Unconditional

by Linda Rettstatt

  “Oh, Mom, of course I want you here. I’m scared to death.”

  She took my hand. “Nothing to be afraid of. Giving birth is perfectly natural.”

  “It’s not the birth part. It’s everything after. What if I’m not as good as you at this mothering thing?”

  She sat down and motioned for me to sit beside here. Holding both of my hands in hers, she said, “You will be a wonderful mother. There are only two things you need—love and patience. Love will guide you in giving your child everything he or she needs to grow. Patience will help you let him or her test the limits along the way. I found the love came naturally. The patience, you have to work on. You can learn the other stuff—diaper changing, formula, bathing. I can help you with that.”

  “When I think of the ways I tested my limits with you and Daddy…”

  She nodded. “And look how you turned out. You and your sister, both. Beautiful, smart, talented women. You’re ready for this, sweetheart.” She stood, tugging me up with her. “And I’ll be right here for backup. Here come Audrey and your father. Let’s go have some lunch.”

  I waited at the curb while Audrey ran to the parking garage and returned with the car. As we exited the airport, she asked, “Where to?”

  “Eat‘n’Park,” Dad said. “There are no Eat‘n’Parks in Florida and, besides, they have a healthy menu and a salad bar.”

  I lifted an eyebrow with astonishment.

  “Your mother has to watch her diet,” he said.

  Sitting beside him in the back seat, Mom poked an elbow in his ribs. “And so do you.”

  He tried to frown at her, but the corners of his mouth pulled up all the same.

  If I could be half as good at parenting as my own parents were, my baby just might turn out okay. But they had parented Audrey and myself together. I was in this pretty much on my own.

  Later, as we entered the city and headed toward Audrey’s apartment building, my parents chattered about their anticipation of becoming grandparents and the plans they had for their grandchild. Audrey added her excitement and plans to be my number one babysitter.

  I was not in this alone.

  ~ * ~

  Audrey called me the following afternoon. “Hey, what time do you want us there for dinner tonight?”

  “Six o’clock. What are Mom and Dad up to today?”

  “Dad brought me in to work, then took the car. He has some business meeting involving the apartment building in Oakland. He’s being very secretive about it. He said he’ll have news tonight when we gather for dinner.”

  “You don’t think he and Mom are planning to move back up here, do you?”

  “Doubt it. They love the weather in Florida. Can I bring anything for dinner? Dessert?”

  “I already made a fresh fruit salad. We’re having broiled tilapia and wild rice.”

  “But, Daddy—”

  “Daddy will eat better if he knows it’s good for Mom.”

  She laughed. “Good point. You don’t think she faked the heart attack just to scare him into better habits.”

  “You know Mom. Anything’s possible. I’ll see you at six.”

  I hung up, wondering about my father’s business dealings. The apartment building he owned was his pride and joy, as well as a good source of income. It held eighteen one and two-bedroom units and rarely had a vacancy. But with the economy tanking, maybe he was losing money.

  ~ * ~

  At five-forty-five, Audrey opened the door and called, “We’re here.”

  I turned on the burner under the pot for the rice. “In the kitchen.”

  My mother ooh’d and aah’d as she made her way through the living room. “This house is charming.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I met her in the doorway and gave her a hug. “It’s small, but enough space for me and the baby.”

  “Not like your other house, the one Thomas kept,” my father muttered.

  “Dad, I chose to leave that house. He’s buying me out. Let’s not talk about Thomas tonight. Audrey, would you put the rice in the pot when the water starts to boil? I’ll show Mom and Dad the rest of the house.”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  When I ushered my parents into the nursery, my mother gasped. “Oh, it’s a wonderful room. And look, you already have a crib and changing table.” She crossed to the window. “And my old rocking chair. I nursed you and your sister in this chair.”

  “I brought it from the house. Thomas bought the other things and assembled them.”

  “That’s the least he could do,” my father said.

  “Look, Dad, I know you’re upset with Thomas. So am I. But he and I have to find some way to deal with being parents to our child. At least he’s trying to do something to be of help. And, let’s face it, baby furnishings are expensive. This doesn’t exonerate him, but it does help me out.”

  My mother curled an arm around my back. “You’re right, honey. You and Thomas have to work this out your own way.” She shot my father a meaningful glance. “Right, Abe?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. “Right.”

  I took in a breath and exhaled, not convinced the case was closed. “Okay, so let’s have a nice dinner. And, Daddy, Audrey and I want to know what’s going on with the Oakland apartment building.”

  The healthy meal I’d prepared drew praise from my mother and less enthusiasm from my father. Nothing was fried, battered, or smothered in gravy.

  Dad set down his fork and leaned with his forearms on the table. “I sold the Oakland property.”

  “What?” I asked. “You love that building.”

  “I do. But it’s been a pain lately, always getting calls from the manager about repairs, people not paying rent. It’s one thing or another. So, your mother and I talked about it, and I turned it over to a commercial realtor. We got a good offer that we accepted. We signed the papers today.”

  “That’s great, Dad,” Audrey said.

  But something about it troubled me. “Dad, you swore you’d never sell that building. It meant so much to you and Mom. Is there something you’re not telling us? Are you having money problems?”

  “Of course not. I retired three years ago so your mother and I could move to Florida and enjoy life a little, maybe travel more. But that building still demanded much of my time. It’s hard to find good management, and I’m always getting phone calls to solve one problem or another. When I had that little health episode a while back, and then when your mother had her heart attack, I started to think about how much time she and I have to spend together.”

  He covered my mother’s hand with his. “So, I sold the building. Next spring, your mother and I are taking a three-week cruise. I’m giving each of you girls some of the money, too. Audrey, you can buy yourself a new car. And Meg, you can use money for the baby, I’m sure.”

  “Daddy, we don’t want your money. And I don’t need a new car,” Audrey said.

  My father and I responded in unison, “Yes, you do.”

  I laughed. “Dad, that’s very generous, but you should keep that money for you and Mom. You’ve always wanted to visit Germany, and Mom wants to go back to Ireland.”

  “And we will do those things. But what we both want the most is to make sure you girls have what you need first.”

  “Mom, is your heart condition more serious than you’ve told us?” I fixed my eyes on hers.

  She didn’t blink. “Are you accusing your mother of lying?”

  “No, but—”

  “Your father and I discussed this and made a decision. The building would have gone to the two of you eventually. This way you don’t have to fight over who gets to fix the plumbing.” She smiled. “You’ll make us both very happy if you accept the thirty thousand dollars we’re giving each of you.”

  “Thirty thousand dollars?” I exclaimed.

  Mom held up a hand and continued, “And use it however you need. We’re setting up a trust fund for the baby, too. And the rest we’ll invest.”

 
; I knew when not to argue with either of my parents. “Okay. Thank you.” I cleared our dinner plates and started to brew a pot of decaf.

  “What’s for dessert?” my father asked.

  “Fruit.” I set the bowl of orange wedges, banana slices, and slivers of apple topped off with plump strawberries on the table.

  He frowned. “Oh.”

  This man just gave me thirty thousand dollars, and I offered him a bowl of fruit. “I think I have frozen yogurt in the freezer, Dad, if you’d like a scoop.”

  His face brightened. “Now you’re talkin’.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Stanley Porcopski, age sixty-four, died as the result of a lightning strike while playing golf at the Southview Country Club on Wednesday, August 15. Visitation will be on Friday from 2 p.m. to 9 p.m. and Saturday from 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. at Kriegel Funeral Home in Polish Hill. Mass of Christian Burial will be held at noon on Saturday at St. Stanislaus R.C. Church. Mr. Porcopski is survived by his former wife, Marjorie Allen Porcopski, and their two sons, Stephen and Harold, one daughter-in-law, and three grandchildren.

  ~ * ~

  “Why are you reading the obituaries?”

  I startled. “Mom, I didn’t hear you come in. I…uh… I have to go to this funeral on Saturday. Just to the cemetery.” I had considered that continued funeral attendance might not be good for the baby—all that mourning. But I couldn’t help myself. It had become a way of handling stress. Sick, perhaps. But it worked. I made a firm decision that this would be my last funeral crashing.

  “Who?” Mom snatched the paper from my hand and lifted it closer, squinting to read without her glasses. “This man’s your father’s age. Do we know these people?”

  Taking back the paper, I shook my head. “No. It’s…uh…the husband of someone I know. A client, but pretend I never told you that.”

  “Oh, confidentiality. Look, it says his former wife. They must have divorced. Guess the marriage counseling didn’t work out.” She pointed to the page. “I feel bad for the boys.”

  “Yes, the boys. Well, they’re grown men.”

  “But it’s still hard to lose a parent. You know what, I’m going with you. Just to show the family some support.”

  “No! I mean, that’s not a good idea, Mom. With her being my…client. You know, people will want to know who you are and then ask who I am and, well…”

  But she patted my arm. “Nonsense. They won’t even notice. We’ll sit in the back of the church.”

  “Church? I wasn’t going to the mass, just to the cemetery.”

  Mom arched her eyebrows. “We’ll go to the mass. It’ll mean a lot to them to have people there. Trust me, when you get older and don’t have so many friends or much family, you appreciate a few more mourners at a funeral. Maybe we should visit the funeral home.”

  “No, absolutely not. That would put…” I glanced at the obituary, searching for a name. “…Marjorie in a difficult position, trying to explain who I am and how she knows me. Maybe it’s a bad idea to even attend the funeral.” I was a terrible liar and felt heat splotches rising on my neck and face.

  “Honey, you worry too much. She’ll be happy that you’re there for her. But I can see where the funeral home could be a little close. We’ll just go to the church and the cemetery. I need to see if I brought anything suitable to wear for a funeral. If not, I’ll get your father to take me shopping later.”

  Mom headed for the back porch to retrieve Dad and return to Audrey’s apartment. I thought of heading for the roof…and jumping off. Perhaps I could claim morning sickness and cancel the funeral visit. “Oh, God, what have I gotten myself into?”

  ~ * ~

  On Saturday morning, I was just about to pick up the phone and call Mom to say I was not going to the funeral, when someone knocked on the front door. I tightened the belt of my bathrobe over my bulk and peered through the security hole. My mother, donning a black dress, stood on the other side. Audrey stood beside her, digging into her purse and extracting a key.

  Mom stepped inside as I pulled open the door. “We’re going to be late if you don’t get dressed. We want to get to the church in plenty of time to get a seat in the back where we can be inconspicuous. I was going to have your father come with us, but he didn’t bring his suit.”

  I shifted my gaze from my mother to Audrey, who simply rolled her eyes and said, “I need to use the powder room.”

  “Mom, I was just about to call you. I’m not feeling so great this morning, so I think I’ll skip the funeral.”

  She cupped a cool hand under my chin. “You look okay. Your color’s good. I know what you need. You go ahead and shower. I’ll make tea and toast. You just need something in your stomach.”

  “But—”

  “Unless you want to stay home. Audrey and I can go on your behalf.”

  “No! You can’t do that. Give me ten minutes.” I hurried into the bathroom. While the water in the shower warmed, I stared at my face in the mirror. “You’re screwed. And you have no one to blame but yourself.” If I could just throw up and look sick. But I was fine. After weeks of retching that gave me a sickly pallor, now I was fine.

  With resignation, I removed my robe and pajamas and stepped into the shower. After drying my hair, I slipped on the robe and crossed the hall to my bedroom. My mother had already laid out clothing—my little black dress that was never going to slide over my swollen middle. I hung it back in the closet and removed a pair black slacks and a gray and black vertically striped blouse.

  I finished getting dressed, then slumped down on the bed. I have completely lost my mind. “Okay, so we’ll go to the mass and then I’ll find a reason to come right home.” I stood, straightened the blouse over my belly, and resolutely trudged to the front door.

  ~ * ~

  St. Stanislaus Church sat on a narrow side street and had a small rear parking lot. When Audrey pulled her car into the lot, she was directed to park behind the last car that had arrived. I led the procession, followed by my mother, then Audrey. The church, long and narrow, was dimly lit, and a tomb-like chill swept over me as the heavy wooden door closed behind us. As I approached the last pew, an usher nodded and asked, “Which side of the family?”

  I smiled, “Oh, we’re not family. We’re…uh…friends. We’ll just sit back here.”

  “Please, follow me.” He turned and walked up the center aisle. The usher stopped five pews from the front and turned, waving to us.

  My mother gave me a nudge. “Go on. He wants us to sit up front.”

  “I don’t want to sit up front,” I hissed.

  Voices echoed from behind as the organist began to play a hymn. I glanced back and saw that the pallbearers stood beside a gleaming copper casket and mourners were lined up to process in to the church.

  The usher waved frantically for us to be seated.

  Audrey stepped forward, linking an arm through mine and guiding me into the pew, with Mom following behind.

  Once the funeral mass began, I breathed a sigh of relief. This would all be over in another forty or fifty minutes. Communion wouldn’t take long. There were only about twenty people in attendance.

  As I sat there between my mother and Audrey, a familiar calm came over me. I couldn’t explain it and attributed it to being in church and to the solemnity of the occasion.

  Following the communion service, the priest stood at the microphone. “Stanley’s sons have asked if each you present would please come up and say a few words about their father. So, we’ll begin in the last pew on my left and let the family offer the final remarks. If you would, please.” He lifted a hand in my direction.

  I swiveled my head around, relieved to find two men in the pew behind us.

  One of them stood and walked solemnly to the microphone. He cleared his throat. “What can I say about Stan? He was a good friend. He beat me at golf every chance he got. We never got to finish our last game…” He choked up and wiped at his eyes. “I’ll miss you, Stan. See you on the big b
ack nine someday.”

  On his way back to his seat, the man stopped and greeted a woman seated in the front row between two younger men. Obviously, the not-so-grieving ex-wife.

  The next mourner said a few words and repeated the ritual greeting then returned to his seat. After a pause, everyone turned and looked back at the three of us. The priest lifted his hand to motion one of us forward. Audrey and Mom both stared at me, then my mother nudged me out of the pew, whispering, “Go on. Your client will appreciate it.”

  I stumbled forward, feeling like an animal trapped and on display. I reached the casket and paused, then straightened my shoulders and stepped to the microphone. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for your loss.” I hesitated. The family members in front of me stared. Waiting. “I…uh…didn’t really know Stanley…that well. But I’m sure he will be missed.” The last sentence came out in a rush of words. I glanced at the woman, Stanley’s ex-wife, and nodded as I passed. I drew in a deep breath and sank down onto the cool wooden seat. The testimonials of the rest of the mourners sounded as a low hum in my ears. Until I heard my mother gasp.

  I looked up. My mother’s eyes were fixed on the woman speaking from the sanctuary. Stanley’s ex-wife’s eyes were locked onto me. “She’s the one who destroyed my marriage. And she has the nerve to come here and flaunt herself in front of us in her…condition.”

  “What?” I shot to my feet. “I didn’t even know him. I don’t know any of you.”

  One of the sons moved to his mother’s side to ease her away from the microphone. But he wasn’t fast enough before the words, “You little slut” rang out through the old stone church.

  Audrey sank as low into the seat as her five foot nine frame would allow her. My mother’s face colored and she pointed at the woman. “You can’t talk to my daughter that way. Not after she’s been so helpful to you.”