Getting Her Back

This entire conversation about kids, my mother hasn’t looked at me once. She looks at me now. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m trying to get pregnant. No father, just me and a baby.”

I don’t think that I’ve ever seen my mother speechless, but this seems to have done it. “Audrey,” she says, her entire voice in awe. “You’re not kidding? You’re actually doing this?”

“I am.” I feel a little bit bad about not telling her the whole truth, but telling her that I was contacting strangers online to knock me up is not an option.

She stands and comes around the table wrapping me in an embrace. I don’t know what to do, my mother is not generally a touchy person. “That’s wonderful,” she says. “I’m so proud of you for making the decision to do it on your own. You know your father and I will help in any way that we can.”

“Thanks.”

She releases me, patting me on the shoulder. “I think it’s very smart of you, to take it into your own hands. It’s very brave of you, considering how your relationships don’t seem to work out.”

I look down instinctively. Even though I know she’s referring to what happened with Christian, and frankly every relationship that I’ve tried before or after him, it still stings. Besides, it only has to work out once. Just because it hasn’t worked out yet doesn’t mean it won’t in the future. “I’m not bad at relationships, Mom. I just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“No, of course. You are not bad at the actual relationships. I’m just not convinced you know how to pick a winner. Like that young man, Christian. How long did you go out again?”

“Three years,” I mumble.

“That’s right. Three years. Three years of living together and he still didn’t want to commit to you? I’ll never forget the day that you came home. I thought that the two of you made a nice couple. He was always respectful, and he brought me the nicest flowers when you visited. But we can always make mistakes when judging someone’s character. I liked him until you pulled into the driveway sobbing.”

I’ll never forget that day either, I cried the whole drive. By the time I reached my parents’ house, I was a sopping mess, and it was all I could do not to collapse on the front lawn. Mom brought me inside and didn’t ask any questions. She put me in bed in my childhood bedroom, made me soup, and sat with me until the tears stopped hours later. It was only then that I was able to tell her what happened.

But given what he’s doing now, I don’t like the way my mother is talking about him. I have the sudden urge to defend him and his actions, but I don’t. I don’t know why I would even have that instinct, after what he did.

But why did he do what he did? I’ve been so busy working through my pain and my anger and my arousal, that I haven’t asked him. Why was he so adamant about not having children or marrying me back then? And if he was that panicked at the thought of commitment, or a child, why is he willing to get me pregnant now? Is it only because he’s able to walk away?

Fuck.

Now I have to know. It’s going to eat me up otherwise. But this isn’t the kind of thing I can ask him over a text message. It has to be in person. I have to see his face, and know why he made the decisions that he made. I’m seeing him Tuesday night, and I’ll ask him then.

“Audrey?”

I realize that I kind of zoned out after my mother reminded me of that night. “I know,” I say. “But I’m not going to write myself off just because I didn’t find somebody like you did. And this time, I’ll know what I’m looking for.”

My mother nods. “Well, at least you’re being responsible about it.”

She’s never going to believe me until it happens, it’s just the way she works. Once my mother has chosen to believe something, she needs evidence to the contrary to change her mind.

I was going to tell her about the art workshop, but I already feel like I’ve shared enough for one day. I don’t think I could take it if she decided to undermine my ability to love and my artistic ability in one day, no matter if she wants my opinion on the party theme or not.

I spend another hour helping her look through books and making some preliminary choices, but now that she’s on the path of a theme she doesn’t really need my help. My mother is a master party planner, something that I will never be. So after I make sure she’s gotten all the opinions she needs from me, I take my leave, my mind still circling around the question: