Trouble Me

by Beck Anderson

  “I think you’re spelling July.” Andrew sits with his arm around me. I snuggle into his warmth. The wind comes and goes, but the air cools at our ankles. I shiver at the conflicting sensation of warm and cool, the fire and the wind.

  “Yes! You’re good at this.” Beau lets the sparkler go out.

  Andrew motions to the big wrapped box of fireworks. “Why don’t you and your brother get the main-attraction fireworks out?”

  Hunter hears this and leaps up. He bounds like a puppy to the box. He and Beau drag it away from the circle of the bonfire, begin to tear the plastic off of it.

  “Oh, boy. I may go back to the house. This part is all about you menfolk and your evolutionary obsessions.”

  I make a move to see if I can get up.

  “Wait.” Andrew pats my knee. He turns in his spot, faces me.

  “What?”

  He reaches in his pocket for something. “Before we blow ourselves up, I just wanted to give you this.”

  He pulls out the twist tie from the hot dog bun package. It’s twisted in the shape of a ring. “Kelly Reynolds, will you marry me?”

  I laugh and hold out my hand. “Where’s the Eye of the Tiger?”

  “I’ve arrived at a brilliant idea. I’m going to propose multiple times—so many times you can’t stand it. And you won’t be able to tell which is the official, last ‘real’ proposal. It’s a perfect fake-out.”

  “And you’re doing it this way because?”

  “Because I kind of ruined the element of surprise the other day, and I feel bad about it.” He holds out the twist tie. “Will you marry me?”

  “Am I supposed to say no until I like the proposal or say yes all the time?” I fold my arms across my chest, give him a little grief.

  “I hadn’t thought that part through, to be honest.”

  “Well, this time, I’m saying yes. But don’t count on it each time. You must woo and wow me with your novel approaches. You should remain on your toes.”

  “I can do that. But you have to say yes more emphatically than that.”

  “Okay. Yes, Andrew Pettigrew, I will be your wife.” I hold my left hand out with a flourish.

  He slides the twist tie on it. “Excellent. Oh, and you have to wear whatever ring it is until I give you the next version. That’s a rule, too.”

  I shake my head. “You’re crazy, but I’ll do it.”

  “You love it.”

  “I love you.”

  He stands and helps me get up. “And I love you. Now go inside so we can blow stuff up.” He kisses me, wraps the blanket around me for better walking, and gives me a playful pat on the butt to start me up the beach to the house.

  4: How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria

  “I THINK IT MIGHT BE BEST to tell my mom in person.” Andrew says this as he crunches on an apple in the Red Carpet Lounge of the Portland airport. It’s the second week of July, we’re headed to New York for rehearsals on Andrew’s new movie, and he drops this bombshell on me.

  “What?” I think I just choked on my ginger ale.

  “My mom. Telling my mom. I think we better tell her in person.”

  “Are we doing that already? I didn’t tell my folks about the boys until we were out of the first trimester.”

  “If she hears from a tabloid, I’m dead. She’ll send my dad out to LA to kill me. Or hire a mafia hit squad.”

  “She’s not like that.”

  “You’ve never met her in person. Talking to her on the phone does not count. My mom is…” He sighs, takes another bite of his apple. “Complicated.”

  “You hardly say anything about her. Your sisters are nice. You’re mostly well-adjusted. Your dad’s still married to her. She has to be at least somewhat normal.”

  “Look, let’s you and I hash out a way to go see her.”

  “What, you mean now? Go see her now?”

  “The boys are flying to see your folks. We’ve got a couple days before I absolutely have to be in New York. We could change our flights right now…”

  Which is how I ended up driving a rented Prius through the Pennsylvania green farmland on this Thursday night. It’s hot, sticky, and the bugs are yelling from the jungle-thick brush that lines the road. The sky is inky black, and the air smells like rain.

  I’m driving so Andrew can get a hold of his folks. He tries to text his mom again.

  “She has a smartphone. This is ridiculous.”

  “She wants you to call her. She won’t text you. You’re supposed to call and tell her we’re here. Or she’s very pissed about the late notice and is punishing you.”

  Andrew sighs and tosses the phone on the console in front of him. “It’s probably all of that. Dad was fine with it.”

  “Your dad is a guy. Guys don’t realize what kind of cleaning is involved in house guests. You have created a huge trauma for her.”

  “You mean we.” He points a finger at me, then at him. “We’re in this together.”

  “Yes, and I want to thank you again for that. She’s going to flip out when she finds out we’re having a baby. But first, she’s just going to be plain mad about the inconvenience.”

  “I offered for us to stay in a hotel.”

  “No mom is going to tell you to stay at a hotel. Even if it would be easier.”

  “Hey, you just missed the turn.”

  “Hey, I’ve never been to your house before. Geez, Andrew!” I slow the car down, look for a wider spot in the road, whip a U-turn, and make a wild left into the development.

  I drive through the neat, colonial-style subdivision. The houses all look vaguely the same: brick and white wood trim, shake roofs, everything very orderly. The macadam road gently winds its way through tall pine trees. I can’t help but feel like these roads could be the same ones Peter and I drove when we were first married.

  I’ll admit it; the East Coast makes me break out in a cold sweat. Okay, I love New York. It’s just the rest of the eastern seaboard I hate. My time in Virginia has Peter’s fingerprints all over it, and it brings back too much from my “other” life. It was the beginning of a tough road, but I didn’t know it then.

  Plus, the girls I knew here in college were all about pearls and flats and matching handbags and no white after Labor Day. I don’t wear white, ever. It shows stains. I don’t like pearls. I fit better other places. I’m more messy snow and dirt trails and running clothes.

  “Are you listening?” Andrew pokes me.

  “What?”

  “Next house on the left. Casa Pettigrew.”

  I slow the car. “The beige one?”

  “That’s the one. There’s Dad.” Andrew sits up, carries his shoulders a little straighter.

  Ugh, parents. How nerve-racking can they be? Peter’s were very polite, and they also lived in upstate New York, which helped. Good fences make good neighbors; multiple-state buffers make good in-laws.

  And my parents are very sweet. I love them very much, but everything with them takes about twenty minutes longer than it should. Talk about nerve-racking—calling them to tell them I was having a baby? They always put me on speaker, and this time, I got to hear all of their reactions in gory detail when I sprung the news. Mom started crying, and Dad wanted a detailed run-down of the risks since I was, “you know, getting up there in age.” As if I needed a reminder about that. But then Mom called me Bug and got excited about making something special, maybe a quilt, for the baby and then started crying again when she realized it was Andrew’s first time as a dad, and then she started reminiscing about Dad’s reaction when they found out she was pregnant with me. That phone call forced me to lie down with a damp washcloth over my eyes. A rollercoaster of emotion all carried out via cell.

  We park and get out. Andrew strolls to his dad, puts out a hand for a shake.

  We’re huggers, my family. It always makes me sad when a dad doesn’t hug his son. Maybe it’s just me.

  “Kelly, so good to see you again. How was your flight?”

  “Hi,
Hugh. The trip was uneventful, so that’s good.” I get a little hug.

  He looks at Andrew. “Your mom’s so excited to see you. We were really surprised to hear from you, to hear you were coming.”

  I can hear the code in that: What are you doing here? You never call. You never visit.

  “Is she inside?”

  “Of course.” Andrew’s dad says this with a touch of sadness. That’s what it sounds like to me, at least.

  We walk in without the bags, and I resist the urge to stay out at the car and putter. We have to be a team on this announcement, this visit.

  Andrew’s dad opens the front door. A brown and white Papillion comes skidding around the corner and barks in little shrill yaps. Hugh scoops it up. “Hush you, Barnaby.”

  “New dog?” Andrew reaches out to scratch its chin. It nips at him.

  “Your mom was lonely.” He turns and calls to the rest of the house. “Maria! They’re here!”

  Andrew walks past him, strolls into the kitchen at the end of the front hall. “You painted in here. I like it.”

  “We had to take out that magnolia in the backyard too. It was rotten in the roots.”

  “Huh. I liked that tree.” Andrew sifts through the mail on the table. There’s a weird disconnect. He’s at ease here, like he’s just come in to grab a glass of milk out of the fridge, but the conversation with Hugh bumps and stalls like an old car smoking and sputtering down the road.

  “Andrew!” Maria comes into the kitchen with her arms out.

  “Hi, Mom.” He comes to her, hugs her for a good long squeeze.

  I’ve never actually laid eyes on her. Hugh’s been out to LA for some special occasions since Andrew and I started seeing each other, but Maria has never flown on a plane. Ever. I’ve yet to get the story on that.

  Maria has a red cable sweater over her petite frame, with pearls at the neck and khaki slacks. Her dark hair is bobbed neatly below the ears. She wears patent navy flats.

  From what Andrew has said, she doesn’t go out much. She doesn’t like to drive. She goes to the grocery store and church and the country club—that’s about it. But looking at her, you’d think we were headed to dinner downtown, even though it’s more like bedtime.

  “You must be Kelly.” She clasps my free hand with both of hers, gives it a gentle shake. Not a hugger either, I guess.

  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Mrs. Pettigrew.” I feel like a last-name basis goes with a shake over a hug.

  “Please, it’s Maria. Would you like a glass of water?”

  She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for me, and I sit. I am the obedient, gracious girl who just got knocked up by her son. This is going to be painful.

  “That’d be great. Airplanes always dehydrate me.”

  “It’s especially important now,” Andrew says.

  “What?” I shoot him a scrunched-up-face look. Give us a minute before you kill them with this news, big guy. Yikes.

  “Summer in the land of humidity.” He mouths “stop” to me when she turns her back to get a glass.

  “How’s the biz, son?” Hugh stands behind the chair next to me, but I’m the only one who has sat so far. I feel short.

  “Good, Dad.”

  “What’re you up to? Any big deals in the works?”

  “You know Jeremy; he likes to keep me busy. I’m on my way to New York. We’ll start shooting in a couple weeks.”

  Maria brings me the water and sits across from me at the table. “What will you do while Andrew is gone, Kelly?”

  “She’s going with me, Mom. The boys too.”

  “Really? How nice.” She smiles, no teeth. The way that really just came out sounded pained.

  “I couldn’t pass up a chance to show the city to everybody. Remember the first time I went with Todd and his folks? Maybe the boys will love it as much as I did.”

  “Uh-huh. And where are they right now?”

  “In LA with my parents. Getting some quality grandparent time,” I explain.

  “Speaking of grandparents—”

  Oh God, here he goes.

  “Oh, you should see little Avery. She’s adorable.” This is Lizbeth’s daughter, Andrew’s niece. Mama Pettigrew already has grandkids.

  “I bet she is, Mom. We’re pregnant.”

  “What?” She sets her glass of water down with a plunk.

  “We? Who’s we?” Hugh sounds confused.

  “Kelly’s going to have a baby, Dad. With me.”

  So much for this going well. I guess Andrew decided to take the Band-Aid route. It’s news that just needs to be torn off.

  “When are you due?” Maria looks right at me, and I feel a chill.

  “We’re not super sure yet—we just found out ourselves,” I tell her. “We wanted you to be one of the first to know and didn’t want it to get to you some other way.”

  “Are you going to get married? And what about a pre-nup?” Maria’s eyebrows knit together in a deep V.

  Andrew just looks tired.

  “Don’t just go getting married because of the baby.” Hugh’s voice is louder, annoyed.

  Guess I won’t show him my hot dog twist-tie engagement ring. I feel positively frozen now.

  “We’re not going to do that thing where we have a conversation about someone in the room as if they’re not here, are we?” Andrew stands behind me and puts a protective hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get married when we want to, before or after, whatever we choose. And I’d write her a check with all my money right now if she wanted it. This is it. Kelly’s the one.”

  He stops, and we all remain sitting or standing, quiet. I can’t help but smile at his words. I really want to give him a big fat kiss. But I’m going to hold still and stay silent instead. I sure as hell won’t be the one to say anything next. I’m staying as far out of this as I can.

  Man, am I sick of Andrew defending me to other people. First, co-star Franca and Jeremy the agent, now his parents. Am I that much of an albatross around his neck? I guess I had to defend him to my folks and Tessa when we went through his rehab, so maybe we’re almost even.

  Maria picks up both water glasses and goes to put them in the sink. “We’re very happy for you, son. It’s a big step, that’s all. I’m sure Kelly can tell you that.”

  “Of course. Of course it is.” That’s all I get out. I dazzle with my articulate speech under pressure.

  “Mom, Dad, I love you both to pieces. Hear me when I say that this is good. I’m happy and healthy—the healthiest I’ve been since I went out to Hollywood, probably. It’s been more than ten years, and I’m ready for this. And I care about you and love you, which is why we’re here, telling you the news.” He walks to the sink, puts his hands on his mom’s shoulders.

  She turns around. There are tears in her eyes. “I guess I just thought at some point you’d come back. Come back home, settle down here. Now you don’t have a reason to.”

  “A reason to come back? I’ll always come back to visit with my family, Mom. I know it’s been crazy, but things will eventually slow down.”

  “No, they won’t. Kids mean you’ll be busy. Your sisters are always too busy to come home.” She takes a tissue from a box on the kitchen counter, dabs at her eyes delicately.

  “You could come see me, Mom. Dad’s been out. Maybe it’s time you get past the flying thing.”

  “We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about the fact that you’re starting a family with a woman who’s already been married, has already had kids, isn’t in your business, doesn’t have money of her own.”

  I swallow hard. Don’t take that bait, Andrew. She’s your mom; don’t do it. “Maria, it’s okay. This is big news for everyone. I love Andrew with all my heart. I promise.” Maybe this will stop him.

  “Mom, would you like us to stay or should we head on toward New York tonight?”

  Her face goes blank. “What?”

  “If you can’t give me credit for choosing who I love, and for having a bra
in in my head, maybe we should move on tonight.”

  Hugh slaps the newspaper in his hand down on the table. “All of this is ridiculous. We’ve stayed by your side from the time you left for LA, through the soap opera jobs, through your ups and downs, through rehab, through all of it. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves and say things we’ll regret later.”

  “And Kelly’s been with me through the worst of it too. We’re a package deal. Me and Kelly and Hunter and Beau and the baby. That’s the way it is.” Andrew takes her hand. “We’ll come visit. But you could come out to see us too.”

  “Andrew…” She puts her other hand on his, squeezes it.

  “Please, Mom. Please.” He looks at her.

  “Just give me some time.” She lets go and walks out of the kitchen.

  Hugh looks at me. “It’s a lot to digest. That’s all. I’m sure it’s all occurred to you too.”

  I think he’s campaigning for some help here.

  I nod. I don’t know these people. I don’t know the family dynamic. I do know that family is complicated. It just is.

  Hugh turns to Andrew. “Son, please stay tonight. You know your mother. You brought up the flying thing. You can’t expect a good outcome when you do that.”

  “It’s been the elephant in the room forever. Now she won’t even go to the mall, Lizbeth said. Someone has to say something about it.”

  “Well, that someone doesn’t need to be the son who never comes home, unless it’s to drop a bombshell like a pregnancy-out-of-wedlock on us.”

  “Twenty-first century, Dad. It’s the twenty-first century. I don’t even think the word wedlock is still in the dictionary.”

  Hugh pinches the bridge of his nose. Funny, I’ve seen Andrew do that too. They look a lot alike, especially through the eyes and cheekbones. I always thought he might look more like his mom. Hugh finally says something. “Let’s all get some sleep. Give your mom the morning, at least. Let this sink in. Don’t go storming off.” He puts a hand on Andrew’s shoulder, tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Okay?”