What It Is (15 page)

“Good, let her cry!”

Emily would shake her head sadly. “I hate being in the middle sometimes,” she’d say. I didn’t want Emily to feel as if she had to choose between her mother and her sister so I stopped trying to bring up the past and stopped gloating about Mom’s misery.

One evening Emily and I were sitting down to have dinner together at a local Italian restaurant. Emily had called me earlier that day and wanted to talk to me about “something important” and refused to tell me anything over the phone, so naturally I thought she was going to tell me that she was pregnant. I had an entire congratulatory speech ready to go when she shocked me and said, “I talked to Mom about what she did to you when we were kids.”

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. “You did, huh?” I asked, trying to act like I didn’t care about it one way or the other when in reality waves of hope were surging through my veins.
Maybe she feels really bad and apologized for everything!
I suddenly thought of having a mom in my life to cook, shop, and gossip with and the thought of it made me tremble on the inside. “Well,” I continued, “what did she say?”

Emily leaned forward in her chair and said, “That’s why I wanted to talk to you in person. Sarah, it was the craziest thing. She acted like I was crazy and had
no
recollection of anything I was telling her!” Emily leaned back and took a sip of water. “Sarah, it was so weird! I mean, I even brought up her shooting your goat and she didn’t even remember that you had a goat!”

I couldn’t believe that Emily remembered Mom shooting Indy, and my heart began to hurt.
She has so many bad memories
, I thought sadly

 “Sarah, she just kept saying,
I don’t know what you are talking about
, over and over! I wasn’t being mean, I just…” her voice trailed off and she started to stutter nervously, “D…d…d…o you th…th…th…think I did the r…r…r…ight thing?”

I sat up, reached out, and grabbed Emily’s hand. “I think what you did was very brave,” I said with a reassuring smile on my face, “but, what I don’t understand is why you did it in the first place.”

Emily took another sip of water and took a deep breath. “Because,” she said without stuttering, “Mom has said such horrible things about you; she said you were just terrible to her and that you ruined her life and that she gave everything up for you and all she got in return was a bitch of a daughter.” Emily cringed as the words came out of her mouth. “I believed it when I lived with her, but knowing you now…” her voice trailed off again and she looked up at me with tears in her eyes. “I know you aren’t the person she describes.” I squeezed Emily’s hand and the years of resentment I had held toward her melted completely away.

“None of it was your fault, honey,” I said softly. “It is what it is and we have each other now.” I realized I had been angry with Emily for years for no logical reason; it wasn’t her fault that Mom showed her love and stayed involved in her life. It is what it is and I could choose to continue walking around with a chip on my shoulder because of it or I could accept the past and focus on our future as sisters.

“But,” Emily continued, “when I catch her with your picture and I see her crying, I know she can’t hate you as much as she says she does.” She cleared her throat. “So I was visiting her yesterday and she started asking me about you and I just snapped and said, ‘If you care so much, why did you beat her up like that when she was a kid?’ ”

I sucked in my breath. “And?” I asked.

“That’s what was so odd, Sarah! She acted all shocked and her mouth hit the floor. She went, ‘What? What are you talking about? I never hit her!’ and Sarah, I swear I about fell over!”

I let go of Emily’s hand, sat back in my chair, and shook my head in disgust. “Don’t even tell me any more,” I said. “Of course she denies it, of course she doesn’t
remember
. How convenient for her to just forget everything and act like it didn’t happen.”

Emily looked at me crossly. “Well, I’m telling you she acted like she really didn’t remember anything, and it made me wonder if she was sick.” Emily leaned forward and whispered, “Like really sick, sick in the head.”

“Of course she is,” I said loudly, and I slammed my hand down on the table. A couple of customers turned around in their chairs to look at me and I dropped my voice. “Of course she is,” I repeated softly, “because no sane person would ever hurt a child the way she hurt us!”

“But Sarah,” Emily pleaded, “what if she really is sick and doesn’t remember what she did? At least maybe we could move on and be a family again!”

Bless her heart
, I thought, but I remained defiant. “Emily, we will never be a real family, never! At least you know who your dad is. Did you ask her about that too? Did she forget that too?” Suddenly I realized I was putting Emily in the middle of Mom and me again, the very thing she didn’t want. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “OK,” I said, “so
maybe
she forgets. What now?”

Emily shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Sarah, and I think that there is so much crap you two have to get through from the past that you don’t know how to start your future.” Emily seemed much wiser than her years. “Maybe sometime down the road in a few years or something you two can talk.”

Fat chance!
I thought, but I didn’t want to discourage Emily so I smiled. “Maybe one day.” We quickly changed the topic and finished our meal.

Later that evening, after Emily had left for home, I sat with Aron and Ryan and recanted the entire conversation I had with her over dinner.

“What a bitch!” Ryan said, and I snapped my fingers at him.

“Watch the language!” I said sharply.

Ryan threw his hands up. “Well, what do you want me to say?” he asked. “Your mom is going to act like she did nothing to you growing up, like all of a sudden she can waltz back into your life and act like it’s OK that you two haven’t talked for sixteen years?”

I was surprised that Ryan was getting so passionate. “Ryan, I didn’t say she was waltzing back into my life. I am just saying that Emily seems to think that Mom has something really wrong with her. I don’t know, maybe it’s something she needs medication for or something.” I started to make excuses for Mom’s behavior in my head when Aron’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Although I don’t agree with the language used,” Aron said, shooting Ryan a disapproving glance across the living room, “I agree with what he is saying. I think your mom is feeling guilty and lonely right now. She’s getting older, she’s thinking about her life, and she feels like shit that she isn’t involved with her first-born daughter right now.” Aron shook his head. “Don’t fall for it, Sarah, don’t believe for one minute that she doesn’t remember every single thing she did to you because
I
believe that she does.”

I knew in my mind that what Aron and Ryan were saying was true, but my heart was telling me a different story. The more I thought about what Emily said, the more my heart hurt and the more I began to feel sorry for Mom.
What if it was something genetic, what if there is something that happened during her first pregnancy that snapped something in her brain and made her act the way she did.
I looked at Aron and Ryan and began to sob.

“What if it was something she couldn’t control?” I started to throw out crazy medical diagnoses. “What if she had a disorder and it made her hate her first child, what if—”

Aron cut me off. “Sarah, that is the dumbest thing I have ever heard, and I would hope that four years of college would make you smarter than that.”

I stopped crying and sat up. “But,” I sniffed, “what if it is genetic and I have the same problem she does? What happens if we have a kid and I turn into her or something?”

Aron cocked his head at me and his eyes softened. “Is that why you haven’t wanted a child for all of these years? You are so afraid of turning into her?”

“Well, not the whole reason,” I said. “I know I won’t hit a child because we have Ryan and I don’t hit him. But Ryan didn’t come out of me and if it is genetic or a mental disorder, what if pregnancy triggers it?”

“I think you should call an attorney and sue your college for a lack of education,” Ryan piped up sarcastically. Aron and I both turned to him in surprise. “Well, I’m serious; this is so dumb! You might not be my real mom, but you are my mom and I know you wouldn’t hurt a kid that you and Dad have because you don’t hurt me.”

What Ryan said was so simple but it made so much sense at that moment. He was right. I already was a mom and I had proof sitting right in front of me that I was nothing like my mother. Ryan didn’t look like I did when I was fourteen years old; he wasn’t beaten and bruised and ashamed to look people in the eyes. Ryan was a handsome, proud, engaging young man with a heart of gold, and I had contributed to making him the wonderful person he was.

“Awe, big guy!” Aron said affectionately, and he reached over to pat him on the shoulders. “We both know what a wonderful person you are, Sarah, we just wish you would see it for yourself.”

Over the next few months I began to think about having a baby more and more. My college friends started having babies and I started to feel an empty spot in my heart as they described their children opening their eyes for the first time or how it felt to nestle with their babies at night. I began to crave that feeling of love that they were describing, and I started to make a list of all of the reasons I should have a baby. The more I listed all of the positive things a baby could bring to our lives, the sillier my reasons for not having a baby looked.

I located a great OB/GYN to find out more about my kidney problem and how it would affect my body during pregnancy and learned that although one of my kidneys was severely damaged by a reflux disease I was born with, the surgery I’d had as a child saved my life and my surviving kidney had grown to twice its size to compensate for the damaged one.

“Your kidney would be able to handle twins if it had to,” my doctor said.

I found great exercise programs and healthy menus for pregnant women so I knew I would be able to keep myself in shape during pregnancy, and I hadn’t been anorexic for years. So now I knew that I had nothing medically holding me back from having a baby, and the biggest roadblock I had to conquer was my fear of turning into Mom.

One afternoon Aron and I were standing in line at the grocery store waiting for our turn to check out. We made our way up to the checkout girl, and she stopped and looked at us and smiled. “You two would make such pretty babies!” she exclaimed, and my face immediately got hot.

“Thank you!” Aron said, and he put his arm around my shoulder. “Now just convince her to have a baby with me.” I glared up at Aron and stormed out of the grocery store and fumed as I waited for him in our car.

“What the hell, Aron?” I snapped at him after he loaded our groceries into the trunk and got in. “Why the hell would you embarrass me like that?”

“What, Sarah,” Aron asked angrily, “does the truth hurt? I am with a woman I love more than any other woman in the world and she doesn’t want to have my baby. How do you think that makes me feel?” He put the keys into the ignition and looked into the rearview mirror. “I’m sick and tired of hearing about your mom and how you don’t want to be like her. You not like her, look at Ryan!” He looked at me and said, “Sarah, don’t think for one minute that if we had a child and you hit it or did anything to it like your mom did to you that I wouldn’t take our child and have you thrown in prison.” He put the car into reverse and began to back out. “I’m not Richard or Arthur or whoever your father is and I won’t stand by and watch something like that.”

For what seemed like the millionth time in our relationship, I realized how lucky I was to have Aron in my life. Here was a man who would be willing to take a chance with me, take a chance that I turn into my mother, and have a child with me. Not only was he willing to have a child with me, he was willing to save that child if I snapped and did indeed turn into Mom.

“You are such a decent guy, Aron,” I said softly. “I am so lucky to have you.”

He reached over and grabbed my hand. “I love you more than you know,” he said.

We went home and after we ate dinner and Ryan took off to a friend’s house, Aron and I made love for hours and conceived our child that evening.

I got pregnant so quickly that I really didn’t have time to react to it; I had heard many of my college friends complain about the months it took them to get pregnant, so I thought I would have a year before I would have to worry about maternity clothes, baby furniture, or any of the other thousand things that go along with having a baby. I called Emily the day I missed my period and made her drive to my house to be there with me when I read the results of the pregnancy test because I knew she would be thrilled at the prospect of being an aunt and because I was scared of doing this without my sister.

I was overjoyed to be pregnant and any misgivings I had about turning into Mom were nonexistent as Emily and I went maternity clothes shopping and filled the baby room full of furniture, toys, and clothes. I framed each of my ultrasound pictures and talked to my little baby each day, telling it how much I loved it and how I couldn’t wait to meet him or her in a few months. From the moment I read the words “positive” on the pregnancy test, all I felt was pure love for this little person growing in my body.

We decided that we were not patient enough to wait to find out the sex of the baby, so my doctor scheduled an ultrasound. As I lay on the table looking at the picture of my little baby on the screen, I thought of Mom. I wondered if there were ultrasounds around when she was pregnant with me and if there were, if she looked at me on the screen and loved me. I wondered if she was excited to find out that I was a girl and if she felt any love toward me at all while she was pregnant with me. I began to feel sad, but before I could bury my head and cry, the nurse exclaimed, “Oh, there it is. Congratulations! You’re having a boy!”

I strained my eyes to see the area on the screen that she was pointing to and saw a tiny little penis. My heart soared. “A boy! Aron, we are going to have our own little boy!”