Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,14

bras and fighting for equal rights, she was dreaming up the kind of family she’d have. And she got it: husband, son, and daughter. The perfect family. She loved living a hidebound life and she expected me to want the same thing. She looked at my years in college as some act of rebellion, as though it were some terrible black smear on my life record. She didn’t understand why I wasn’t willing to enjoy the imprimatur of married life. I didn’t understand why she didn’t recognize that I was already happy with what I had.

But marrying Wes put a fresh coat of white paint on that smear.

I continued to skim through the photos, smiling at every single shot. My mother was pickier. With her glasses perched on her nose, she would peer carefully at a photo, muttering underneath her breath: “Who is that person? Why would I want a picture of a stranger?”

“Oh! This one is gorgeous!” She held up the picture. I leaned forward to get a better look. It was a black-and-white close-up of Wes and me. He was kissing my cheek, while my eyes were closed, head slightly shifted to the left. “I want this one too.”

I held up the previous photo. “You just said that you didn’t need to see the rest because this one is your favorite.”

She shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

She continued to flip through each photograph but it was hard for me to focus. I looked out into my mother’s immaculate backyard. A gardener trimmed the shrubs in the distance. The sprinklers went on. Beads of water were suspended in air before they fell to the ground. Directly off the deck was a pool with clear, blue water that sparkled in the sun.

I could count on one hand the number of times the pool and backyard have been used. My mother, she’s a collector—gathering beautiful people and things around her, but never really using them. She was born into the echelons of the elite and never had to work for a thing. She’s vivacious and outgoing. She goes from one event to the next and when there’s no event, she creates one. As a child I used to watch her in awe; she was so different from me. I was okay sitting back and living in my imagination.

But for all her outgoing ways, she was never a hands-on parent. She watched from the sidelines: always there but a few steps away. I think it had to be that way. She was always on the lookout, always protecting me and my older brother, Mitchell. My father died when I was seven.

“Now that you two have settled in, when are you going to give me a grandchild?”

I choked on my lemonade. “Grandchild? We’ve barely been married for a month!”

The look on my mother’s face said: And your point is?

“Babies are in the distant future,” I elaborated. “Like, light-years away distant.”

“Victoria, all I’m saying is that pretty soon you’ll be dreaming of pink and blue onesies. It’ll be all you can think about. Plus, babies make everything wonderful.”

“So does alcohol but that doesn’t mean I should run out and start drinking,” I said smartly, a cheeky smile on my face.

My mother didn’t look amused. “I’m being serious right now.”

“I know, I know.”

All kidding aside, I did want kids. I wanted two girls. I could see myself loving on them as babies, wiping runny noses, breaking up fights when they were young, and handing out curfews when they were teenagers. I had all these waiting memories on hold for my future kids. But that was the thing: Those memories were in waiting and I had no desire to reach for them now.

I reached across the table and held my mother’s hand. “It’s not happening right now.”

She shook her head. “Well, that’s disappointing.”

“I’m not saying it’s not in the cards. I want a family. But right now I want to enjoy my husband. I’m selfish and I want him all to myself.” I smiled. “Can’t I be selfish just for a moment?”

My mother smiled back. “Of course you can. Of course.” We slipped back into a silence, scanning the photos, when my mother spoke up once again. “I forgot what it’s like in the beginning.”

I lifted my head. “Huh?”

She leaned forward and ground the butt of her cigarette into the ashtray. “Oh, you know…fresh love. Newlywed life.” She sighed and tilted her head back so the sun shined down on her. “It’s a beautiful time.”

“It is,” I