Life and Other Inconveniences(35)

And then the stupid girl got pregnant a week before high school graduation and insisted on keeping the baby. I told her it was foolish. I was furious. A teenage mother? When she had every opportunity in the world waiting for her? How would she support a child? She had options—abortion, a grim choice, but better than throwing away her life. Adoption, even; I would send her to Switzerland or London for the duration, and she could defer college for a year.

No. For the first time ever, she stood up to me and said she was keeping the baby. It was not open for discussion.

I kicked her out. Oh, yes, I did. I hadn’t wanted to raise Emma. I hadn’t asked for her, this daughter of a sick, tormented woman and my useless other son. But I did, I took her in and gave her the best of everything, and she defecated on it all. Keeping the baby? Fine! If she wanted to pretend to be an adult, she could do it on her own dime, thank you very much.

It was much more peaceful without her.

Except it wasn’t. Without Emma, Sheppard became my focus once more, the ten-year reprieve of Emma’s care now over.

After Emma left, I ached for my son all over again. But I never broke. I never became a lush, though it was tempting, or addicted to sleeping pills or pain medication. I never needed hospitalization for grief, because I was a strong woman. I waited instead for Emma to come back, to beg for forgiveness and admit she was wrong, and I waited for something, anything, to change with Sheppard’s case. I waited for God to grant me His side of our bargain—to let me see my son one more time.

Instead, I have a death sentence. It looks as if God left me, just like everyone else.

I know it wasn’t fair to ask Emma back here. She had a point when she said I didn’t deserve to meet her child. So I used what I always used when love failed me—money. And I know that wasn’t fair, either, but by the time this all spins out, I’ll be dead, and at least I won’t have died alone.





CHAPTER 11


    Emma


“Dad!” Riley flung herself out of the car and ran up the steps to Jason, who opened his arms and gave her a big hug, laughing.

I got out more slowly. We were having lunch at a restaurant so Riley could meet her half brothers in person. Jamilah was there as well, just getting out of the car, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. After all, I was the dopey teenager who’d been careless with her birth control pills. Hey. We’d also been using condoms . . . except for that one time. One pre-graduation-party screw, and I was preggers. I somehow knew Jamilah would never have been that dumb.

Jamilah was beautiful, which I knew from pictures and the occasional glimpse of her on Skype. She’d shaved her head since I got the Christmas card, and she looked brilliant and sophisticated, which she was. A tech genius who’d graduated in the top 10 percent of her class at MIT.

Her boys were being introduced to Riley, shaking hands sweetly, then hugging her as my child laughed. It was painfully wonderful to witness.

“Hello, Emma,” Jamilah said, and I tried to assess her tone and failed.

“Hi,” I said, running a hand through my hair. The wind blew it across my face. Should’ve thought of that. Also, I was wearing jeans and a sweater; Jamilah was in something long and flowing and white.

“It’s great to finally meet you in person,” she said, shaking my hand.

“Same here. Your sons are so beautiful.”

“Mom!” said Riley. “This is Owen, and this is Duncan. My brothers!” They were clutching her hands, and it was adorable.

“Hi, boys! I’m Riley’s mom. Remember when we talked on the computer last week? It’s nice to meet you in person. How do you like your sister so far?”

“She’s great!” Owen said. Duncan was swinging Riley’s hand, and my daughter was smiling. Beaming.

“Hey there,” Jason said, giving me a hug. He smelled good. Felt good, too, still lean, the same as ever. And gorgeous. Had I mentioned his looks?

“Nice to see you,” I said, stepping back. Weren’t we all so modern! Jason, his wife, their separation, their sons, our daughter, me . . .

“Are you staying for lunch?” I asked Jamilah.

“No, unfortunately, I have some work to do.” She was an advisor to Google but, according to Jason, worked from home only a few hours a month. Her parents had a summer home in Stoningham, which was how they met. The summer Riley was six.

I wondered why they were separated.

“Okay, boys,” Jason said, “shall we get your sister inside and feed her? And Emma, too?”

“Yes! I like cheeseburgers. Do you like cheeseburgers?” Duncan asked.

“I do! Who doesn’t, right?” Riley looked at Jamilah. “It’s great finally meeting you in person,” she said.

Jamilah surprised me by hugging her. “You, too, sweetheart. Don’t let these boys talk your ear off, okay? See you soon.”

She nodded to Jason, gave me a small smile and glided over to her Audi station wagon.

We were at Dockside, a restaurant where the views had always been better than the food. It hadn’t changed much—a casual place with the expected fake lobsters and starfish hanging from the walls. The boys were firing questions off at Riley—why was her skin so white? Her hair was so red! Did she skateboard? Did she like video games? Would she take them swimming? Riley was eating it up.