"No," I told her. "They have already decided to hire a nanny. My mother had one when she was little. She didn't need one when I was born because she wasn't working yet, but she has to get back to her clients, so it's different now
"It's not the same thing." Massy insisted. "You'll see. Older mothers are more neurotic. They have less tolerance, and they tend to exaggerate every little thing the baby does. A sneeze will became pneumonia."
"Don't you think Hannah's mother would be aware of all that?" Stacy Kreskin piped up. "She just happens to be a psychologist. Massy. It's not going to be the same for Hannah."
"We'll see," Massy said, refusing to be challenged or corrected. To Massy, being right was more important than being a good friend. It never even occurred to her that she was making me unhappy. I don't think she would have cared anyway.
Reluctant to be defeated, she simply shifted to another level of criticism.
"Even if she doesn't find herself baby-sitting or being asked to hang around the house, she'll feel like she doesn't exist anymore. There's a new king or queen. It happened to me!" she cried, shaking her head at the looks of either skepticism or disapproval. "My baby sister is nearly eight years younger, so I should know. shouldn't I? I'm just trying to give her a heads-up about it."
Our little clump grew silent and then broke away like blocks that had lost their glue and exploded, sailing off in a variety of directions. I was left alone to ponder the way my world would change, feeling as if I was floundering on the border between childhood needs and adult responsibilities. Should I be whining about the way our lives were changing or should I accept and adjust?
Maybe I shouldn't care. Maybe I should be happy. I'll be more on my own. I won't be on everyone's emotional radar screen. It's good to be ignored, isn't it? Or will I feel more unloved and unwanted than ever?
The conflict in me kept me sa distracted, I felt like I was lost and drifting most of the time. Sometimes I felt I had stepped into the quagmire of emotions. I had to face it and find a way out. Now, with Mommy's water breaking and little Claude on the threshold of our home and family, there was no more putting it off for later. Whether I liked it or not. whether I was ready or not, the whole situation was in my face. It was all happening and it couldn't be ignored.
There was ring to be another child in this house, a little prince.
The princess would have to step aside.
.
On those rare occasions when either Mommy or Miguel were unable to drive me to school, our head grounds keeper. Ricardo, drove me in his pickup truck. Unfortunately for me, these occasions were so rare. I couldn't use them as an excuse or reason for them to get me my own car before I had a suitable job or earned the year's worth of insurance,
"What good is my driver's license?" I whined more than ever lately. "I don't get much of an opportunity to use it. It's not safe for someone to drive as little as I do."
"Now, there's a good one," Miguel teased. "In order to make the highways safer, we should decrease the number of teenagers with their own cars."
"I'm sure we'll make it all happen soon," Mommy promised. "As soon as I get free of these other issues. I'll help you find suitable employment, and Miguel will look into what car we should get for you. Soon," she repeated.
Soon: That was an easy word to hate. Adults, especially parents, used it as a shield to ward off requests and complaints. It was full of promise, but vague enough to keep them from having to make a real commitment.
Even rarer were times when Mommy
's car was there for me to use Right up to the last week of her pregnancy, she wanted her car at the house. It made her nervous not to have it available for an emergency. Ricardo could drive her anywhere if Miguel wasn't home. or even I could,
The morning Mommy's water broke. Miguel asked me if I would rather go with them to the hospital and wait for my baby brother to be barn, but I told him I couldn't. I had an important English exam to take. I didn't. but I didn't want to be at the hospital. From simply listening to conversations Mommy and Miguel had about different clients of Mommy's. I knew enough to describe myself as being in denial. I resented little Claude so much I refused to admit to his coming and being. I actually imagined Mommy returning from the hospital without him and Miguel explaining it had all been an incorrect diagnosis. It had turned out to be a digestive problem easily corrected. There was no little Claude after all. Our lives, mine in particular, would not change. My world would no longer be topsy-turvy.
"Well, all right." Miguel said with
disappointment flooding his face. "I'll tell you what," he said. "Let Ricardo drive you this morning, and I'll come to the school to get you if your mother gives birth before the day is over. I think that just might happen even though it's nearly a month too soon," he added with some trepidation in his voice.
"You could call the school and let them know to tell me. and I'll drive to the hospital," I said. "Just in case she doesn't give birth that quickly."
Once again his eyes darkened with
disappointment.
"Your mother is nervous. Hannah. I don't want her worrying about you at this time." he added.
"Why should she worry? I'm a good driver."
He stared without replying. It was his way of pleading for understanding,
"All right," I said petulantly. Little Claude hadn't made his first cry and already he was causing me unhappiness. I had to swallow it down.
"Thank you." Miguel said.