Of all the secrets I’ve held over the last few months, I’m the saddest about keeping everything from my mother. I don’t know how she’ll take it. I know she’ll be excited about the pregnancy, but I don’t know how she’ll feel about me and Ryle splitting up. She loves Ryle. And based on her history with these types of situations, she’ll probably find it very easy to excuse his behavior and try and convince me to take him back. And in all honesty, that’s part of the reason I’ve been stalling this, because I’m scared there’s a chance she might be successful.
Most days I’m strong. Most days I’m so mad at him that the thought of ever forgiving him is ludicrous. But some days I miss him so much I can’t breathe. I miss the fun I had with him. I miss making love to him. I miss missing him. He used to work so many hours that when he would walk in the front door at night I would rush across the room and jump in his arms because I missed him so much. I even miss how much he loved it when I would do that.
It’s the not-so-strong days when I wish my mother knew about everything that was going on. I sometimes just want to drive over to her house and curl up on the couch with her while she tucks my hair behind my ear and tells me it’ll all be okay. Sometimes even grown women need their mother’s comfort so we can just take a break from having to be strong all the time.
I sit in my car, parked in her driveway, for a good five minutes before I work up the strength to go inside. It sucks that I have to do this because I know that in a way, I’ll be breaking her heart, too. I hate it when she’s sad and telling her I married a man who might be like my father is going to make her really sad.
When I walk through the front door, she’s in the kitchen layering noodles in a pan. I don’t remove my coat right away for obvious reasons. I’m not wearing a maternity shirt but my bump is almost impossible to hide without a jacket. Especially from a mother.
“Hey, sweetie!” she says.
I walk into the kitchen and give her a side hug while she layers cheese over the top of the lasagna. Once the lasagna is in the oven, we walk over to the dining room table and take a seat. She leans back in her chair and takes a sip from a glass of tea.
She’s smiling. I hate it even more that she looks so happy right now.
“Lily,” she says. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I don’t like this. I was coming over here to talk to her. I’m not prepared to receive a talk.
“What is it?” I ask hesitantly.
She grips her glass of tea with both hands. “I’m seeing someone.”
My mouth drops open.
“Really?” I ask, shaking my head. “That’s . . .” I’m about to say good, but then I grow instantly worried that she’s just put herself in a similar situation she was in with my father. She can see the worry on my face, so she grabs my hands in both of hers.
“He’s good, Lily. He’s so good. I promise.”
Relief washes over me in an instant, because I can see she’s telling the truth. I can see the happiness in her eyes. “Wow,” I say, not expecting this at all. “I’m happy for you. When can I meet him?”
“Tonight, if you want,” she says. “I can invite him over to eat with us.”
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “Now’s not a good time.”
Her hands squeeze around mine as soon as she realizes I’m here to tell her something important. I start with the better part of the news first.
I stand up and remove my jacket. At first, she doesn’t think anything of it. She just assumes I’m making myself comfortable. But then I take one of her hands and I press it against my stomach. “You’re gonna be a grandma.”
Her eyes widen and for several seconds, she’s stunned speechless. But then tears begin to form. She jumps up and pulls me into a hug. “Lily!” she says. “Oh my God!” She pulls back, smiling. “That was so fast. Were you trying? You haven’t even been married for very long.”