A Mother Would Know (46)

It was the best compliment he could have given me. Lots of boys told me I was pretty, but I wasn’t interested in hearing that. My dad told my mom she was pretty all the time, patting her condescendingly on the head. His good little wife, looking pretty on his arm, and taking care of him. I never heard him say that she was smart or talented. He didn’t even know that she had a creative side. Once, I found a few sketches she’d done tucked away in a junk drawer.

“Oh, they’re nothing.” She’d waved away my interest in them. “Just a silly hobby.”

But it wasn’t silly. She was good.

Too good to spend her days tending to my dad’s needs instead of her own.

I wanted a man who saw me as more than a pretty girl. I wanted someone who saw my talent.

“Thanks.” Smiling, I pushed the toe of my pump along the ground.

“What do you say? Wanna dance?” he asked, his arm sweeping out toward the dance floor.

“Sure.” His hands were strong on my back, and he smelled good, a cologne I couldn’t place. But I decided in that moment it was my favorite.

At the end of the night, I thought he might ask for my number, but he never did. Then he left with his parents, and I figured I’d never see him again. Sacramento is a large city. It was rare to bump into a friend or acquaintance at the store or out around town. What were the chances I’d run into him? I didn’t even know what part of town he lived in.

But then a month into junior college, we ran into each other in the quad at lunch. This time he did ask for my number. A year later, I got pregnant with Kendra. I had no one to blame but myself for that. I’d been frequenting open mic nights, Darren’s eyes bright with love and locked on mine as I sang, a second drink in his hand for me when I’d wrapped up, and I’d end up staying out so late I often forgot to take my pill in the morning. Some weeks I missed more than I took.

I didn’t know the first thing about babies. I’d never been a babysitter, except when pressed into service by my mother’s friends—and even they seemed to know I was only suited for short emergency errands. Even with my dolls, I never nurtured or cared for them. When other little girls were carrying their baby dolls and holding them close, I was lining mine up in rows to sing to, a makeshift audience.

I’d never wanted to be a mom. I wanted to be a star.

Despite that, I love my kids and I did the best I could. I only hope one day they’ll see that.

Finishing off the sandwich, I carry my empty plate to the sink and turn on the faucet. Water washes the crumbs away, leaving it clean, slick. I notice soil under a few of my nails as I put the plate into the dishwasher and wonder with an uneasy shiver where it came from. Then I remember that I’d spent the morning making a new succulent arrangement. After washing under my fingernails, I wipe my hand on a towel. The AC clicks on overhead. Goose bumps rise on my flesh. I head upstairs to grab a sweater. When I reach the top, I glance down into the living room. Bowie’s sound asleep in his bed near the piano, sunlight from the window glistening over his fur. He’s curled up, not a care in the world.

Must be nice.

Once inside my room, I look around, but my mind has gone blank. Why had I come in here? I rewind. Making a sandwich. Out of lunch meat. Right, I need to add that to my grocery list. But that’s in the kitchen. What did I need to do in my room?

I stand in the middle of the room, looking around and hoping something in here will jog my memory. Nothing does.

Buzzing comes from my pocket. I pull out my phone.

It’s Kendra.

“Hey, Mom. How is it going?”

“Good,” I say absently, still trying to figure out what I need in here.

“Have you had a chance to read that article I sent?”

Oh, shoot. The article about the correlation between memory and healthy eating. “No, not yet. But I will today. It’s actually perfect timing ’cause I need to go grocery shopping. I’ll read it this morning before finalizing my list.” I doubted there was anything on there that I didn’t already know, but I’d humor Kendra.

“Yeah, please read it. I think it’ll be helpful,” she says. “Anyway, I have to go in a minute. But I wanted to see if you could watch Mason on Monday.”

“Monday?” I hurry down the stairs and into the kitchen to look at the calendar. My doctor’s appointment is Tuesday, but I have nothing on Monday. “Yeah, that works.”

“Great. Theo will drop him off at like 7:30 in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure you write it down,” she says, but I already am.

“I did.”

“Good.” A pause. “Hudson’s working on Monday, right?”

An odd question, but I answer honestly. “Yes.”

“Cool.”

I hang up, wondering what that was about.

“Mom!” Kendra screamed my name so loudly, I was surprised the windows didn’t shatter. Her voice carried all the way down the stairs to where her dad and I were watching TV. Though it wasn’t loud enough to wake Darren, who was snoring away in the recliner. Exhaling, I stood, shoulders already tensing. I’d finally sat down to relax after a busy day. I didn’t appreciate the interruption. Slowly, I climbed the stairs. When I reached Kendra’s room, she pointed at her floor and said, “Look what Hudson did!”