Stretch Marks

by Kimberly Stuart

  “Now about this baby shower tomorrow.” Babs sighed like an Oscar contender. “I have run into so many obstacles trying to make this a classy event. And between you and me,” she lowered her voice, “Frankie is not exactly the best resource for glamour around these parts.”

  “Really?” Mia turned her head to stave off a smile. She sat down across from her mother.

  “Oh, no, she is not. She was no help in trying to procure a chocolate fountain or an ice sculptor.”

  Mia’s eyes grew wide. “You’re having an ice sculpture?”

  “Of course not,” Babs said. “Chicago prices are ridiculous. Now, if our onboard sculptor, Juan, were here? He’d whip out a stork and cradle in no time flat and probably only charge me for the ice.” She shook her head sadly. “People in this city have no conscience. We’re talking down payment on a house in Highlands Cove, sister girl. I ain’t playing.”

  Mia couldn’t contain her laughter, born mostly out of relief that she would not be luring Lars, albeit unwittingly, to a mock-up wedding reception orchestrated by her mother. “So ice is out. And the chocolate fountain?”

  “No go.” Sadness cloaked Babs’s face. “I called everywhere. Either the rental fee was exorbitant, and I mean exorbitant, or they were booked into November. I guess chocolate-fountain season doesn’t take a break in September.” Babs huffed, a pout pulling down her cheeks and the corners of her mouth.

  “Thank you for trying,” Mia said, putting her hand on Babs’s and smiling at her mother. “I really appreciate all you’re doing.”

  Babs sat up straighter and looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “Of course I would throw a baby shower for my only daughter. I only wish I could find more gold lamé. I found lots of purple and silver at the prom clearance at the Party Store, but I can’t find enough gold to cover the drapery. They did have these adorable shot glasses to go with my theme—have I told you about the theme?”

  Mia shook her head but put out a hand to stop Babs from further disclosure. “I want it to be a surprise,” she said. “Lars and I should be surprised, don’t you think?”

  “Lars?” Babs said. Her eyes widened to doe-size. “Did you talk with him?”

  “No, I could only get his voice mail,” Mia said. “But you invited him, right?”

  Babs paused before answering. “Yes, yes, of course. A baby shower without the father of the little one?” She let out a high-pitched laugh. “Unthinkable. Of course I invited him. Talked with him just last night.” She cleared her throat and jumped up from the table.

  “I’m really so happy,” Mia said. She rubbed a slow circle on her belly. “The baby’s almost here, I’m surrounded by people who’ve supported me, Lars is coming home.” She looked up at Babs, eyes shining. “Everything’s working out.”

  Babs made a funny sound in her throat and then threw her arms around her daughter’s neck. “You’ll be fine,” she said, patting Mia’s back in rapid rhythm. “You’ve always been a smart girl. You’re going to do just fine.”

  Mia pulled away and drew a deep breath. “I’ll be even better when it’s not just me. It will feel so good to be an us, you know?”

  Babs’s mouth pulled into a tight smile and Mia thought her eyes didn’t match the upward motion of her mouth. “Us is almost always better than I,” she said. She spun toward the door, her skirt undulating in a wave of color. “I’m off. See you tomorrow at ten.” She paused at the door and spoke over her shoulder but without meeting Mia’s gaze. “You and Lars, I mean. See you and Lars at ten.”

  Mia watched her shut the door and reflected again on the strange conversational skills of her mother. For a woman whose very job description required her to be social, she was one odd duck. The baby moved in slow motion in Mia’s womb, every day outgrowing the limited real estate. She looked down at the beach-ball-sized bump before her and said, “You won’t be campaigning for gold lamé drapes, right? Even if that gene makes its way to you, please promise me you’ll ignore it.” The baby kicked, hard, into Mia’s ribcage and she laughed through her gasp.

  27

  Breach of Etiquette

  Frankie offered Mia a plate heaped with deviled eggs, fruit salad, a bagel topped with cream cheese and capers, and the coffee cake Adam had brought. “His late mother’s recipe,” Frankie whispered, nodding at the cake. “So even if you hate it, make sure to rave.”

  Mia nodded and took a seat near the window. She inched the chair forward several inches to avoid a collision with a cascade of lamé tumbling from her mother’s curtain rods. Mr. Lamberti, looking unusually sullen, saluted her with his paper coffee cup. A timid girl from Frankie’s library sat next to him, nibbling on a croissant and looking around nervously for Frankie. Mia smiled at her and waved.

  “Thanks for coming, Victoria,” she said.

  The words startled the girl so badly, she sloshed orange juice onto her plate. Mr. Lamberti looked with eagle eyes at the spillage, monitoring if any had made its way to the floor. Victoria, her face an instant crimson, set to blotting the edge of her plate with a palm tree napkin.

  Mia sighed under her breath and turned her attention to Silas, who’d assumed a regal pose on the chair beside her. His plate sat filled to overflowing but untouched on a side table to his right.

  “Thanks for coming, Silas,” Mia said. She leaned over to kiss a weathered, brown cheek.

  “Now, Miss Mia, don’t be getting too familiar.” He cocked his head in mock warning. “What if your mama sees you all fresh and pretty, making the moves on the older gentleman in the group?”

  “Shh,” Mia said. She ducked her head slightly and whispered, “Don’t tip her off. But wait a minute—since when does she have proprietary rights on you?”

  Silas shrugged, both palms up. “I’m just saying. Your mother does have jealous tendencies.” He dug a purple plastic fork into fruit salad.

  Mia took a sip of mimosa, which her mother had publicized was made with nonalcoholic champagne in the interest of the child-bearing among them. Babs had outdone herself in her choice of décor. In addition to the sparkly window treatments, there was black and purple confetti strewn about the food table, black and purple streamers twisted into wild configurations around every linear surface and an impressively large mylar banner hanging above the couch that read Welcome to Paradise, North High Revelers. Her mother had blacked out the words North High with a Sharpie, filling the spaces with nearly symmetrical stars. Emerging from the kitchen in a turquoise and orange strapless sundress, Babs approached Mia with a wide smile.

  “Hi, honey,” she said, leaning down to kiss Mia on the top of her head and draping a plastic lei around her neck. “Welcome to paradise. I’m glad you filled your plate.” She took inventory of the food before Mia and nodded in approval. “That bagel would be much better with lox but I know how you are about real protein. Frankie wanted to have a tofu breakfast casserole, but I just couldn’t do that kind of thing in good conscience. Not at a party I hosted.” She shivered.

  Mia cleared her throat. “Hi, Mother. Thanks for the shower.” She smiled. “Your place looks lovely.”

  “Very shiny,” Silas added. His eyes wandered the room in careful appraisal. “I’m sure I’ve never seen a blow-up palm tree quite that majestic.”

  Babs’s gaze followed his to the traveling strand of lights pulsing thick fingers over inflated leaves. She sighed happily. “I know. It’s perfect, isn’t it?” She sorted through the stack of leis on her arm and came up with a hot pink one for Silas. Placing it carefully around his neck, she leaned down and pecked him on the lips. “Thanks for coming, love button.”

  “Love button?” Mia asked, her mouth full of the best coffee cake she’d ever tasted. “Did you just call him love button?”

  “Hush,” Babs said. She patted Silas on the shoulder and straightened her already perfect spinal column. “I am your mother
but I’m still entitled to my privacy.” Winking at the man before her, she added, “She’ll get used to the idea, sweetheart. Interracial dating is still rather new to our culture.”

  Mia stared after her as she swayed, hips in full glory, back to the kitchen.

  “She’s a lot of woman for a man of my years,” Silas said, “but I think I can handle her.”

  “Wow.” Mia felt slightly ill at the thought of her mother using the words love button with any man, much less one who felt confidence in his ability to handle her. “I didn’t know you two were seeing each other. Um, forgive me for saying so, Silas, but aren’t you a little older than she is?”

  “Nine years her senior,” Silas said quickly. “Just about right, in my view. She says she prefers a man with the frivolity of youth firmly behind him. My own frivolity chooses to make its appearance judiciously.” He chuckled, then placed a warm hand over hers. His eyes leaped with feisty contentment. “We never know how God’s going to ease the burden, do we? Your mother has a big heart, Mia. And many talents.” His eyes widened and Mia became very nervous that Babs’s stand on abstinence outside of marriage did not extend to men with their youth firmly behind them. “Did you know she can name all the parts of a ship, bow to stern?”

  Mia had no chance to answer before Silas continued.

  “She can twirl a baton! And the woman is fierce with a hot glue gun, I’ll tell you.” He shook his head in wonderment. “The things she can make with yarn and birdseed …”

  Mia felt her heart surge with gratitude to see Adam approaching.

  “Hi,” he said and sat down in an empty seat beside her. He looked past Mia and grinned. “Hey, Silas. How’s it going?”

  “Very well, Adam, very well. Good to see you, young man. Your dad coming?”

  Adam shook his head. “I’m afraid not. He had an emergency consistory meeting at his church. Something about a communion wine theft.”

  Silas shook his head and tsked his empathy. “Part of the reason we went to grape juice a few years back. Lowers the liability.”

  Adam turned to Mia. “You look pretty.”

  She cleared her throat and turned to the tiny wedge of coffee cake left on her plate. “That cake was amazing. Did you make it?”

  “Try not to act so shocked.” Adam rolled his eyes. “Honestly, what does a guy have to do these days to get some respect in the kitchen?”

  “Not much, in my opinion,” Mia said. “I’d be happy with cold cereal and a cup of tea. But this cake puts you safely into rock star territory.”

  “Thanks,” Adam mumbled. “My mom used to make it. She would have liked you.” The confession made him shift in his chair, seeming to regret the disclosure as soon as he made it. His voice louder, he asked, “Where’s Lars? Frankie said he’d be here.”

  Mia glanced at the clock on her mom’s bookshelf and was surprised it was already half past the hour. “I’m sure he’s on his way. He’s probably just running late.” She dipped her hand into her purse to retrieve her cell phone. No new messages pulled up and she dropped it back into her bag. “He didn’t call, so he must be close.” She pulled her hair into a ponytail and let the whole mass of curls drop again.

  “It’s warm, isn’t it?” Adam rose from his chair. “I’ll open a window.”

  She watched him and tried to shake off the wooden, heavy feeling that was making progress in her chest. He’ll be here, she assured her rattled nerves. You are far too jumpy. Just relax and enjoy the party.

  Frankie came to the center of the living room and welcomed the small group of friends. Assured by Mia that they needn’t wait to begin, she initiated a game that required players to match up baby photos with famous people, local celebrities, and those in attendance at Mia’s shower. They laughed when Silas pretended his photo was one of a curly-headed blond boy.

  “What’s the problem?” Silas asked, his mouth twitching to stay in a straight line. “As an adult I simply tan easily.”

  Mia laughed with the others and caught herself glancing at Babs’s front door. After checking her phone again for messages and finding none, she stood from her chair and caught Babs’s eye. “I’m going to call Lars,” she said quietly while the others marveled at Adam’s conehead in his hospital baby photo. “Maybe something’s wrong.”

  “Wait,” Babs said, her hand on Mia’s forearm. “What about the gifts? Don’t you want to open those first?” She started worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

  “No,” Mia said, drawing out the word and peering into her mother’s face. “Why wouldn’t I just call him to make sure he’s all right?”

  “No reason,” Babs said, revealing in the avoidance of her eyes some unknown but very good reason.

  “Mother, what’s going on?” Mia’s whisper had turned to a hiss. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “He’s not coming.” The words blurted out of Babs’s mouth at full volume. “I told him not to.” She flinched.

  “What? Why?” Mia’s mind raced, her thoughts trying to grab onto the image of Lars, not in the room with her and ready to start their new life, laughing over baby photos and eating coffee cake, but in Seattle, far, far away.

  “I called to invite him to the shower.” Babs looked panicked. “He didn’t know if he could make it, and I told him he really should try harder, which led, somehow to an argument. He insulted you, Mia,” she said, eyes pleading. “He said you were doing fine without him and that you didn’t know what you wanted.”

  “But this is not a conversation you are supposed to have.” Mia spoke through gritted teeth. “This is none of your business, Mother. It has never been any of your business.”

  “I certainly disagree with that,” Babs said, making no effort to lower her voice. “You won’t understand this for a few more weeks, but once you’re someone’s mother, you can’t abdicate. There’s no turning back, no matter how screwed up each of you becomes.”

  “Screwed up, huh?” Mia said, eyes flashing. “Yep, I suppose I am a screwup. Learned from the best.”

  “That’s my whole point,” Babs said, following Mia as she moved to pick up her purse. “I see all these warning signs, all these red flags that you’re headed down a path that will give a whole lot of mediocrity to your life.… You’re settling, Mia, and I can’t just stand by and watch you do it.”

  Tears made hot paths down Mia’s cheeks. She whirled around to face her mother. “Today was supposed to be—I’m running out of—” She closed her eyes to the stares of those in the room.

  “Do you know what the sermon was about this Sunday?” Babs’s voice was quiet and measured. “Pastor Jenkins talked about how perfect love casts out fear. Mimi, you’re waiting for him because you’re scared. But real love casts fear out of the picture.”

  Silas shifted noisily in his seat.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mia said. She clutched her bag to her chest and froze inside the silent circle of friends surrounding her. Mia glanced at Adam, who sat with his head in his hands, and Frankie, who was swaying lightly side to side, as if trying to comfort a babe in arms. “I’m sorry, everybody. I can’t do this anymore.” She shook her head, tears falling on the hands she’d clasped around her purse. Feeling a sudden and heavy weight in her belly, she turned to the door and walked out, leaving a room of awkward stillness in her wake.

  28

  Gloves Off

  Saturday, September 22. 11:30 a.m.

  To: denytheman@earthmark.com

  From: miamiabobia@chicagonet.com

  Subject: Sorry

  Please call. I heard about the tiff you had with Mother. She was out of line. We need to talk.

  mia

  Saturday, September 22. 2:30 p.m.

  To: denytheman@earthmark.com

  From: miamiabobia@chicagonet.com

&nbs
p; Subject: Waiting by the phone

  I’ve left two voice messages and have texted you three times this hour. Please call. I’m starting to feel like a knocked-up stalker.

  mia

  Saturday, September 22. 3:30 p.m.

  To: denytheman@earthmark.com

  From: miamiabobia@chicagonet.com

  Subject: Starting to scare me

  I can’t exactly fly to you at 38 weeks of pregnancy. Believe me, I’d consider it.

  CALL ME PLEASE. AS SOON AS YOU CAN.

  m

  Mia had drifted into a restless nap when her cell phone vibrated under the couch pillow. Two rings in she was awake but befuddled, wondering how all four of her limbs could be asleep and confused by the light streaming through the windows. Third ring and she jumped, fumbling to answer the phone before it went to voice mail.

  “Hello?” she said, breathless. “Lars?”

  “Oh, thank God.” Frankie’s voice broke even in the short expanse of those three words. “I was starting to think you’d moved into a van down by the river. Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” Relief gave way quickly to righteous anger.

  “Sorry,” Mia said. She succumbed to a loud yawn. “I couldn’t talk to anyone for awhile. Adam tried calling, you did, my mother did.… No offense, Frank. I’m just worn out emotionally. Not exactly the kind of baby shower one sees photographed in Martha Stewart Living.”

  “Are you referring to the paradise prom theme or the only slightly more noticeable but intriguing mother-daughter spat we all witnessed over our Costco quiche?”

  Mia groaned. “I’m fully awake now. And I’m realizing I still haven’t talked with Lars. Can I call you back?” She tried running her fingers through the train wreck of curls at her scalp but got no more than a few inches in.

  “Sure. But Mia, if I may.” Frankie cleared her throat. “You know I love you no matter what, right?”