"Did you not hear me, Cathy Watson? You leave Maggie alone."
Mom slams the door shut and slaps it hard once just to let Cathy know exactly what she'll get if she dares to pound on it again. Mom's face is red with fury, but she exhales a long breath, leaning against the cracked paint of the hallway. In her pj's, she looks too young to be on the way to being a grandma. Some women haven't had their first child by her age. "Thanks, Mom."
"That girl had it coming. She exists in a constant state of drama that she centers around herself. You don't get to own a man because you dated him once, and you certainly don't get to control who sleeps with him after you broke up."
"That's not what you said yesterday," I remind her.
"Yeah, well, she's got a nerve coming here and shouting that about my daughter."
The alarm on my nightstand starts to ring. It's 7 am, and I should be getting ready for a typical day, but it feels far from ordinary. If Cathy knows, then everyone else will know. She'll make sure my name is mud. Yesterday I might have been able to deal with that, but the news about my dad has stripped me of some of my tough coating. I return to my room to turn off the annoying sound. Mom is heading back to her room as I stick my head out of the door. "I don't think I can face going in today. I'm gonna stay home and wait for Uncle Walter's call."
Mom would usually tell me that I have to go to college whether I'm sick or not. She always wanted me to get the best education and stressed so much if she thought I was going to drop behind. I guess now things don't matter so much.
"Okay, honey. I'll send him your number so he can call you direct. That's better for me. My boss doesn't like it if I accept personal calls at work."
It feels strange to be at home on a weekday. I spend time sorting out my closet, considering which of my clothes will still fit me in a few months. The conclusion is not many. I have no idea how quickly my belly will swell. I throw up twice, which is gross, but I feel so much better after the first time, I welcome it the second. It's after lunch when my phone rings with an out-of-state number.
"Hello."
"Hi, is that Maggie?" Uncle Walter's voice is deep and sounds so much like my dad's that my hand flies to my mouth.
"Yes."
"Maggie, it's your Uncle Walter." He pauses as though he's feeling as uncomfortable about this situation as I am. "I'm sorry we're speaking under such sad circumstances. It's been a long time since I saw you."
"I know," I say, because what else is there?
"I'm sure your mom told you the news about your dad. It's taken us all by surprise."
"Yes."
"Well, I don't know what you feel about it. I know things between you weren't great for a long time." I don't say anything because the lump in my throat is too big to swallow, and I know that my voice will crack if I try. "He left a will. He was more organized about this stuff than I am… it's made me think about what I need to do to get my affairs in order… but that's not what I need to talk to you about. Your dad had a house. It's in the will. He's left you a letter too. I think he wrote it a couple of years ago when he drafted the will. He's asked that you come here to get the keys and read the letter, and he's left it to you to clear out his things."
"He left me a house?"
"Why don't you come over and I can explain everything? It'll be better to deal with it all face to face. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. There will be a lot for you to do. We can spend some time together, and your cousin Jolene. I know she'd be made up to see you again. And Danna too."
All I remember about Jolene is that she had red hair and freckles and used to drag a naked barbie around when she was a toddler. As for Danna, I think she's a little older than me, but not much. We've all grown a whole lot since we last saw each other. Too much time has passed. That is all about to change.
"I'll leave tomorrow morning," I say. "Is that okay?"
"Of course," Uncle Walter says. "I'll send you the details. We'll talk over coffee and see if we can work everything out.
I want to tell him that there's no working anything out. My dad is gone, and I'm knocked up. There is no going back to undo either of those facts.