A Mother to Embarrass Me (8 page)

Mom picked up a spring roll. She held on to it like it was a delicate cup filled with tea. “That's the exciting part of the commercial. It's for
pregnant
people.”

From outside I heard our neighbor's dog start barking. Was he excited too?

“Tell us all about it,” Dad said. He put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands. He looked at Mom with dreamy eyes. She looked back at him with dreamy eyes. Maybe it was dreamy eyes that had begun this whole pregnant incident. I felt they should stop it right this second.

“Stop it,” I said. “Right this second.”

Now both my parents ignored me.

“Cool,” said Maggie. She looked around the table like she knew something no one else did. “I know a TV star.”

“A pregnant TV star,” I said. The Thai food was starting to smell kind of greasy. “Your belly will show,” I said to my mother.

“I know!” Mom smiled, then broke out into a huge grin. Her white teeth seemed to sparkle. Like maybe
we
were making a commercial at our dinner table: the beautiful, hugely pregnant woman with her husband, also happy, and three children—young adults, I mean—all beaming. Sort of. There was me. My mouth tried to beam, tried to look happy, but I knew I was failing. My lips had the sneer feel to them.

“Your…” I pointed my fork at her.

“What?” Mom asked.

“Your…”

“My…” Mom's voice was a prompt. Her hands helped, waving at me.

“Your. Bosoms.”

Mom's head tilted a little to the left, then to the right. I felt my face turn pink.

Mary gave a sniff that I knew meant I had embarrassed her.

Maggie looked down at her plate.

“They. Are. Huge.” I finished my sentence and gave a cough. Sticky rice flew out of my mouth and landed on the table near a vase of water that held three pink-and-yellow roses.

Mom bit her bottom lip like she was giving the word
bosoms
deep consideration.

“I do have two of them,” she said.

Dad let out a bark of a laugh.

“I have heard of people with extra nipples, though,” Mom said.

“Stop right there,” I said. “Please don't embarrass me any further. Or my friends.”

For sure, both Mary and Maggie looked embarrassed. The
N
word had definitely gotten to them.

“Your
breasts,”
I said, emphasizing the word even though it caused Maggie to giggle, “will show. So will your belly.”

“Bosoms and bellies,” Dad said. “It sounds like a jelly or something.”

“Mom. Stop Dad. He's grossing us all out. Are you two grossed out?” I looked at Mary and Maggie, but they both shook their head. “Yes you are,” I said. “And I know you know it.”

Finally Mom said, “Laurie, I promise to wear a bra.”

“Or two,” I said.

Late that night, once Mary and Maggie had both gone to sleep, I lay in my sleeping bag and stared at the ceiling. Through a large window I could see stars that seemed to wink at me, teasing almost.

“Don't be ridiculous,” I said, keeping my voice low. “This has nothing to do with stars. It has everything to do with Mom.”

I knew exactly what the problem was. Mom— pregnant—in front of the world, for everyone to see. She was huge now. Why would anyone want a pregnant lady advertising their gym? So what if she had a pretty face? “Come to the Rocky Mountain Fitness Center and you can look like me.”

“Jeez.” I sat up and wrapped my arms around my legs, then rested my chin on my knees.

Mary moved a little, then said, “Laura? Why are you up?”

“Just thinking,” I said, “about Mom being in that commercial.”

“Isn't that cool?” Mary asked, and her voice was all thoughtful sounding. In a moment I heard a slight snore and knew she was back asleep.

“Easy for you to say,” I whispered. “Your mother is normal.”

things to change about M
Y
MOTH
ER!!!!!!!

(Where was that list?)

• 22. of us living in the same state—no, the same country
  

• 23. bosoms and bellies
  

If those people at the fitness center were thinking, they'd keep Mom covered from head to toe. An image of her in a towel that didn't quite cover her backside came to mind.

“Please don't let that happen,” I prayed. “Don't let her be in only a towel. Even if it's a really, really big towel.”

When I finally slept, I dreamed of Mom walking through a gym, dressed in a slick exercise outfit, not a bit pregnant.

The next morning we slept late. I was awakened by Mom talking to… to… ? I could hear someone else and the voice was familiar, but I couldn't quite figure out who it was. I crawled out of my sleeping bag, quiet so I wouldn't wake anyone.

I made my way up the stairs like a kitten. Mom stood in the kitchen. I could hear her, plain as day, even though I couldn't see her. She was saying, “Are you sure you don't want any breakfast? Most times I don't start a fire when I'm cooking breakfast.”

And then the other voice. “No thanks, Mrs. Stephan. Mom made oatmeal before I left.”

Oatmeal?
I thought.
Yucko.
I held on to the cherry-wood banister and dug my toes into the
soft brown carpet that covers a lot of the basement floor.

“Oatmeal?” Mom said. “Well, it is very good for you. But… oatmeal.” I could almost see Mom shivering. Just the thought of some foods makes Mom want to puke. I turned and began to tiptoe back down the stairs.

“Let's not talk about that, Christian,” Mom said.

Christian? What was
he
doing here? I froze, my foot ready to take a step.

“Let's get back to talking about Laurie instead.”

I spun toward their voices, my hair swirling out a little, I turned so hard. Talking about me? Could it be… oh, could it be that Quinn liked me now? Could something have changed? Was Rebecca out of the picture? I sank to the step, my hands clenched like I was ready for a long prayer.

Christian cleared his throat. “She'd kill me if she knew we were talking about her.”

“Oh, no,” Mom said. “She'd be pleased.”

I could see the moss-colored marble floor and the very edge of the stainless-steel refrigerator, but that was all. I took another step up.

“I don't know. I've seen her pretty mad at you. If she can be that mad at her own mother, well, I think she could rip my head off and puke down my neck.”

Mad? Mad at my own mother? Well, of course I had been a little upset….

“Don't talk about puking, honey,” Mom said. “It does something to my gag reflex.”

“Sorry.”

Christian was quiet a moment. I took the opportunity to move one step closer, hoping that the barfing comment hadn't made Mom ready to throw up in the kitchen sink. And what in the heck did Christian mean that I could rip his head off and puke like that, anyway? That was gross.

“She really is a nice girl,” Mom said. I heard a tapping noise, like she was drumming the countertop.

“I know it,” Christian said. “I've known it since we were six.”

“That is so sweet!” Mom sounded a little choked-up.

Since we were six? What in the heck was that supposed to mean?

“I wouldn't even talk to you about this, but I know you know her and…”

“I do know her,” Mom said. “Sometimes.”

Sometimes? I leaned my head a little, pushing my left ear toward their conversation.

“Well, yeah,” said Christian. “And see, I know she likes Quinn and…”

He knew I liked Quinn? How… I mean… what… I mean… why… I mean… it showed? I clutched at my pajama top with one hand and
came half a swallow away from choking myself on my own spit.

“Well, every time I'm with her…” Christian stopped talking for a second. “Are you okay, Mrs. Stephan? Why are you crying? Did I say something wrong?”

I heard Mom give a sniff.

“No,” she said, and her voice was all squeaky. “It's just that sometimes she's so unhappy with me that to hear you talk about her like this reminds me of when she was younger. And nice.” Mom said “nice” like Lucy does on
I Love Lucy
when
she's
crying. I felt my face go red. I clenched my fist tighter. Hey now.

There was some more sniffing. It gave me a chance to think. I really had been doing better. At least for a week now I had been nice. I mean, I had said
nothing
about the Elmo slippers since that tragic, embarrassing event was over. And I could have. I really could have.

“I'm better now, Christian. Go ahead.” Mom blew her nose. I hoped she had found some tissues. This had to be added to the list.

Now that she's pregnant, she picks up anything and blows. She's so weepy she has to, she
says. Laundry has doubled because she grabs washcloths, hand towels and sometimes even the corners of sheets. “I get runny like this,” she told me after I asked why she had used the pink guest towel when she was so close to toilet paper. “It happened with you, too. I was runny then as well. Only, this pregnancy is worse.”

My mother is an embarrassing faucet, for heaven's sake. Runny. It was disgusting. And now she was sharing her drippiness with a neighbor. Was nothing sacred in our home? Not even our snot?

I had to see what was going on. Eavesdropping was no longer enough.

I moved up a step closer, careful not to make any noise. If only I could watch the two of them.

“I like her, Mrs. Stephan. I think she's great. But I don't know what to do about it.”

“Have some melon,” Mom said.

“Thanks.”

He liked me? Me? My heart gave a little leap of surprise.

There was a quiet moment. I stretched out a bit, trying to make my neck giraffe-like. If only I could get a glimpse of them.

“I know guys aren't supposed to talk to girls' mothers, but I've known you forever too. I think
you're
great. The way you were when you almost burned down the house. Anyone else would have freaked. And my mom is always saying you're easy to talk to. It's true.”

“Why, thank you, Christian.”

I could just see the corner of the bar in the kitchen. I climbed up one more step and stretched a bit more.

“I appreciate your talking to me, Chris. You're a good kid. And I think Laurie knows it.”

Laura, Mom. The name is Laura.

“I hope so. I want to ask her to the movies. Do you think she'd go?”

I leaned a bit farther, angling my body in an awkward/shape, my head the dot at the top.

“Do I think she'd go? Well, she is a little young for a date. But if you took a few more people with you and let me take you to the theater and sit in the back, I think she might.”

Mom! My mouth dropped open and I got a tiny whiff of my own morning breath. My hand slipped and I teetered for a moment, trying to catch myself. My right arm crumpled beneath me, and with my left hand I made a grab for the banister. But none of that helped.

I fell, my forehead hitting hard on the edge of the top step. I fell right into Mom and Christian's view. “Ow,” I said.

Christian looked at me wide-eyed. He seemed to be frozen in place, holding a fork with a piece of melon stuck in it halfway to his open mouth.

Mom gave a slight scream, then a sniff. She grabbed at the green kitchen towel.

I slumped onto the steps as if I were unconscious. I felt quite uncomfortable.

“Laurie,” Mom said. I heard her pad over to where I lay and knew that if I “awakened,” I'd be eyeball to eyeball with Elmo.

Mom's cool hand touched my cheek.

“She was listening to us,” Christian said. His voice sounded muffled, like maybe he was speaking from behind his hands. “I can't believe she was listening to us.”

I heard the stool scoot back on the marble floor, and Christian took off, walking fast. “Goodbye,” he said.

“Wait,” Mom said, and then she left my “unconscious” body lying there on the stairs. “Christian. Don't go angry. She's a Curious George.”

“I gotta go,” Christian said. “She heard.”

The front door opened and slammed shut. At that moment I heard, from behind me, Mary and Maggie coming up the steps.

“Laura?” Mary said.

I didn't move.

“What's she doing?” Maggie asked. “Why is she lying here partway in the kitchen?”

They were right next to me. I felt someone sit down near my feet.

“I think she's faking it,” Mary said.

Faking it? Some friend she was.

I heard Mom then, coming back toward me.

“Oh, girls. Good morning,” she said. “Breakfast is ready. Go get dressed, then come eat. And Laurie, quit acting, get up and go brush. Your teeth are wearing fuzzy yellow sweaters and I'm sure your breath is bad.”

I opened one eye and looked in the general direction of my mother. “Where am I?” I asked, making my voice sound faint.

Mom raised her eyebrows. “You and I have to have a little talk when you're done, young lady, so get going.”

I went.