An Imperfection in the Kitchen Floor

by Heather Greenleaf

  Luckily, she started at the other end of the circle, as I almost laughed out loud at the question. As if I listened to anything but Hayden’s screaming.

  “We like a lullaby CD,” one mother said.

  “I just put on the news and she conks right out,” another said.

  “Madison likes jazz,” a mommy added.

  “I can listen to anything I’d like. The car lulls Joey to sleep,” said the next in line.

  Soon it would be my turn. How was I going to be honest? This was like being in a room full of Jocelyns. All of these mothers seemed to be loving motherhood, loving their easy babies, all smiles and sunshine. Their ease made my struggles seem worse.

  I felt awful. Maybe I should just pretend to have a happy baby. He was content right now; perhaps it would be believable.

  The woman next to me answered, “I can’t listen to anything in the car. Delaney is a total jerk when she gets into the car seat.”

  Gasps and tongue clicks from the other mothers filled the room. The instructor laughed awkwardly, trying to smooth things over. I perked up, a burst of laughter exploding before I could hold it back. I looked at this lady next to me and thought, she gets it.

  “Why are you all so appalled?” she said. “I love her, but she acts like a total jerk in the car.”

  The other mothers looked away, not bothering to hide their disdain. The woman who made this declaration seemed unaffected. Her blond hair hung thick in an angled bob, and she ruffled the back to give it more volume, a gesture that somehow showed off her confidence.

  The instructor was uneasy and ready to move on, and so focused on me. “Ok. Well. Next is a new couple, baby Hayden and Mommy Molly. Molly, what do you and Hayden like to listen to in the car?”

  “Actually, we don’t listen to anything in the car either. He screams the whole time and the radio just adds to the noise. I guess you could say that Hayden is a jerk in the car too.”

  More gasps and haughty tongue clicks came from the rest of the group. I looked at the woman with the bob next to me and smiled. She smiled back.

  We broke away for free play at the instructor’s request and the other mothers moved their babies away from us quickly, scooping their infants up like protective chimpanzees. I sat still, not knowing how my infant would play on any of these play structures. The woman next to me stayed too.

  “Hi, I’m Christy,” she said. “This is Delaney.”

  “I’m Molly and this is Hayden, my jerk.”

  She grinned. “Is he a fussy baby?”

  “Unbelievably fussy. Delaney too?”

  “Yup, most of the time. It’s hard, isn’t it? Draining, and not what you expected it to be like when you had a baby. These other ladies just don’t seem to get it. They are all cheery with their jazz and news. What baby likes jazz?”

  I chuckled. “Madison is very sophisticated, I guess. Mature beyond her years.”

  As we laughed together, I was immensely comforted by being understood. We chatted about our husbands and families, getting to know each other. I told her about Aunt Tish’s house and she seemed interested in hearing more about it.

  Did I dare be completely honest?

  “It’s a mess, actually,” I said. Christy raised her eyebrows and I continued, “I think it was beautiful once, but it’s full of my husband’s aunt’s old things and he won’t let me get rid of any of it. Most of our stuff is still in boxes.”

  “Man. Is her stuff nice at least? When you say aunt with an old house, I start thinking about antiques and fine art.”

  “Oh, there’s art, all right. Old still life paintings and European townscapes. It’s not my style. And I didn’t think it was Corey’s either. Honestly, it’s like living in someone else’s skin. My husband has never been happier, though. It’s the home of his childhood. When we moved, he told me it was this great old house, lots of charm. But when we got up here, it was… well… it wasn’t as nice as he said it was.”

  “Could you change a few things?” Christy ventured.

  “I’m beginning to think that I can’t,” I said with a sigh.

  We talked a little more about our lives before and after baby and then Delaney started to cry, grabbing Christy’s attention. Like dominoes, the other babies’ moods’ fell one by one and soon the room was loud with crying babies and fretting mommies. Everyone packed up to leave. The instructor waved her hands in the air and with a forced smile called out, “Come to our open gym time when your baby isn’t fussy!” before retreating from the cacophony into a back room.

  I soothed Hayden with a smile on my face. Welcome to my world, ubermoms.

  ●●●

  Dad made arrangements to fly in the night before Corey left, and Corey planned to pick him up from the airport. Hayden had been up repeatedly through the night, and when the sun came up, I was awake to watch it. I fumbled with the ridiculously long wrapping of the baby sling, positioned it over my spit-up soaked pajamas, tucked Hayden in, and went downstairs.

  Corey eventually came down and settled at the dining room table to read the newspaper.

  “Morning, family,” he said. “Okay, so I’ll pick your dad up around seven tonight and we’ll come here. Do you want to go out for dinner or shall we pick up some take-out on the way home?”

  “Take-out. He may be tired from his trip, and I’m always tired.”

  “Take-out it is, then.”

  “I’ll call Han Palace so it will be ready for pick-up when you get there.”

  “Sounds good. See you later tonight,” Corey said. He kissed the top of Hayden’s head and left for work.

  I spent the day tidying up as best as I could and putting the sheets on the guest bed. I was excited to see my dad, but wary too. We hadn’t seen each other in a while. I reminded myself to be grateful that he was coming to see me now.

  I didn’t have time to think on it much further as no amount of feeding, soothing, or snuggling would calm Hayden that day. I walked him back and forth, trying everything I could to make him happy and counting the minutes until Corey arrived back home. A little after six o’clock, I fell to the couch and latched Hayden on. He quieted and nursed and I started to nod off myself.

  The door slamming woke me up.

  “Molly? Molly? Did you order the food?” Corey called from the foyer.

  “What…” I said, looking around. The room was dark now and I wondered what time it was. I must have ordered; the smell of greasy wok found my nose. The lights flicked on, bright and accusing. I rubbed my eyes.

  “Did you order the food? Your dad and I went to Han Palace and they said they didn’t have an order for us. We waited forty minutes. I’ve been calling you.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I said, standing up and tucking myself back into my shirt. I saw my father standing silently in the doorway. “Hi, Dad.” I said, moving toward him and greeting him with an embrace.

  From afar, I could feel Corey’s anger, the stiffness in his posture, frustration at me radiating in waves.

  “Sorry about the food,” I said. “I must have fallen asleep. Welcome to Willow Grove, Dad. Come on in. Would you like to hold him?”

  Dad sat down and took off his windbreaker. I gently placed Hayden in his arms and watched him smile at his grandson.

  “I’ll go get some plates,” I said, grabbing the food and going to the kitchen. Corey followed me.

  “What’s going on, Molly?” he hissed. “You’re not even dressed. You had one job today and that was to order the food. I’m starving.”

  “Keep your voice down. You’re embarrassing me. I said I was sorry about the food. I actually had two jobs today, by the way. The first was taking care of your son. I’ve been up since four a.m., and I fell asleep. I had a hard day. I said I’m sorry.”

  “I had a hard day too.” Corey ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Let’s just eat.” He took the plates from the cabinet and huffed into the dining room.

  We started dinner in silence, helping ourselves to the food. There was
estranged awkwardness from one side of me, overblown anger from the other.

  “The house is really beautiful,” Dad ventured into the tense air. “I love its old charm.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Corey said, now in happy territory. “I have loved this house my whole life. We celebrated every holiday here, and sometimes my parents would even ship me off to Aunt Tish for the summer. I’m so glad we have it and can give Hayden the same type of childhood.”

  I busied myself chewing.

  “And, Molly? How about you? Settling in okay?” Dad asked.

  I nodded, swallowing hard and using the time to think of an answer that wouldn’t start another argument with Corey. “Yes. I don’t really get out much yet.”

  “Well, tomorrow, we’re going out,” Dad said. “On the drive in, I saw a, how do you say it, P-H-O, restaurant. What the heck is that? I think I want to try it. My treat.”

  I smiled. “It’s Vietnamese, Dad. It’s pronounced fah and you’ll like it. I haven’t been to this one, but I’m sure it’s good.”

  “Sounds like you have a nice day planned,” Corey said. “Thanks for coming, Rich.”

  Corey kissed the baby but tersely brushed by me before walking up to bed.

  ●●●

  Corey slept through the night, snoring softly when I woke with Hayden. His alarm sounded early, but I chose to snooze through. He was gone, flying to Houston, by the time I fully woke. Dad and I puttered around until lunch.

  “Hayden hates the car, Dad. Just warning you,” I said as I lugged the car seat down the front steps. It had taken me most of the morning to gather the things that I would need for our short outing to the Vietnamese restaurant. Dad hauled it all in my overstuffed diaper bag behind me down the stairs.

  “It’s a short trip. We’ll be okay. If it will help, I’ll sit in the back with him.”

  “How do you know so much about babies?” I asked.

  “Well, you were a baby once. And we have had lots of visits from Nicholas, Joseph, and Michael when their kids were babies.”

  I kept silent. Nicholas, Joseph, and Michael. Of course he had spent time with them and their children. Despite my dad being right in front of me, I could taste my loneliness for him. I watched him, like I would a stranger on the street, cooing and chatting to Hayden. By the time I was settled in my seat, Hayden was quiet, mesmerized by my dad.

  At the restaurant, they offered us a high chair, turning it over to show me how it held the car seat. It was wobbly, though, and in the end, I opted to put the seat on the chair closest to the wall. Hayden was asleep.

  “Let’s order quick. This might not last!” I said, pulling off my jacket and opening the menu.

  After ordering, Dad looked at me and asked, “So, how are you, really?” I was surprised by his sudden intimacy. As if he had earned it.

  “Dad, come on. I’m fine.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to discuss it. I didn’t want to cry in this restaurant.

  “Molly. I flew all the way up here, left your stepmother alone to shop and spend god knows how much. Please don’t lie to me.”

  I fiddled with my chopsticks. And then the answer flooded out of me. “I don’t know, Dad. This is harder than I thought. I thought Hayden would arrive and—poof!—I’d just know what to do, he would be happy, and I would love him instantly. And I do love him, it’s just that, sometimes, well, sometimes, it’s really hard to like being a mom. He is always crying. I feel like such a failure, and I am so exhausted that I’m not even myself. And the house is terrible. It isn’t my own and I’m afraid it never will be.” A tear slid down my face and onto the tablecloth, making a dark wet circle.

  “And things with Corey?”

  “Aww, Dad, you saw how it was last night. It’s not good. I can’t even focus on our relationship. Everything is about keeping this little being alive and happy, and there isn’t room for anything else. Corey works really hard but doesn’t seem to see how hard I am working just to stay afloat.” I took a sip of water and continued. “It’s hard living in Aunt Tish’s shadow. I have never even met her but I feel like I am supposed to just fit right into her life, be as caring and perfect as she was. That’s what Corey wants. He’s never home, though. I am stuck in the house that only he loves, without him. My only company is Hayden, and he screams at me all day.”

  I looked up at Dad and couldn’t read his face. Maybe I had gone too far. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “I’m sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t be unleashing this all on you. I’m fine, really. I’m just adjusting.”

  “Molly, don’t do that. I don’t know what to do about Corey, but I do know that being a new mom is hard. Your mom thought so too. I didn’t help much. I was working, I guess. It was just the way of things.”

  “Did I ever tell you what Mom told me before she died? She said that I should do more than be a wife and mother.”

  “Is that what you want? Are you thinking about going back to work?”

  “I would like to eventually, I think. What I’d really like is to fix up the house. Make it more my own. That may make me feel better. What do you think Mom would say about all of this? I miss her so much.”

  “Me too.” I knew he was telling the truth. “She would say you should do what makes you happy.”

  “I think that she would have been a big help with Hayden,” I said. “I think I could have called her and asked her questions and advice. Without her, I feel like I have to be strong and figure it out on my own. I’m afraid I’m not doing a very good job.”

  Dad reached across the table and took my hand.

  “Look at that kid,” he said, gesturing toward Hayden, whose mouth was moving in a slumbering suckle. “You’re doing a better job than you think, Molly. I’m proud of you, and Mom would be too,” he said.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  The tablecloth began to be polka dotted with my tears, but I felt better than I had in days. The waiter arrived with bowls of exotic broth. My sadness curled up with the steam rising from the soup and dissipated somewhat. I was grateful that my father had come to visit, and told him so. We tucked into our meal.

  ●●●

  I woke up the next morning excited about what Dad and I would do together with Hayden that day. Where would we go? Maybe a walk? Maybe the park? Maybe he would want to try another restaurant? There was a baby class on our schedule, but we could skip it. Or maybe Dad would want to tag along? With our renewed closeness, I was ready to face the day.

  I found my father downstairs, dressed, suitcase by the door. Confused, I asked, “Dad? What’s going on?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the floor.

  “Your stepmother called last night. I need to get back.”

  My mouth was suddenly dry. “What? You just got here. Corey is still out of town. Your flight isn’t scheduled for two more days.”

  “I know, it’s just, well… last night when she and I talked, she said that there is a crisis with Michael. She doesn’t really want me to talk about it. She rescheduled my flight for eleven this morning. A shuttle is coming.”

  My heart was seizing in my chest. What was happening? Was he really leaving? After everything I had confided in him yesterday?

  Dad leaned in to kiss my cheek and I stood stock still. He went to hold Hayden and I pivoted away from him.

  “No, Dad,” I said. “I can’t believe you are leaving now.”

  “I’m sorry, Molly. Your stepmother needs me.”

  “I need you too, Dad! Weren’t you listening? I am drowning here. Look around you—we have been here for months and we are still living out of boxes. These bags under my eyes may never go away. Corey isn’t coming back for three more days!”

  “I am sorry, sweetie, but my flight has been changed already.” He took me by the shoulders. “You can do this. The shuttle is here. I have to go.”

  “Fine, go,” I said, knowing that I would not be able to make him stay. I felt like a child on the first day of school, watching my parent walk
away, full of fear and uncertainty at what lay ahead.

  He tucked his head and left. Fury rose up at the two men who had abandoned me and I slammed the door behind him. A pane of glass fell out of the ancient door and shattered at my feet.

  Through the empty space in the door, I watched my dad ride away.

  Hayden reared his head back and began to wail.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tish, 1920

  December’s early darkness had come and the daylight, highlighted with reds and golds of a lingering autumn, fell quickly. I was nearly finished with the night’s dinner of roast beef and Lyonnaise potatoes. The onions were popping in the browning butter. Drips from the meat sizzled in the oven as they hit the tray beneath.

  I finished slicing the potatoes and began to turn on the house lights. Oliver played with his trains on the rug in the front room, periodically sounding a loud whistle and station announcement.

  Papa and Mama arrived home from town, shivering and windblown. Now that it was certain that I was leaving town, Mama had been helping Papa at the shop for the past few weeks. While she reacquainted herself with the tasks there, she had put me in charge of Ollie and dinners at home.

  Ellis still refused to work at Hess’s Delicatessen and took a job again at the shipyard. He continued to have dark days that scared me, but on those days he either left my company or simply stayed away, explaining later. The worry that lived at the pit of my stomach for the entire war had now morphed and taken up permanent residence. Ellis wasn’t getting any better.

  And neither was Papa’s business. They had made some changes, but still customers were scarce. We were planning my wedding, which should have been a happy time, but worries clouded everyone’s enthusiasm.

  Mama entered the kitchen, bringing cold air with her.

  “It’s snowing,” she said.

  Turning from the stove to the window, I watched for a moment as the magical fairy dust collected on the pine boughs. Soon the branches would be heavy and drooping. Like a kitten on soft feet, the downy fat flakes tamped out all sound, creating a universal hush as it blanketed the yard.