Ain't She Sweet (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2) - Whitney Dineen Page 0,17
doesn’t move. “Yoo-hoo, Cheryl, anybody home?” She turns her head slowly and looks at me. There are tears in her eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I hurry to ask.
“Seems like Damian got a little more than he bargained for while he was pretending he was single in Los Angeles.”
I immediately wonder if he brought back an STD. There’s no way I’m going to ask such a personal question though, so I simply offer, “I’m sure a nice dose of antibiotics will be just the ticket.” I don’t really know if that’s true, having never had an STD before; I’m just trying to be supportive.
“I don’t think penicillin works on pregnancy,” she deadpans.
“Pregnancy?”
“He knocked up some girl he was seeing there. Claims they broke up last month before he came home.”
“Oh, Cheryl, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do …” I can’t imagine what that would be, but you have to say something to a friend who’s suffering.
“Right now, I’d be happy if you beat him up in a dark alley. I swear to God, the only reason I even let that man through the door was because of the kids. I figured they deserved to have two parents under the same roof, even if it meant having to swallow my pride. But now …” She looks so lost.
“Now, you have to remember to breathe and take it one day at a time. What’s Damian going to do?”
“He wants her to have an abortion, but she doesn’t believe in that. She’s going to have the baby. I don’t know if she’s going to keep it though.”
“Crap.” I mean, what else is there to say?
“Damian doesn’t think we should tell the kids until we know what Kimmy’s”—she says the woman’s name like it causes her physical pain to do so—"going to do with the baby, but I think they have a right to know either way. That little person will be related to them regardless of whether the mother keeps it or not.”
“What a mess.” Cheryl’s son Jeff has worked for me for three summers and I’m one hundred percent sure he’s the kind of kid who would want to know if he had a half-sibling somewhere out there in the world.
Once Cheryl starts to ring up my groceries, her mood shifts to work mode. Before leaving, I once again say, “Anything you need, just let me know, okay?”
“Just remember that real men don’t cheat,” she says with the full force of the bitterness she’s feeling.
“Deal,” I tell her. “But you need to remember that you’re a wonderful lady who didn’t do anything to deserve being cheated on. Got me?”
She nods her head slowly. “That’s easier said than done, but I’ll do my best.”
“Cheryl, you’re young, beautiful, and just about the best mom I’ve ever met. Don’t go giving up on love just because Damian couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
Her head droops like her neck just transformed into a cooked lasagna noodle. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller the last few months. I was finally getting used to the idea of Damian being gone when he came groveling back. What’s to say he won’t pull something like this again?”
I shrug my shoulders before putting my bag of groceries back onto the conveyor belt. I open my arms up to my friend. “Come here.”
She walks into my embrace and I ask, “What was the passage you liked so much from that book you were telling me about this summer?”
With her face pressed against my chest, she recites, “You is kind. You is smart. You is important.” Then she sighs like the weight of the world is crushing her beneath its boots.
“You are all of those things and more, Cheryl. It’s none of my business, but I think it might be best for you to tell Damian to find someplace else to stay. Your kids know how hard it’s been for you since he left. Have you ever thought they’re putting on a brave face for you?”
She looks up at me with a confused expression and shakes her head slowly. “No. I just figured they were so happy to have their dad home they’d do anything to keep him here.”
“Is that a burden they should have to carry though? Kids always find some way to feel responsible for things that aren’t their fault. Maybe if you told Damian to go, you’d actually let the kids see that he bears the burden of his misdeeds, not them.”