CHAPTER 23
Lucy
Shannon wasn’t returning my calls. I hadn’t spoken with her since the ZydaChicks concert and I could only conclude that she didn’t want to listen to me lecture her again about telling Julie and Glen that she was pregnant. This afternoon, though, she finally left a message on my cell phone, sounding nonchalant, as though I hadn’t been trying to get in touch with her for the past week.
“How about I bring over some subs and we just veg in front of the TV?” she suggested.
I left a message for her in return. “Excellent,” I said. “See you at seven.” I would take her any way I could get her. She arrived wearing no makeup, and she was fresh faced and pretty, her long hair still damp and a little tangled from a shower. She looked only slightly more pregnant than she had at the concert, and it might even have been my imagination. She could pass as a girl who had simply put on a bit too much weight. In the next few weeks, though, that was sure to change.
“I got one turkey and one Italian,” she said, dropping the bagged, foot-long subs on my kitchen counter. “Which do you want?”
“I’ll eat half the Italian,” I said, opening the refrigerator. “Lemonade?”
She peered around me to look at the contents of my fridge. “Diet Coke,” she said.
I handed her the can and dropped a few ice cubes into a glass for her. We put the subs on plates and carried them into my living room.
“What do you want to watch?” I asked as we sat down on the couch.
“I don’t care,” she said. “Everything’s reruns, anyway.”
I clicked the buttons on the remote until we found a rerun of Friends. We’d both seen the episode more than once, but it didn’t matter. I just needed some background noise for my inquisition.
“So,” I said as we started to eat, “how are you feeling?”
“Perfect.” She pulled a long sliver of onion from her sandwich and popped it into her mouth. Apparently she was not suffering from indigestion. “I saw the doctor and she says I’m doing fine,” she added.
“Good,” I said, instead of the five million other things on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to know who her doctor was and the exact meaning of the word “fine,” but I thought I’d better mete out my questions bit by bit. I kept quiet for a while as we watched Monica and Rachel argue about something on the TV—I had no idea what. They were not my concern.
“What’s the latest on you and Tanner?” I asked when I’d eaten about half my sandwich and thought enough time had passed since my last question.
“He’s coming here in a week and a half,” she said. “We’re going to talk about our plans then.” She lifted the top of her sandwich and peered inside, pulling out another piece of onion and slipping it into her mouth. “I’m craving onions,” she said. “Isn’t that the weirdest thing?”
“I remember when your mom was pregnant with you, she craved peanut-butter-and-potato-chip sandwiches,” I said. “She ate them all the time.”
“Ugh,” Shannon said. “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. She ate crap the whole time she was pregnant with me.”
I reached out and tugged at a strand of her thick hair. “There’s nothing wrong with you, baby girl,” I said softly. “You’re perfect.”
She looked at me, a smile on her lips. “I can’t wait for you to meet Tanner, Luce,” she said.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said, lying only a little bit. “I guess you haven’t told your dad yet, huh?” I was sure she hadn’t told Julie. I would have heard.
She shook her head. “It’s such a relief to be living there, Luce,” she said. “Really. He just lets me do what I want. I don’t have to call him every two seconds to tell him where I am and that I’m alive.”
She sounded so mean, but I knew that was not her intent. She just didn’t understand Julie the way I did.
“I wish you knew your mother better,” I said.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Who knows her better than I do? I’ve lived with her my whole life.”
“Yes, but you didn’t live with her before you were born, and that’s the time that really…that formed her. It’s hard for you to understand—”
“I understand totally,” she said. “A million years ago, when she was barely out of diapers, she thinks she screwed up with her sister and caused her death and now she’s afraid of everything. Of losing people. Of losing me.” She set her plate on the coffee table and I guessed the topic had killed her appetite. “I need space from her, Lucy,” she said. “She suffocates me.”
“That’s normal,” I said. “You need your independence.You’re ready to leave the nest.”
“Then why are you giving me a hard time?”
“Because much as you want to be free of your mother, she’s still your mother and still responsible for you and you have got to tell her that you’re pregnant.”
“I’ll tell her when I have to,” she said.
I thought of all Julie was dealing with: Ned’s letter, the interview with the cops, worrying that our mother would be dragged into the investigation, Shannon moving out. It was a lousy time to lay one more thing on her, but this particular thing couldn’t wait.
Another show was on the TV now and I clicked the mute button on the remote. “I want you to know what’s going on,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Shannon looked worried. “What are you talking about? This isn’t about that letter again, is it?”
“Yes, it is,” I said. I told her that Julie had gone down the shore to be interviewed by the police and that she’d stayed in Ethan’s house, next door to our old bungalow. “Both things were hard for her,” I said. “Having to remember everything that happened and being someplace that reminded her of your aunt Isabel. And it looks like the police might need to interview your grandmother, so your mom’s going to need to tell her about the letter and she’s worried about that. About how Nana will react. So she has a lot on her plate right now.”
Shannon studied my face while I spoke, then shook her head slowly. “I wish I had a magic wand to make that whole thing go away,” she said. “Mom should be, like, in intensive therapy or something.”
“She was in therapy when she was a kid,” I said. “And she’s okay,” I assured her. “You don’t need to worry about her.You just need to know that the next few weeks might be hard on her and your grandmother.”
“And you,” Shannon said.
“You know,” I said, and shrugged, “I remember so little of that time that it doesn’t have a big impact on me. I don’t even remember Isabel very well.”
Shannon drew her feet onto the sofa and turned to face me. “Okay,” she began. “Now, I’m honestly not saying this to be self-serving or anything, but doesn’t it seem like a really bad time for me to tell Mom I’m pregnant?”
I nodded. “Yes, it does. But I think you’ll have to do it sooner rather than later.” I took her wrist in my hand. “Come on, sweetie. Don’t let her find out by seeing you in maternity clothes, okay?”
She sighed. She had to know I was right.
“Shannon.” I tightened my hand on her wrist. “I’ve never said anything like this to you before, honey, but if you don’t tell your mother, I’m going to have to.”
She looked at me in disbelief. “All right, I’ll tell her,” she said. “Just not, like, tonight.”
“You have a week,” I said.
“All right.”
We turned back to the TV and Shannon clicked the remote until she found a station with old black-and-white reruns. I didn’t know what show we were watching, but it didn’t matter. My niece moved closer to me on the sofa and leaned her head against my shoulder. I put my arm around her and felt my spirit fill to overflowing with love for her.
“Would you be my labor coach?” she asked.
I was touched, but I knew my answer. “No,” I said. “I’m not labor coach material.You know who to ask.”
She let out a long breath. “I’m scared, Lucy,” she said.
I tightened my arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “Of giving birth or of telling your mother?” I asked.
“Of the rest of my life,” she said.