“This necklace,” she told Jason, “is very precious to me.”
“It’s- it’s lovely, Prissy,” Jason managed, as he dished manicotti onto his plate.
“Would you like more Alfredo, Jason?” Mother asked. “It looks like Carlene hasn’t been feeding you enough.”
Jason had the audacity to dimple up at her. “No, thank you, Prissy. After this, I’ll be so full I might pop.” His eyes went back to his meal as he lowered his head and continued eating.
“Very well,” said Mother. After a beat, she asked, “Do you know what you’re going to name the baby?”
Claire dropped her fork.
Jason cleared his throat. “We haven’t talked about it; we don’t even know the gender yet. We’ve barely found out we’re pregnant.”
Claire, chewing now-tasteless pasta, fought with herself over her mother’s question. She wanted to scream that the baby was none of her business, but she knew that was irrational; if anyone else had asked the question she wouldn’t have reacted that way.
“‘ We’re pregnant’?” Mother said to Jason. “Oh, dear boy, I hear young men say that nowadays like they have any idea of what we women go through after you plant a baby in our bellies.” She chuckled. “It’s very nice of you, though.”
“If I could, I’d share all the physical problems with my wife.” He beamed at her.
Claire gave him a silent smile; she knew it was true.
“Well, you wouldn’t say that if you knew how bad those hemorrhoids hurt, would he darling?”
Claire’s face turned to fire and she couldn’t look at her mother. “I wouldn’t know,” she mumbled, then forked salad into her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Car-Claire. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Are they bad?”
“I have a little morning sickness in the afternoons. That’s all I know about, Mother.”
Mother looked at Jason again. “I had terrible hemorrhoids, Jason, when I was pregnant with Car-Claire. Just excruciating! They were so bad that I had to have Frankli- I mean Frederick, her daddy, put ointment on my bottom every night until she was born.” She winked at him.
Claire’s cheeks burned with humiliation and rage andJason looked a little purple himself. “Mother, please.”
“Claire, darling,” Mother said. “I’m so sorry. Did I embarrass you?”
“No, but …” She hesitated. “I mean, yes, Mother. I’m really not comfortable when you talk like that.”
Jason nodded. “Some of our friends are very … open about these things, and it always makes us both a little uncomfortable.” He smiled. “We’re pretty old-fashioned, I guess.”
Mother opened her mouth but was silenced by the doorbell, which chimed out O Say Can You See?
Another thing that never changes.
Mother stood, dabbed her mouth with her napkin and fluttered toward the living room. “Comiiiing…” she crooned.
“The national anthem ?” asked Jason.
Claire nodded. Mother invited someone inside and a moment later she reappeared with two women Claire recognized as Phyllis Stine and Aida Portendorfer, neighbors from down the street. She’d hoped it would have been Aunt Babs.
“Oh, Carlene!” cooed Phyllis, her hair as falsely platinum as it had been ten years ago. In a clank of plastic jewelry, she pushed a tray of wrapped cookies into Mother’s hands, and came at Claire, intent on a hug. “My, how you’ve grown up! You look so beautiful! You’re just glowing!”
Claire wished she could say the same for Phyllis. The woman still wore blue eye shadow up to her dyed black eyebrows, and looked like a washed up go-go girl with her white hoop earrings, matching white fingernails, pale lipstick, tight sundress under a white faux fur stole, and blue boots the same sickly shade as her makeup.
Claire stood, and Phyllis wrapped her in a bony hug.
Aida Portendorfer, who’d put on another twenty pounds since Claire had left, stood smiling. She’d let her hair go gray and was the embodiment of a sweet grandmother, with
“It’s- it’s lovely, Prissy,” Jason managed, as he dished manicotti onto his plate.
“Would you like more Alfredo, Jason?” Mother asked. “It looks like Carlene hasn’t been feeding you enough.”
Jason had the audacity to dimple up at her. “No, thank you, Prissy. After this, I’ll be so full I might pop.” His eyes went back to his meal as he lowered his head and continued eating.
“Very well,” said Mother. After a beat, she asked, “Do you know what you’re going to name the baby?”
Claire dropped her fork.
Jason cleared his throat. “We haven’t talked about it; we don’t even know the gender yet. We’ve barely found out we’re pregnant.”
Claire, chewing now-tasteless pasta, fought with herself over her mother’s question. She wanted to scream that the baby was none of her business, but she knew that was irrational; if anyone else had asked the question she wouldn’t have reacted that way.
“‘ We’re pregnant’?” Mother said to Jason. “Oh, dear boy, I hear young men say that nowadays like they have any idea of what we women go through after you plant a baby in our bellies.” She chuckled. “It’s very nice of you, though.”
“If I could, I’d share all the physical problems with my wife.” He beamed at her.
Claire gave him a silent smile; she knew it was true.
“Well, you wouldn’t say that if you knew how bad those hemorrhoids hurt, would he darling?”
Claire’s face turned to fire and she couldn’t look at her mother. “I wouldn’t know,” she mumbled, then forked salad into her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Car-Claire. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Are they bad?”
“I have a little morning sickness in the afternoons. That’s all I know about, Mother.”
Mother looked at Jason again. “I had terrible hemorrhoids, Jason, when I was pregnant with Car-Claire. Just excruciating! They were so bad that I had to have Frankli- I mean Frederick, her daddy, put ointment on my bottom every night until she was born.” She winked at him.
Claire’s cheeks burned with humiliation and rage andJason looked a little purple himself. “Mother, please.”
“Claire, darling,” Mother said. “I’m so sorry. Did I embarrass you?”
“No, but …” She hesitated. “I mean, yes, Mother. I’m really not comfortable when you talk like that.”
Jason nodded. “Some of our friends are very … open about these things, and it always makes us both a little uncomfortable.” He smiled. “We’re pretty old-fashioned, I guess.”
Mother opened her mouth but was silenced by the doorbell, which chimed out O Say Can You See?
Another thing that never changes.
Mother stood, dabbed her mouth with her napkin and fluttered toward the living room. “Comiiiing…” she crooned.
“The national anthem ?” asked Jason.
Claire nodded. Mother invited someone inside and a moment later she reappeared with two women Claire recognized as Phyllis Stine and Aida Portendorfer, neighbors from down the street. She’d hoped it would have been Aunt Babs.
“Oh, Carlene!” cooed Phyllis, her hair as falsely platinum as it had been ten years ago. In a clank of plastic jewelry, she pushed a tray of wrapped cookies into Mother’s hands, and came at Claire, intent on a hug. “My, how you’ve grown up! You look so beautiful! You’re just glowing!”
Claire wished she could say the same for Phyllis. The woman still wore blue eye shadow up to her dyed black eyebrows, and looked like a washed up go-go girl with her white hoop earrings, matching white fingernails, pale lipstick, tight sundress under a white faux fur stole, and blue boots the same sickly shade as her makeup.
Claire stood, and Phyllis wrapped her in a bony hug.
Aida Portendorfer, who’d put on another twenty pounds since Claire had left, stood smiling. She’d let her hair go gray and was the embodiment of a sweet grandmother, with
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