“Um, hello, I just wanted to drop off a gift.”
“Come in, Samantha,” my mother says. Thank goodness she speaks for me, because I’m still at a loss for words.
“Hi, Cathy. I don’t want to disturb the—”
“Please come in, Mrs. Thorne,” I finally say.
Her timid steps pause when she sees the shoes by the hallway. After a beat, she slips off her kitten heels and strides toward me, arms offering an envelope and a gift bag.
“Thank you,” I say and give Ami a glance.
My sister makes some kind of comment about the cupcakes which other people pick up on. The herd shuffles to the buffet spread in the dining room. Chatter muffles into a hum as I sit alone with Tristan’s mom.
Her voice lowers but doesn’t falter. “I’m sorry to pop in like this. Cathy invited me a month ago, and I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t even RSVP, it’s just . . . I mean . . .”
“We’re happy you could make it. And thank you for your gifts. He’ll be so happy to know you came to the shower.”
She swallows with effort, her hands fidgeting on her lap. “I haven’t reached out because . . . because I’ve been in rehab.”
Shaken by her statement, I’m not sure if I should offer pity or congratulations. Maybe a bit of both?
Ever the height of eloquence, I simply mumble, “Oh.”
“And I left him. Tristan’s father. I filed for divorce and have my own little place. Not far from here.”
Wow. Just wow. It’s shocking, but I can’t help thinking the appropriate response to the divorce iscongratulations for leaving that jerk.
“That’s a lot of changes, Mrs. Thorne,” I state instead.
“Samantha,” she interjects. “Please.”
“Well, Samantha, you’ve made considerable life changes in a short amount of time. How are you coping? Is there anything I can do? Do you need help with the move?”
She exhales roughly and pushes through with a trembling voice. “I’m not here to ask for help. I’m here to ask for forgiveness. The way we treated you when you had the news. I . . . I was not well, Ligaya. My, um, my medicines don’t mix well with alcohol. I shouldn’t have been drinking at all. The pictures of the ultrasound, they shook me. There’s no excuse for my behavior. I should’ve come sooner, but I wasn’t ready. I don’t expect forgiveness overnight, but I want to be here now in whatever way I can. If you think I should leave till you talk to Tristan, I understand. Do you want me to leave?”
Her speech got faster and faster till she ended with a squeaky, high-pitched inflection.
“I would never ask you to leave, Samantha. And Tristan wouldn’t want that, either.”
Tears stream down her face while she shakes her head. I reach out to hug her. My tummy makes it extremely awkward, but I try.
“We’re family now,” I say. At that moment, the kids do their typical cartwheels. “Do you want to feel them? I think the sugar from the cupcake is kicking in.”
“Really?”
“If you want to.”
She nods rapidly, the glimmer of anticipation lightening the weight of worry.
I place her hand at the top where there’s more activity. My lungs are cramped and my bladder is full, but I try to keep very still so she can focus on the movement.
She gasps when she feels the push of a limb.
“Oh, Ligaya.”
“Here’s another one. Lower.”
Her hand is gentle along my side as a round shape pushes against my stomach wall. More than likely, one of the babies is wiggling their butt.
