Not Another Family Wedding

by Jackie Lau

  “I remember,” Natalie said. “I remember all of it. I knew something was wrong, and I wanted to give her the affection she needed.”

  “And I was the mother who couldn’t bond with her own baby. I felt so guilty. So overwhelmed by everything I had to do for her.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure many other women feel that way, even if they don’t talk about it.”

  “I know I had postpartum depression. Eventually, your father forced me to see a doctor.” Mom blew her nose. “It was several months before he started to feel affection for Rebecca, and I was annoyed that he did before me, when he was the one who’d wanted me to have an abortion.”

  Natalie still couldn’t get over the idea of her sister never existing, but if she’d never had a sister, she wouldn’t know what she was missing. There were so many directions her life could have taken, but in the end, you only got one shot at it all. It wasn’t a Choose Your Own Adventure book in which you could read a bunch of different stories.

  “Anyway,” Mom said, forcing a smile, “within a year, everything was okay, more or less. But that was the beginning of the end of our marriage.”

  “Yet you stayed married for another twenty-five years. In fact, you’re still legally married.”

  “We both felt so guilty about Rebecca, and we couldn’t bear for her to have divorced parents.”

  “Having divorced parents isn’t the end of the world.”

  “But it was Rebecca.”

  And really, that was enough of an answer. Rebecca, the baby of the family, was special; they all wanted everything to be perfect for her.

  “You gave me hope,” Mom said. “When I saw how much you loved spending time with her, it made me believe that one day, I would feel the same way. One day, everything would be okay. And, Natalie, I’m sorry I wasn’t much of a mother to you then, either. Although you looked after Rebecca, you were still just a child.”

  Natalie nodded, then blurted out, “I had an abortion.” For some reason, she needed her mother to know this, even if Mom would never look at her the same way again. “If I hadn’t terminated it, you would have a three-year-old grandchild.”

  Mom tilted her head and slowly nodded. “You don’t owe me grandchildren. I haven’t bugged you about that lately, have I?”

  That was true. She hadn’t, even if everyone else kept making comments about it.

  “Do you feel guilty about the abortion?” Mom asked.

  “When it was taken care of, I felt so relieved, and I think that’s common. I don’t regret it at all. I never want to have children.”

  Mom nodded again. “I know, honey.”

  “You do? You told me more than once that I’d change my mind when I was older. The first time, I was ten, and I was pissed you didn’t take me seriously. I knew I was old enough to know my own mind.”

  Her mother chuckled. “I remember that. I think I was taken aback by the conviction in your voice at such a young age. But about ten years ago, someone—I can’t remember who—made a comment about babies, and I could tell by the look on your face. You didn’t want one, and you never would. I was a little disappointed, but I was glad you’d figured it out before actually having a child.”

  “Me, too.”

  “The last thing I want is for you to regret having a child. I felt like that for almost a year, and it was awful.” Mom had a sip of coffee. “Come here.”

  Natalie stood up and went to her mother, and Mom embraced her. They were not an affectionate family, except with Rebecca, and it felt a little odd. But in a good way.

  “You’re okay,” Mom said. “Your decisions are okay. I’m proud of you.”

  “Have you been reading too many self-help books?” Natalie joked, but somewhere deep inside, she felt her mother’s words filling up an empty part of her.

  “No. I just know you need to hear those words.”

  * * *

  After leaving Bernard’s, Natalie headed to her grandmother’s house near Chinatown. Her feelings were a confusing mix of things she could not articulate, and she wished Connor was there to put an arm around her.

  Dammit. If only...

  You can have him, a voice inside of her whispered. You can.

  She still didn’t see how that was possible. How could someone like her make a relationship work, even if they agreed on not having kids?

  But despite her melancholy mood, she couldn’t help smiling when Ngin Ngin opened the door.

  “Natalie! You’re the last one here. Come in and meet my friend.” Ngin Ngin put a frail hand on Natalie’s back and ushered her inside.

  Natalie entered the dining room, where Iris and Rebecca were standing around the table. An elderly white woman was perched on one of the chairs.

  “Ngin Ngin, you should have let me get the door,” Iris said.

  “No. My house. I get the door. Everyone knows I walk slow. They can wait.” Ngin Ngin turned to the elderly woman. “Rosetta, this is my oldest granddaughter, Natalie. Now you have met all granddaughters. Grandson is in Vancouver.” She turned back to Natalie. “Rosetta is spring chicken!”

  Natalie looked at her cousin and sister with raised eyebrows.

  “Did I get that wrong?” Ngin Ngin asked. “It’s a new phrase I learned yesterday.”

  “‘Spring chicken’ means a young person,” Iris said.

  Ngin Ngin nodded. “Exactly. Rosetta is spring chicken. Only eighty-one years old!”

  Rosetta laughed. “Only you would say that.”

  “We met at the community center,” Ngin Ngin said. “We go there to practice English. Rosetta is like me, except she comes from Italy. Spent life looking after husband and children, no time to learn proper English. So now we’re old, we have time. Nobody comes to visit me.”

  “What?” Iris said. “I visit you every weekend and cut your grass.”

  “If you weren’t a drug addict, you’d have more time for me.”

  “For the last time, I am not a drug addict!”

  Ngin Ngin grinned her toothy grin. “I know. I tease.”

  Rebecca turned to Natalie. “We’re having minestrone soup and tortellini for lunch.”

  “Rosetta helped me make tortellini,” Ngin Ngin said. “Monday, I will teach her to make doong. Rebecca, you like to come? I can teach you, too.”

  “What about me?” Iris asked.

  Ngin Ngin shook her head. “Won’t let you in my kitchen again. Last time, you screwed up rice. How you managed, I don’t know. There was a rice cooker! And Natalie will be back in Ottawa on Monday.”

  “Okay, I’ll come,” Rebecca said.

  Rosetta stood up. “I should go now. I have plans with my son.”

  She hobbled to the door, and a few minutes later, Natalie, Rebecca, Iris, and Ngin Ngin were sitting at the table with bowls of minestrone. It was very different from the food Ngin Ngin usually cooked, but just as delicious.

  “We made a big pot,” Ngin Ngin said. “I will send leftovers home with Iris, since you cannot cook, and Rebecca, since you need lots of time to make a baby.”

  “Ngin Ngin!” Rebecca said.

  “What? I want a great-grandchild. But am no spring chicken. Don’t have all the time in the world.”

  “At Rebecca’s wedding,” Iris said, “you claimed you were as healthy as an ox and would live for a long time.”

  “Yes, that’s what I hope. But you never know. Many things could happen. I will teach Rebecca to make doong so at least someone can make them when I’m gone.”

  Rebecca reached across the table and squeezed her grandmother’s hand.

  “I thought I would have great-grandchildren by now,” Ngin Ngin said, “since Natalie is already way past thirty. Natalie, why don’t you have children?”

  Natalie didn’t feel up to this. After the conversation with her sister last night, then her mother this morning, she’d prefer to talk about movies or TV or something like that. But she would be perfectly honest.

  “Is the problem that you cannot find a man
?” Ngin Ngin asked. “Why is that so hard? You very picky?”

  “I don’t want children,” Natalie said. “Not everyone wants children. I don’t need to have them.”

  Ngin Ngin frowned. “But you like babies, no?”

  Natalie nodded. “I just don’t want any of my own.”

  God, she’d been explaining herself over and over lately.

  Ngin Ngin used her Chinese soup spoon to scoop up some minestrone. “In my day, everyone was expected to have kids, but now...I guess you have big important job. Don’t understand it, but I think it is important? You trying to save the world?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Do you really think we’ll be able to?” Iris asked.

  Natalie opened her mouth to respond, but Rebecca beat her to it.

  “If Natalie was totally pessimistic,” Rebecca said, “she wouldn’t bother. She wouldn’t take trains everywhere. She wouldn’t eat meat only two or three times a week and live in a small condo so it takes less energy to heat.”

  “What is this word ‘pessimistic’?” Ngin Ngin asked.

  “It means you think the worst will happen,” Natalie replied. Anthony had called her that, and it was a word she often used to describe herself, but Rebecca was right: Natalie did possess a shred of hope that humankind could figure out its problems, otherwise she wouldn’t do many of the things she did.

  “Is this why you don’t want children? You think you would be a terrible mother?”

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I actually think I’d be a decent mother, but I wouldn’t be a great mother because I never wanted kids in the first place. I would resent them.”

  They were quiet for a minute.

  “I guess I understand,” Ngin Ngin said at last. “It’s okay, Natalie. Rebecca will make the babies. Simon called yesterday to say they will adopt a baby, too, or maybe it will be a small child, not baby anymore. I wish they lived in Toronto. Then I would visit all the time and drive them crazy. Lots of fun. Make them tortellini, too.” She grinned. “I should get it now.” She started to stand up.

  “No.” Iris jumped up. “Let me do it.”

  “I said before, I do not trust you in my kitchen.”

  “It’s just dishing out food! That’s not hard.”

  “Fine, fine. You better not screw up. Get chopsticks for everyone.”

  Iris headed to the kitchen.

  “There are some people who don’t have kids,” Ngin Ngin said. “Like your uncle. Dennis, I think? The one kicked out of Seth and Simon’s wedding?”

  Natalie couldn’t say she enjoyed being compared to Uncle Dennis.

  “Except Uncle Dennis is a terrible person,” Rebecca said, “and Natalie is not.” She patted Natalie’s hand. “There are lots of decent and caring people, not just our bigoted uncle, who choose not to have kids.”

  Natalie froze, her spoon halfway to her mouth.

  Rebecca had stated such an obvious fact, and yet it was something Natalie had really needed to hear, especially from someone who meant a lot to her. Although she’d long been confident in her decision not to reproduce, she realized now that she’d still judged herself for that decision and felt less worthy because of it.

  Including less worthy of love.

  She’d internalized some of those judgments about child-free people being awful and selfish, which was easy to do because the person in her family who didn’t have children was not the greatest human being. And dealing with this was probably more difficult for her than it was for Connor, since women were expected to have maternal instincts. People had certain expectations of women that they didn’t have of men, at least not to the same degree.

  So, despite her confidence in her decision, she’d still felt like a lesser person. But all of that had been buried deep within her. She hadn’t realized that she’d believed so much bullshit until now.

  You deserve it, Rebecca had said yesterday.

  Her little sister was smart.

  You’re okay. I’m proud of you, Mom had said.

  Natalie needed to listen to the women in her family. What she’d thought was too good to be true might actually be within her grasp.

  She had to stop thinking Connor was too good for her. Yes, he was a good person, but so was she, and if he wanted to be with her, she could be with him.

  She’d assumed their relationship was doomed because of all her unsuccessful relationships in the past twenty years, but that just meant she hadn’t found the right guy. It only took one. Plus, many of those men had been assholes, and that did not describe Connor Douglas, not at all—she wouldn’t have remained friends with him for so long if that were the case. And unlike the men she’d dated before, he wanted the same thing as her.

  Connor was special, and she now believed they could make it work, believed this could truly be different. She didn’t need to be held back by her past, or what had happened to her parents—she was her own person. Besides, there were many happy long-term relationships, including in her own family; she’d been focusing only on the negative.

  Connor loved her...and she loved him. Yes, that was a recent development, but they’d known each other for many years. He knew exactly who she was, and despite that, he loved her. Because of that, he loved her.

  They could be together after all.

  Iris returned to the dining room with two plates of tortellini, which she set in front of Ngin Ngin and Natalie. Natalie picked up her chopsticks with shaking hands and popped a piece of tortellini in her mouth. “This is tasty.”

  “Lots of work to make it,” Ngin Ngin said. “Do not expect tortellini every time you visit.”

  “All of your cooking is good, Ngin Ngin.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re so humble,” Iris said, returning to the kitchen.

  “I know this word,” Ngin Ngin said. “I do not see the point in being humble anymore. I am awesome!”

  Natalie laughed.

  “What about me?” Iris asked as she brought out the last two plates of pasta.

  “You’re awesome, too. You put up with me for the drive to Mosquito Bay, and for two nights at bed and breakfast. But you are not awesome in the kitchen.”

  “And I have a drug problem.”

  “I told you that was a joke!” Ngin Ngin turned to Natalie. “I will not tease you about babies anymore, but what about boyfriends? I can tease you about boyfriends?”

  “You should tease her about Connor.” Rebecca winked at Natalie.

  “Very confused about Connor,” Ngin Ngin said, picking up a piece of tortellini with her chopsticks. “I thought he was your boyfriend, then you said he was just a friend, then you stayed overnight in his room at bed and breakfast. Cannot keep track. What happened now?”

  “He asked me out, and I turned him down.”

  “You don’t want a baby, and you don’t want a man, either? You like women instead?”

  “I like men,” Natalie said. “I like Connor...a lot. But I screwed up.”

  “Aiyah!” Ngin Ngin said. “Silly girl.”

  “I know. I’ll fix it. Actually....” Natalie took out her phone and flipped to the Toronto-Ottawa train schedule. There was a train in a couple of hours.

  Yes. She would go back tonight.

  Actually, now she remembered that Connor was looking after Ariana this weekend, and she was supposed to help him. But she’d forgotten, and he hadn’t reminded her. Maybe he’d decided he would rather not see her after she’d broken his heart last weekend.

  Well, she would see him tonight and make things right.

  Natalie started eating her tortellini in a hurry. “Rebecca, we need to go back to your place as soon as we finish here,” she said between bites. “I’ll get my suitcase and head straight to Union Station.”

  “Ah,” Ngin Ngin said. “I understand. You are making big romantic gesture, like in movies! What will be your gesture?”

  “I don’t know,” Natalie said, feeling frustrated. “Isn’t it enough that I show up?
”

  “Men like when you cook for them. Unless you’re Iris. I don’t think even hungry man would like Iris’s cooking.”

  “Ngin Ngin!” Iris said. “It’s really not that bad. Last week I made...well, let’s not talk about that. But at least I know how to boil water!”

  Ngin Ngin frowned. “There are women who cannot boil water? Really? That is sad. Even men should know how to boil water.”

  Rebecca squeezed Natalie’s arm. “You have a long train ride to think about what you’ll do when you see Connor. But you’re right. The most important thing is that you’re there. We’ll leave in five minutes.”

  Ngin Ngin got up and shuffled to the kitchen. “I will get you dessert. Rosetta brought cannoli from the bakery near her house. You eat some now, then you bring some to your man, yes?” She came back with a small empty container and a larger container full of cannoli. Natalie reached for a cannoli and crammed it into her mouth. Normally, she’d eat it slowly and savor it, but now she could only think of Connor.

  She remembered dancing together by the water in Mosquito Bay. Their first kiss. Meeting him for the first time, so many years ago. So many, many years before she figured out what he could mean to her.

  But she didn’t think of it as wasted time. She saw everything that had happened in the intervening years as necessary to get them to this point.

  Maybe she could have accepted his feelings for her a week earlier if she hadn’t run into Anthony pushing a stroller, if her own feelings of unworthiness hadn’t been brought to the surface, but at least she’d figured it out eventually.

  Ngin Ngin started filling the empty container with cannoli. “Need to find a man for Iris. Rosetta has a grandson. Maybe we set you up?”