21
Floss
“Breech? You’re sure, dear?”
When Neva arrived on my doorstep with groceries, I’d had a feeling something was up. Her hair, which was normally smooth and restrained in a ponytail, was wild and stringy. At first I’d thought it was Grace standing there. Her face had been flushed, and it looked like she’d been crying. Now, with her legs crossed underneath her on my sofa, the tears flowed freely.
“Completely sure.” A new tear slipped down her cheek and she flicked it away. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Don’t apologize, dear.”
“… the ridiculous thing is, I didn’t even notice it was breech. It was Patrick who pointed it out. Patrick is the guy you met at the hospital,” she said before I could ask. “He’s the one who is pretending to be the father of the baby.”
I repeated the sentence in my head to be sure I’d heard correctly. “Pretending to be the father?”
Neva nodded.
“I see.” I tried to keep my face neutral. Any reaction too large had a way of frightening my granddaughter into silence, and she clearly needed to talk this through. “And why is he doing that?”
“He offered, to help with the questions. We’re kind of seeing each other.”
I waited, but Neva didn’t say anything more. “Patrick must care about you a lot to pretend to be the baby’s father,” I said gently. “Are his feelings reciprocated?”
“Yes, but…” She trailed away.
“But what, dear?”
“I just don’t see how it can last. He’s not the baby’s father. And sooner or later, he’s going to want to know who is.”
“You wouldn’t consider telling him?”
“I can’t. He’d leave me.”
Behind Neva, Lil trailed the hall, a garbage bag in her hand. I met her eye briefly. Last night, once I’d finished recounting my own secret, Lil had thanked me for telling her then excused herself for bed. This morning, she’d bustled around, preoccupied with all the jobs in the house that suddenly needed doing. I left her to it. She needed time to process.
“You never know,” I said. “People can surprise you.”
“Not this time.”
Neva sank farther into the couch, almost as though she wanted to disappear into it. I knew better than to push her. “Well, it’s up to you, of course.”
“I wish he was the actual father, Gran.”
“But he’s not,” I said. “No point in wishing things are different than they are.” Neva nodded, staring at her lap. “For what it’s worth, though,” I added, “I think biology is an amazing but largely irrelevant part of being a parent.”
“You do?”
I nodded. “In fact, I think choosing to be there for a child, despite the fact that you aren’t biologically related to it, makes it even more special.”
Slowly, a smile appeared. “You’re so wise, you know that?”
“Not wise. Just old.”
She heaved herself out of the chair and kissed my cheek. “I have to go.”
Neva saw herself out, and the room was quiet again, apart from Lil shuffling around in another room. After a minute or two, she came in and lowered herself onto the opposite sofa. “Is Neva gone?”
I nodded. “She’s found out her baby is breech.”
“Breech?”
“Upside down. She’ll probably have to have a C-section. Not the end of the world, but a disappointment for Neva.” I exhaled. “She also has some other personal problems. Poor love has got herself into quite the tangle with this baby/father business.”
“Were you able to offer her some advice?”
“I’m hardly one to be giving advice on secrets, Lil. Besides, it’s complicated. Now that she has Patrick, she has so much to lose.”
“There’s always something to lose when it comes to revealing a truth,” Lil said. “But there’s also something to be gained.”
Before me, Lil had only loved once before, a woman name Rosita. Rosita was married to a man with whom she shared four children, and she told Lil that when her youngest son turned eighteen, she would leave. As the time grew close, Lil searched for rental properties and found a cottage in Jamestown—two bedrooms, in case any of the children wanted to come and stay. But Rosita’s youngest son’s birthday came and went, and still, Rosita only came for day visits to the cottage. They’d cook meals together, go grocery shopping. Take strolls along the beach. Then, at night, Rosita went home again to her husband.
One sunny afternoon as they strolled along the pier, they bumped into a man. He was gray-haired, probably in his early fifties. A friend of Rosita’s husband. When he saw Rosita, Lil saw a glimmer of recognition. At the same time, Rosita took a subtle step away from Lil. “Rosita,” the man said. “Fancy seeing you in Conanicut Island! Is Vince with you?”
There was a brief shaking of hands, and then Rosita twisted on the spot. “Oh,” she said. “Yes, this is Lil. An old school friend.”
Lil hadn’t expected to be introduced as Rosita’s lover. But the way Rosita tied herself in knots spoke volumes. That was the day Lil realized their relationship would always be a secret. And after a lifetime of hiding who she was, she wasn’t prepared to live with secrets anymore.
I knew all this. So Lil’s clasped hands and settled jaw shouldn’t have been a surprise.
“What are we talking about, Lil?” I asked.
“We’re talking about secrets. Sometimes people keep them for so long, they forget the reason they’re even doing it. Or the reason changes or becomes distorted.”
I still didn’t know exactly what Lil was getting at. “Meaning?”
“Meaning Grace is an adult now. She can handle this.”
“I’m not sure about that.”
“She can,” Lil said. “People handle a lot worse every day. But I’m not sure you can handle keeping this secret. You just had a heart attack, Floss. If you don’t tell Grace the truth, I’m afraid—” She paused, cleared her throat. “I’m afraid it’s going to kill you.”
“No. You don’t understand, Lil. You couldn’t possibly understand. Unless you have children of your own, you can’t understand the need to protect them before all else. Before even yourself.”
Lil winced a little, and I was stung by my own words. But rather than running away or crying, she sat a little taller. It was as if I had further confirmed her resolve.
“Why don’t you be honest, at least with me?” she said. “This isn’t about Grace handling it or not handling it. This is about you. What you’re afraid to lose. You are afraid, not for Grace’s welfare, but for your own. You’re afraid that if you tell her this, she won’t consider you her mother anymore.”
“No. That’s not it.”
“I may not be a mother,” Lil continued, “but I know what it’s like to keep a secret. I spent the best part of a lifetime denying who I was. And it wasn’t until I admitted the truth that I ever felt any peace. I want that peace for you, Floss. You need to tell Grace the truth.”