by Gail Haris
The closed-lipped smile Maggie offers and her stiff walk toward the circle indicate she was very content being alienated. Of course, the remaining seat is directly across from me.
Zuri smiles at Maggie. “Want to tell us about yourself?”
“Sure.” Maggie is now speaking in her professional voice. “I’m Maggie Tyson. I’m from Columbus, Ohio, I’m in the pre-pharmacy program, majoring in Biology. I’m president of my sorority, and I hope I might make some new friends tonight.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No. I’m an only child, which is why I love being a part of my sorority. Now I have lots of sisters.”
“That’s wonderful. Did you enjoy being an only child growing up? I’m an only child, myself, and it was great because I had all of my parents’ love and devotion, but sometimes, it could be lonely.”
“I definitely have all my parents’ attention. Sometimes more than I can handle.” Maggie fidgets in her seat. Zuri tilts her head and indicates for Maggie to continue.
“What do you mean, Maggie? It’s okay.”
“It’s just that, no matter how much I accomplish, my parents sometimes expect more. I made the University cheer squad. Do you know how much stress, dedication, and hard work that took? But—my mother was the captain when she was in school. I didn’t get captain, but I made the cut. It’s like they didn’t care. I mean—ha—of course my parents care. I’m just being petty. I’m going to get a drink, anyone need anything?”
I watch as Maggie fidgets, her eyes looking everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Clearing my throat, I say, “It’s like your accomplishments aren’t even achievements. I was a cheerleader but not the head one, like my mother. I won several big pageants, but my mother had been Miss Teen Missouri.” I look down at my stomach and back up to Maggie. “I don’t think I’ll be competing now with a baby on the way. My parents always seemed prouder of my face and what title I could hold. When I graduated, a year early from high school, everyone bragged about me and congratulated me, except the two people I really wanted to hear it from the most.”
Meeting Maggie’s eyes, I try to convey that I get it. Being an only child has its perks, but it also can be isolating. You don’t have a sibling to share your burdens or joys with. A moment passes between us, and then I notice all the other eyes on me. My hands fall to my stomach, and I’m reminded of my current strained relationship with my parents. Zuri nods for me to continue speaking.
“But I found comfort in my best friend and his family. His mom is an incredible woman, and I hope to, someday, be a mother like her. Unfortunately, my best friend passed away earlier this year, and it…changed something inside of me.” My voice begins to shake, and I try to swallow the emotions building inside of me, trying to spill out. “The night that changed my life is the night I buried my best friend and got pregnant with his older brother’s baby.” I hear a few gasps, and Zuri shushes a girl beside her. “My parents want to force me to marry the father, but I refuse to marry him for that reason alone. I’ll raise this baby alone if I have to.”
Maggie stiffens and fists her hands. “Being with someone just because they get you pregnant isn’t always the best decision. My parents are proof of that.” She turns to Zuri, who nods for her to continue. “They both resent me. I mean, they’d never admit it, but I see it when they look at me. Most parents take photos of every moment of their child’s life. There’s only professional photos of me—the ones to be displayed. There’s no photos of me on their camera roll. Little things like that. I spent my summers at camps. During the rest of the year, I was placed in so many activities while growing up, I was hardly ever home. My aunt took me to most of them. Or a hired nanny, until I was old enough to drive. My parents showed up for the main events, of course. They made a grand display of sitting together—but as soon as it was over, we went home and to our separate rooms. They’d never get a divorce, even though I think it would be for the best. They’ve fought all my life, and I know they’re both having affairs.” Her voice breaks. “My dad and best friend are sleeping together. They think I don’t know. My mother slept with my tennis coach, but they’re over each other. She made a pass at my last boyfriend before we broke up. I was humiliated.”
Trent? My mom thinks he’s gorgeous, but I don’t think even she would hit on him.
“It’s stupid.” Maggie dabs at her eyes. “Isn’t an affair a bigger scandal than a divorce? Anyway, I know what it’s like to walk on eggshells and not feel good enough. I have to appear like this perfect daughter to make up for their not-so-perfect marriage.”
“Well, at least you’re not an embarrassment. I guess it’s a good thing I did graduate early, so I didn’t embarrass my parents further.”
Zuri begins to speak, but Maggie’s voice cuts her off. “Any parent who isn’t proud to have such an intelligent and beautiful daughter should be embarrassed. And I can already tell you’re going to be a better mother than both of ours.”
This whole time, I thought Maggie had the perfect life. She seemed so put together, but she’s more broken than I am. With her guard down, I can see the anguish in her eyes. The voice I’ve mocked her for is a shield, used to mask how in pain she is. She’s as insecure as I am, maybe even more. I don’t doubt my parents love for me, I just know I’ve disappointed them. My mother places more emphasis on my appearance, yes, but I know she doesn’t resent me. I’ve never once doubted their love for me. Now, she’s lost Trent as well.
A week later, Alice has a study session, so I’m going to the group meeting alone. I notice the food table is full, but it’s not Maggie next to it. Instead, there’s a sweet elderly woman arranging plates, and Maggie is sitting in in the circle next to Zuri. The chairs in the circle begin to fill up, and as a girl starts to take the seat next to Maggie, she stops her. Maggie holds her hand out over the chair. Her eyes turn to mine, and she nods toward it.
“Glad you could make it,” Maggie says, in a bored tone. Normally, this tone would upset me. It would set me off and I’d think she’s looking down on me. Today, it doesn’t because I recognize it as her guard she’s putting up, wanting to act like this is no big deal, when we both know it is.
“Thanks. And thanks for saving me a seat.”
Two days later, I find myself climbing the enormous staircase in Maggie’s sorority house. Alice told me which room was hers, so when I come to the white door with a giant glittery M, I knock.
“Come in.”
“Hey.” I peek my head in.
Maggie’s eyes widen, and she stands up from her fluffy bed. She’s wearing a black tank top and black leggings. This is the most casually dressed I’ve ever seen her. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you, too.” I enter the room and shut the door behind me. I open my bag and take out the box of macaroons. “Trent told me you like these.”
“Thank you.”
“I wanted to come and talk. I know we’ve never been friends, but I feel like we’ve misunderstood each other.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m a woman…I know what that means. You’re not fine.”
She sits on her bed and then nods for me to join her. Opening the case of macaroons, she offers me one. After I shake my head and she gets one for herself, she speaks, “You know I’ve never told anyone that I feel that way about my parents. In fact, I make sure to pretend I have the perfect life.”
“Maggie, you should tell your parents.”
“No. I don’t want to talk to them or anyone else. I enjoy our group because nobody, well, except you, knows me. It’s like a little private world where for a little while, there are no preconceived notions or expectations.” I agree completely. Then Maggie whispers, “Rachel…you should have told him. You should’ve told him immediately.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I know. But when you said Landon…” Tears fill my eyes. “I’m sorry that I slept with Trent when you two were on a break. I knew you guys were off and on. That’s one of the reasons I can’t
believe he wants to be with me.”
Maggie bites her bottom lip and studies me for a minute before saying, “I’m sorry for what I did and said in the elevator. I just snapped. I’m so ashamed that I lost my temper, and I took everything out on you that day and went too far. I wasn’t really angry at you—I was irritated that my stupid perfect life was spiraling out of control. I have to be in control, but we don’t always have control in life, do we? That’s why I volunteered to be at the group therapy. I knew I needed help, but that way, it looked like I had to be there for charity. The stress of school, home, and now losing Trent. The Randall family is the family I’ve always longed to have, and to be a part of it was one of the best things to ever happen to me. I was instantly jealous of you when I met you.”
“Me?”
“You’ve always been a part of them. Melissa adores you, and even if Trent and I had worked out, I could never compete with you. You have history with them. I wanted that. I wanted them to love and talk about me like they do you.”
“They think the world of you, too.”
She shakes her head. “They’re such a warm and comforting group of people. They welcome you in and shower you with so much love. I don’t love Trent. I care about him deeply, but I fell in love with the idea of him. Trent wants to instantly take on all your problems and shelter you from the world. He was more like the big brother I never had.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “That sounds so weird that I wanted to date him for the big brother aspect. I’m more screwed up than I thought.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “No. I get it. He is such a positive light that comes into your life. The whole family is. I can be a sister for you.”
“Why? I was such a bitch to you. I tried to break you and Trent up.”
“Yes. You were a bitch and probably still are. And even if you still try to break us up, it won’t happen.”
“I don’t understand. Are these macaroons poisoned?”
I chuckle at her staring at the half-eaten macaroon in her hand. “I will still be here for you, despite it all. I know what it feels like to be with a group of people but still feel alone. We kind of bonded over the therapy group.”
She gives me a small smile. “We really didn’t, but I appreciate you, nonetheless.”
As I stand up to leave, Maggie whispers, “I was wrong before. You’re better than me, Rachel.”
“No one person is better than another.” I open the door, and as I turn to leave, I smile at her and say, “But I appreciate that nonetheless.”
“We still haven’t decided on a name for our dragon,” Trent says, behind his black sunglasses, while driving down the interstate that leads back home. I roll my eyes at the way he constantly refers to our baby as a dragon, but then smile, wondering what other people might think if they heard him. “What if we do something with dragon? Ragon? Drag? Dragouel? Dra? Gon? Agon?” I stare at him. My biggest fear is that he might actually be serious about these horrid names. He smiles and then asks. “What about Lance for a middle name? After Landon.”
My heart swells at the thought. “Yes. I really like that.”
Trent nods. “Okay, so we have the middle and last name figured out.”
I pause and tap my index finger on my chin. “Last name?”
“Randall?”
“And who said he’d take your last name?”
“Well, if you were still going with the ruse that Landon was the father, would the baby have taken his last name? It’s the same as mine, anyway.”
He’s got me there. “This is the twenty-first century. The baby can have the mother’s name. He won’t be shunned for carrying my name. Besides, why would he have either of y’alls name? We’re not married.”
“Do you want to be?”
I wasn’t expecting that response. “Even if I was married. Like I said, I could keep my last name and still pass it on to our child.”
He speaks slow and evenly, “Okay…so you’re saying you want him to have your last name?”
I scoff and wave my hand at him. “No, of course not. His last name will be Randall. Just don’t assume things.”
He releases a low chuckle. “I don’t even know what all that was, but alright.”
We pull into the Randall’s large circle driveway. No matter how many times over the years I’ve visited this house, I’m still in awe of its beauty and grace. The large white columns, the elegant stone balconies, and all the long windows make a small part of the charm. I can’t imagine how Alice felt when she first arrived and discovered this was where she was supposed to have grown up.
Trent places his hand on my lower back and leads me toward the front door. We’re all celebrating Thanksgiving together. We find Denise and Melissa in the kitchen. Denise is busy cutting vegetables for a salad while Melissa pulls a pan out of the oven, simultaneously, stirring a pot of gravy on the stove. She turns her head to us and grins. “Hey, you two! We’re almost ready. Trent, will you text Alice to ask her if she’ll be finished in thirty-minutes? If not, we can snack until she arrives.”
Noah is still overseas, and his parents didn’t want to come without him, so they’re remaining at their home. Alice is going to eat with them first and then join us later. I ease farther into the kitchen and offer to help. Melissa has it all under control, of course, but she humors me and allows me to set the table.
My heart breaks for Melissa. She’s had to endure the loss of two children in her lifetime. It’s still weird being in this house without Landon. It seems cruel that, as soon as one child was returned to her, another was taken away, only this time, permanently. As she hurries around the kitchen, taking a quick moment to kiss me and Trent on the cheek, I place a hand to my protruding belly. I already love this baby so much. I can’t imagine Melissa’s heartaches. I respect and admire her so much more now.
“Alice will be here in fifteen minutes,” Trent announces, then goes into the den to visit with his father.
“Perfect timing,” Melissa practically sings out to us. She begins bringing trays of food and placing them on the dining room table. “Rachel, your parents are on their way?”
“I don’t think they’re going to be able to make it.” I follow her back into the kitchen and pick up a platter of corn on the cob, still avoiding the truth about my parents. I carry the platter into the dining room to place on the table. Once my hands are free, I turn around to go grab another dish, but I stop, when I feel the warmth of a hand gently lay flat on my belly.
Melissa smiles and slowly rubs my stomach. “I was hoping to feel him move. Sorry, I should’ve asked first, but I couldn’t stop myself. How’ve you been feeling?”
I offer a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind you touching my belly.” Other people, I would, but she’s like a second mother to me.
A door slams followed by, “Look who I found!” Alice cheers when she steps into the kitchen. She extends her arm out to indicate my parents following behind her. My heart sinks. How? My father’s eyes take in the house. With a wrinkled nose and hands in his pockets, he casually follows behind Alice.
Denise comes bouncing into the dining room. “Finally. I’m starving.”
We all take that as our cue to sit down. I take a seat between Trent and my mother. Both fuss over me to eat more, no matter how much I put on my plate. They seem to take turns, refilling my plate. This is awkward.
While everyone else at the table is speaking, I lean toward my mother. “I’m surprised to see you two here.”
“I don’t know why. Should we not be invited?”
“I thought you disowned me?”
“Shh. How could you think such a thing? I ran into Melissa at the grocery store. Trent is the father, isn’t he?”
My father, who can’t seem to stop growling at Trent, finally speaks, “he decided he wants to take responsibility?” He looks to me while pointing at Trent. “Did he put you up to claiming it was his dead brother’s?” He looks at Trent. “I guess that’s one way to help get over your brothe
r’s death. Sleeping with his girl as a coping mechanism. You must take notes from Richard. Like father, like son.”
My mother hisses, “Quinn. You promised.”
I’m officially mortified. And what the hell did he mean by that? Everyone stops eating and stares.
This isn’t happening. Trent looks to his dad. Richard speaks in a calm voice, “Quinn. You’re welcome in my home and at my table, but you will not speak about my son like that.”
“Quinn,” my mother speaks to my father in a warning tone, “he’s trying and they’re young. We’re here to help anyway we can.” She turns to me with a smile, like her and my father didn’t just insult the entire Randall family and Trent, while sitting in their house on Thanksgiving. “It won’t be much longer now.” My mother beams and gently pats my tummy.
There’s so much tension and awkwardness now, that I want to die. I literally want to crawl into a hole. I meet Melissa’s eyes, and she jerks her head toward the kitchen. I stand and mumble, “excuse me.”
“Do you need anything, Sweetheart?” my mom asks. I shake my head and leave the room.
Melissa walks into the kitchen and wraps her arms around me. “Stop. I see you’re stressing out. You can’t help anything your parents say. You can’t help anything they do. You’re not them. I know you, Rachel. And I know them. Everything is going to be fine. Plus, they’re trying to process the fact that their only baby girl is about to have a baby of her own.”
“Thank you. I’m sor—”
“No, Sweetheart. Don’t apologize for other people.”
Melissa walks over and grabs a pie off the counter. “Take your time and catch your breath. Come out, when you’re ready.”
After a minute, I go back to my seat. Denise appears thoughtful and then asks, “Why don’t you guys have a name yet? Will the baby have the last name Randall, even though you’re not married?”
I should’ve stayed in the kitchen. Trent clears his throat and shoots his sister a glare. “Well, he will have my last name.”