I was judging based on the tiniest glimpse of a person, not what was inside.
But the thing is, Leah is wrong about me too. Because I haven’t shared either. I was too afraid to share myself with my own family.
I look around the dining room. No one is nearby.
“I’m sorry, Leah, I didn’t realize. Funny thing, I’ve always envied you. I’d love to have a big family.” I bite my bottom lip and then decide to take the plunge. “I’m trying to have a baby.”
Leah starts to choke on the pimento olive she was eating. She hits her chest and her eyes begin to water.
“Did you just say you’re having a baby?”
I turn around. My mom stands behind me, a shocked look on her face.
“But Gemma, you’re infertile. And single. Unless? What?” My mom stops talking and shakes her head in confusion.
I look around at the large number of people gathered in the living room. There’s Mimi and Greg Butkis, Father Gibbly, a number of Mr. Lewenthal’s former colleagues.
I grab Leah and my mom and pull them into the kitchen.
It’s time.
I won’t tell them about Josh’s role, that’s his decision, but it’s time I told my family who I am, or at least, who I want to be.
When my mom and Leah face me, I say, “I had IVF. I was pregnant, but it didn’t stick.”
My mom’s hand flies to her mouth.
“Mom. I know you want me to get married to some old guy and follow the traditional route for life, but that’s not how things have worked out. I might have a baby with IVF, and I might be single when it happens, and I hope that you’ll love me and the baby just as much as you would if it happened in the normal way of things.”
My mom takes a hard swallow then puts her hands on her hips. “What’s normal, Gemma Louise? Normal, my behind. What kind of nonsense are you talking about? If this is what you want, if it will make you happy, then you go on ahead and do it. I’ll love my grandbaby no matter how he gets here. What are you on about? Normal. Bah.”
She pulls me into a hug and tugs on my hair. “There. Life is wonderful, isn’t it? There, there, Gemma.” She pats my back and I realize that I’m sniffling back tears.
“I lost an early pregnancy last year,” my sister says. “It’s why I was so down at Christmas and New Year’s.”
I pull out of my mom’s arms. My mom nods at Leah. She already knew.
“It was hard,” she says.
My mom nods again.
I look at them both. “Sometime soon, do you want to go out, all of us, just us? It’s been years. I miss you.”
My mom smiles and a little spark enters her eyes that I usually only see right before she’s about to suggest another match. “You can tell us all about IVF.”
A few minutes later Leah is called away by Colin, his remote-control car’s battery died. Then my mom is called away to replace the seven layer salad and refill the punch bowl. I’m left alone in the kitchen.
I sit quietly for a moment and take in how much has happened.
I still don’t believe in quotes, and I’m not sure about love, but I do know that I’ve been doing some things wrong, and I have work to do. First, I need to find a new job. Second, I need to apologize to my friends. Third, I need to ask Josh if he’ll forgive me, and if he could possibly maybe want to try again. My heart thuds at the thought.
I’ll give him time.
We both need some time.
I walk back toward the dining room. When I do, I see Josh in the living room talking to Father Gibbly. I stop and just watch him.
“Gemma. Wow. You look great.”
I shake my head and turn to find Greg Butkis looking over my new dress and my figure appreciatively.
“Your mom mentioned at New Year’s that you’re looking to date. There’s a new steak place in town, what do you think about—”
“She’s not available,” my mom says. She’s carrying the punch bowl and pushing past us.
Greg turns to her and his mouth drops open. “Huh?”
“Buzz off, Greg. Gemma isn’t for you.”
I press my lips together and hold back a laugh.
“But, you said, my mom said—”
“Buzz off,” my mom calls. She plops the punch bowl down and it sloshes over the edges. “What do you think my Gemma is, a buffet you can browse at your leisure?” She picks up her towel. “Shoo.”
Greg looks at her like she’s lost her mind. Which maybe she has. I hold back a laugh. My mom winks at me and then hurries back toward the kitchen, “Gemma, dear, I’m getting more barbecue sausages. If he bothers you, you can drop them on his shirt.”