silly, really. It’s not like Weezy believed herself to be so morally superior to everyone. It was just that sometimes she simply couldn’t believe the way that people acted. (Like Cleo’s mother, for instance.)
Because what kind of mother would abandon her child at this moment? No matter how disappointed or upset a person was, to sever contact while your only daughter was pregnant? Well, it was disgusting. That’s what it was. There was no other word for it, really. Except maybe despicable. And selfish.
“You know,” she told Maureen, “I’m not thrilled with this either. I’m not jumping up and down that my son that’s still in college is going to be a father. But I’m helping. I’m still talking to him.”
“I know,” Maureen said. “But you never know the details of other people’s lives.”
“I know enough. I know enough to know it’s wrong. I have half a mind to call her up myself and talk to her.” She’d said as much to Max, but he’d begged her not to.
“Don’t, Mom. Please don’t. They’re figuring it out, and Cleo would kill me if you did that.”
“Fine,” she’d said with a sniff. “I’ll give it a few more months. But then she’s going to have to be involved.”
Right after Max told her the news, she’d been floored. This wasn’t what she expected. Not that anyone expects this news, but still. She had to admit that this hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d thought about what would happen if one of the girls got pregnant, but not this.
“It’s easier, probably, that it’s your son and not your daughter,” Maureen said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Weezy asked.
“It just is. I don’t know.”
Weezy did know what Maureen meant, but she wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of admitting it. At least not without faking some sort of innocence. She had always made a point of being more open-minded than Maureen. When Cathy came out, Maureen admitted (when she was about three bottles of Chardonnay deep) that she was sad about the whole thing.
“I don’t love her differently, I don’t. I just wish … I just wish it wasn’t the case,” she’d said.
“Well, there’s no use thinking that now,” Weezy had said. She’d secretly been thrilled that Maureen had admitted such a thing to her.
“I know that,” Maureen had said. She sounded annoyed. “I just mean, I had a picture in my head of how it was going to be. And now it’s not. It could have been so much simpler.”
They’d never spoken about it again, or at least not really. Weezy had found an article about how parents need to mourn for their straight children when they find out that they’re gay. She’d been excited to give it to her, since it made so much sense. It said that you needed to mourn and fully understand that your child was going to lead a different life than you had imagined. And once you did that, you could fully accept who they were.
“Thanks,” Maureen had said. She took it and folded the paper, and put it right in her purse.
Weezy knew why she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. There was nothing worse than wishing that your children were something other than what they were. She’d had those moments, where she wondered what it would be like if Martha could function on her own, what it would be like if she were able to have normal relationships with people.
And of course, she wished that things had gone differently for Claire. It’s not that she thought marriage and children were the answer to everything. Certainly not. She just wished that things had worked out between them, that Claire was settled now instead of lost.
When Max first told her about Cleo, she’d thought his life was ruined. So there it was, all three of her children in a mess, and yes, she wished things were different. She was ashamed at these thoughts, and she would never admit it to anyone. Maureen probably regretted even speaking the words out loud, and so Weezy swore she would never do the same.
WEEZY HAD BEEN PARALYZED FOR the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. She’d managed to call Max, to tell him that they would be there for him, of course. But then she’d felt like she couldn’t move. Christmas was a struggle. She’d do one thing, like get a box of decorations out of the attic, and then she’d have to lie down. Little by little, everything got done, but