grandpa's house?"
"Looking at furniture," Jacqueline answered quickly. Saturday morning traffic heading out of St. Pete was brutal. She wanted to get into the middle lane and cruise for a few miles since she expected it would take nearly half an hour before reaching Temple Terrace.
"Do I have to go?" Zoe whined.
"Thought you might want to go. You wanted to be a part of house shopping and this is kinda a part of that," Jacqueline was hoping to convince her that she was a part of the overall experience.
"No, it's not. Can I stay with Grandpa and Grandma?" she begged. Jacqueline looked over at Mallory who was ignoring them from the passenger's seat.
"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Mallory rattled since she'd been brought into this conversation with her whiny eight-year old.
"All of that searching around is gonna be boring," she said. At eight, it was true. Watching adults debate colors and furniture was far from exciting.
"It'll be boring at Grandma and Grandpas," Mallory mentioned.
"No way. I got my tablet and there's TV. Maybe, Uncle Owen'll come by," Zoe sounded enthused.
"Sounds like a ball," Mallory said as she rolled her eyes. "You can ask them, Zoe."
"Can I text her?" Zoe asked.
"Fine, Zoe," Mallory was beaten. She passed Zoe her phone to contact her mother.
Mallory rested her head against the window and stared at the other traffic on the interstate. She wondered where those families might be headed. She wondered if it was somewhere fun. She was certain it was better than the discomfort she was about to thrust upon her own family this Saturday morning. She dreamed about the birthday parties or picnics at the beach they might be happily attending.
"Grandma said yes," Zoe announced from the backseat and placed the phone on the armrest.
As Mallory removed it, she looked over at Jacqueline. Dressed in a black polo and a pair of khaki cargo shorts, she was wearing her professional weekend attire, the clothes she wore when they had plans she didn't want to do but had to do. She noticed how Jacqueline stared blankly at the road. Her eyes were fixed. She was emotionless. Mallory was overcome with a sense of guilt. She pulled away from the window and reached out for her hand. "I can't thank you enough."
"For what?" Jacqueline said.
"For all of this. They aren't..."
"Don't do this. It's very nice of you."
"Of us. This is us. This isn't me," Mallory said.
"Hey, Mom," Zoe said from the back.
"Yes?"
"Is Miss Alex gonna have a girl?"
"Yes. Paislee Ellarose.
"Paislee Ellarose?
"You got it."
"Paislee is okay, but I don't like Ellarose. That's a weird name. "Do you like that name?" Zoe asked.
"Not my baby. Not my vote," Mallory said.
"It's a combination of their grandmothers' names. Elet's father's mother's name is Rose. Alex's mother's mother's name is Ella. Ellarose. Get it?" Jacqueline explained.
"I get it, but I still don't like it," Zoe remarked.
"No one liked Zoe as a name, but it wasn't their baby," Mallory told her.
"Did Daddy like Zoe?"
"Nope, he always wanted his daughter to be named after his mother."
"Connie?"
"You got it. Connie Gail Russell is what he wanted me to have named you," Mallory told her smugly.
"That's sucks!" Zoe exclaimed.
"Yeah, it does," Mallory said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jacqueline was standing outside the car with the door open. Her brown arms were resting on top of the roof. She was looking at the cream-colored concrete block house with its single car garage. She glimpsed at the flower garden near the door. It had remnants of plants long since gone. She noticed that the yard was otherwise barren. There were no trees. She wondered if they had purchased the house this way or if it had been cleared. As she looked around the neighborhood, trees were scarce. It made no sense. They weren't near the ocean. This was Temple Terrace. It was north of Tampa, close to the theme park and the University of South Florida. But there, she stood in the land between the interstates with no trees. That had to be an omen.
"Taking it all in?" Mallory teased.
"Just hanging out."
"Ready?"
"Whenever you are."
"Let's go," Mallory said. She was standing at the front of the car in a white tank top and a pair of royal blue shorts. She extended her hand and waited on Jacqueline to join. Jacqueline closed the car door, rifled through the deep pockets of her shorts, found her car keys, and with a beep headed to Mallory. Hand in hand, they strolled to the front door. Zoe ran ahead and rang the doorbell. As the couple rounded the curve from the walkway to the house, Zoe had entered the house and was in her grandparent's warm embrace. When they stepped inside, Mallory stepped forward and hugged her father. "Hi, Dad."
"Hi Red," Richard said. He hadn't combed the sparse hairs that remained on his head to the left side yet. They stood atop his head waving. He was barefoot, which was normal in households in Florida, but his toenails appeared to be fossil formations.
Behind him stood, Barbara, Mallory's mother. She was fully dressed. Her long, white hair was curled and pinned as if they had plans for the day that her daughter and her family had intruded upon. "There's my daughter. I can't believe she voluntarily drove out here to see her old parents."
Mallory opted to not be pulled into this web of guilt. "Hi, Mom," and she gave her a kiss and a hug.
Jacqueline stood behind Mallory during this exchange. She extended her hand into the air as if to wave to some far away people and said, "Morning."
"Your father and I are so interested to find out what made you want to drive out here to see us," Barb said as she brought out trays of cheese and crackers.
"Thank you," Jacqueline said.
"You made appetizers? You've never made appetizers. Why'd you make appetizers?" Mallory said staring at their Thanksgiving turkey plate with cheese slices and crackers on it.
"Sure, we've had appetizers before, Mallory," Barb cut her eyes at her daughter.
"Grandma, can I have peanut butter on mine?" Zoe asked. She'd already retrieved the peanut butter from the pantry and was in the living room with it. Talking to Barb who had her back turned, she repeated, "Grandma, can I?"
&n
bsp; "Zoe, put that back," Mallory declared.
"Let the girl have peanut butter on her hors d'oeuvres," Barb overruled.
"What's going on here?" Mallory sat on the black pleather couch and heard it crinkle beneath her.
In the serving of the first course, the party was unaware of Richard's absence. From the hallway beyond the kitchen, he reemerged with something in his hand that Mallory could not make out. He barreled in Jacqueline's direction and sat down next to her on the couch. His proximity made things so tight that Mallory stood. "After dinner on Wednesday, Barb and I came back here and found this. Look!" and he shoved an album at Jacqueline.
Attempting to swallow her crackers and cheese without a beverage, Jacqueline delayed a moment. After her mouth was as empty as she could make it, she said, "Look at this. This is the In the Wake album. It went gold." She pulled the record out of its sleeve. "You've kept it in pristine condition. I didn't know you were a collector."
"Oh, yeah. We have tons of records," Richard admitted.
"Collector? I've never heard them, even, listen to music," Mallory said.
"Look," he pointed to the second song on the A side. "There's Ocean Lovin'. Barb and I came home after dinner and played it and relived the old days."
"Eww," Mallory looked sick.
Zoe entered the room and stood in front of Jacqueline. "Hey, look, Jax. That's your mother."
With surprise in his voice, Richard quizzed his granddaughter, "Zoe, you've met Sheryl Ralph? When? Where?"
"Uh huh. She's Jax's mom. We saw her at the lakehouse. She made me breakfast and she sang that song with me."
"You heard Sheryl Ralph sing?" he placed his hands up her armpits.
"Yep, Jax told me to ask her to teach me the words to that song and she started singing it. It was loud. She held my hand and we went upstairs where Jax was playing the piano. She sings good, Grandpa. Hey, that guy's Jax's dad, but he's dead. Isn't he Jax?" Zoe said and moved into her lap.
"Yep, he is." Jacqueline smiled.
"We've got pictures of him at the condo," Zoe said. "We sold his house and now, we got boxes of his stuff." Eight year olds have no concept of what should or shouldn't be told. Information is only true or not true and, truth is meant to be shared.
Richard didn't evaluate any of this information. He was in awe of the reality that a band he'd enjoyed as a young man really existed in a tangible way; more importantly, its derivative sat it in his living room. And, his lineage had heard its lead singer sing live. He was speechless.
But, Barb was not. "What's this I hear?"
"That's not what's important, but it's a good segue into why I…we're here. Zoe, go watch TV in the other room," Mallory said. She walked to the front of the room and stood in front of the television as if she had a sales pitch. Staring at their faces, she realized it might not be her best angle. "Why don't we all go into the dining room?"
"Why?" Barb asked.
"I... we wanna talk to you about something."
"Why can't we just talk here?" Barb asked.
"Mom!"
"Fine, Mallory. I don't know why you have to be so difficult. We have a perfectly good living room. We were all comfortable sitting on leather furniture under the ceiling fan, but now, we have to all get up and walk into the dining room that no one…" Barb continued her mini-rant as Mallory and Jacqueline followed behind her. They were unaware that Richard had remained in the living room. As Barb entered the dining room, she turned on the light to expose months' worth of mail and books stacked on the floor and table, she continued. "I tried to explain to my daughter that we'd be better in the living room, but she, of course, knows best. So, here we are in this Godforsaken place with poor light and uncomfortable chairs…"
"Where's Dad?" Mallory inquired. "Shit." She went back for him. "Dad, can you please get in the dining room? Please."
"Oh, sure, Red," he said nonchalantly.
"What were you doing in there alone?"
"I was thinking how I should've done more," Richard admitted.
"I couldn't agree more, Dad, but I think you're stuck with her," Mallory said and pushed him into the dining room. "Okay, I think I've got all of you, now."
"Look at all of this stuff. I tell your father every day we need to get rid of this stuff, but he says we can't. This is his filing system. This." Barb's arms were out by her side. She was waving them about the room.
"I get it, Mom. This is a cry for help and we're gonna get a backhoe and tackle this next time, but that's not today's project. Okay?" Beads of sweat had appeared on Mallory's lip. Her coiffed hair had started to fall. Rarely did she sweat, but her pits glistened as she placed her hands on her hips. "Okay, We. Jacqueline and me. She and I, as a unit, are making some changes in our life. Zoe blurted out that we sold Jacqueline's father's house in California, who, apparently, was Dad's idol. I'm sorry, Dad. If I had known, we'd have taken you to see it. That's no matter now. We also have Jacqueline's condo on the market, which is a fact I wasn't gonna mention but I guess that's incidental," she was starting to babble. "She and I are shopping for a new house for us. She and I and Zoe. Something better suited for a family." Jacqueline coughed. Mallory gazed in her direction and Jacqueline lifted her eyebrows. She returned to her point. "Right. So, I remember when you had to move from our house in Plant City to Temple Terrace for Dad's work. And, I know you had to take a mortgage out on this place, because whatever you got on the old place wasn't enough to cover this place. Well, we — Jacqueline and I — want to offer to take over this mortgage to help out."
Immediately, Barb said, "No, Owen would never understand."
Mallory turned her head slowly to her mother and squinted. "What?"
"We can't. Owen wouldn't understand." Barb repeated.
"Understand, what?"
"Owen wouldn't understand us taking your help."
"I don't understand," Mallory was confused. She pointed to herself.
"Mallory, you saw what happened in the restaurant. I can't go through that, again. Every month. Owen would never understand us getting help from you...you two."
Mallory crossed her left arm and rested right elbow on the back of her left hand. Using her right index finger, she rubbed her right temple, "You won't accept our help, because Owen, who can't help you, wouldn't understand?"
"The restaurant left me worried for days," Barb admitted.
"Still has me worried," Jacqueline mumbled.
"What?" Mallory asked.
"Nothing," Jacqueline said.
"Mom, this doesn't make sense. Helping out financially is more important than Owen's understanding."
Barb snickered. "You're a mother. You tell me if that's really true."
"You can't compare my eight-year-old to your grown ass son." Then, there was silence. Heads dropped. Richard examined the pile that sat in front of him. Jacqueline sat quietly.
Mallory perched on the stack of papers that lined the wall beside where she'd been standing. Then, she said, "Just don't tell him. He doesn't know how your mortgage gets paid now. How'd he ever know otherwise?" No one responded. Richard looked up for a second and returned to his stack. Jacqueline stared at her with surprise but said nothing. Barb never moved. Then, Mallory faced her own humiliation. "I can't believe I even suggested that. You don't want us to help you, because Owen'll be pissed off. And, I just suggested you lie to him rather than admit that your daughter is willing and able, I might add, to help you! But, you'd rather struggle to make ends meet than piss off Owen. Does that sound right?"
Clearly offended, Barb retorted, "We don't live in a penthouse in the sky, but we do not struggle to make ends meet, Mallory."
"Fine, but you could have an extra eight or nine hundred dollars in your pocket every month, Mom," she said as she rubbed the makeup off her face. "Dad, do you have anything to say?"
"Mallory, your mother has spoken," Richard said as he sorted his stack.
"Dad, you're the sole provider. You've been the only provider for this family my wh
ole life. You get up and go to work to pay for this house. I'm telling you right now that we'll pay for it. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to pay it back. We don't want anything from you. We're doing it, because we can. That's it. No strings attached," Mallory pleaded her case.
"I hear ya, Red, and I appreciate what you're sayin', but your mother said no thank you."
"But, she doesn't even earn any money!"
"Mallory Ann, that's quite enough," Barb warned.
"You're right, Mom. It is quite enough. I've done everything I can. We're leaving. I love you. We'll pick up Zoe later," Mallory stormed out of the dining room.
Jacqueline was motionless for a moment, then she realized she was supposed to follow. As she exited the room, she said, "Thank you for having me."
Barb said, "Tell that daughter of mine we'll bring Zoe home tomorrow."
Politely, Jacqueline responded, "Yes, ma'am, I will," then she walked outside to locate Mallory.
Pacing in the front yard, Mallory was talking to herself. She'd expected her parents to be too proud to accept her attempt to pay the mortgage. She hadn't expected her parents to think too highly of her brother's feelings to accept her offer. "This is amazing. This is fuckin' amazing." She spoke to Jacqueline when she saw she'd arrived. Pointing to the house, she screamed, "Those two are pandering to some kinda homophobic, racist svengali. I mean, why wouldn't they want things to be a little easier? He's been working at that damn distribution station for years. Now, I know he's made Ground Manager, but he can't be making good money. And. And. Even if he is, why wouldn't he want us to pay off this hotbox they bought?" Jacqueline didn't answer. "It's not like Owen and Noelle can." Her fumes were running out. She sat down on the curb. "What is it about Owen? Why does what he thinks matter so damn much?"
"I don't know, baby."
"I never asked them to take care of me or Zoe. They damn sure didn't offer. We came over here to help, but they don't want our help. They just want Owen. What's so great about Owen?" She looked at Jacqueline with sadness in her eyes. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. "You know, things were never right. Ever. I graduated from college and invited them to come, but they didn't. Owen said it was too late to travel all the way to Orlando for a giant graduation. When I was in labor with Zoe, I called Mom and I asked her to come to the hospital. She said she'd come when Owen could drive her. She missed Zoe's birth. She got there the next morning. They've never done the right thing. I've wanted to pretend like things were right, but they really aren't."