Page 113 of Demo
I sit in my car for ten minutes, just looking at the familiar surroundings. The porch swing, the garden. Even though I didn’t “grow up” here, I still feel like a big part of me was shaped by this family and this house.
Finally turning the car off, I exit the vehicle just as Emily opens the front door. “Lizzie? How long have you been sitting out here?”
“I was just finishing up a call with my mom,” I half-lie. Then, assessing her in just a blue Star Wars T-shirt and jeans, chide her. “Emily, it’s like sixteen degrees out here. Put on a coat.”
“Girl, I’m sweating.” She throws her arms out to her sides, her huge belly protruding out in front of her as she waits for me to ascend the stairs and hug her. “Hurry up, I’m way too pregnant to be meeting you halfway,” she says as I close the distance as she pulls me into a hug, as if there isn’t a beach ball between us.
“Jeez Louise.” I pull back and assess her body. “Look at this thing.” I put my hands on the shirt stretched taut over her stomach. “It’s hard!” I gasp as the feeling.
“Yeah, I kinda forgot what it’s like, you know, from the last time,” she says as she rubs her hands around her belly ball. “Crazy, huh?”
“Definitely not normal.” Obviously, I never made it far enough in my pregnancy to know what it’s like to have an actual fully developed human inside. I keep poking her as I ask, “So, you’re due like, any day now, right?”
She lets out a breath and puts her hands on her lower back, looking like she’s supporting her weight. “Yes, and Samuel was early, so there’s a good chance this little bugger will be, too. And, honestly, I’m ready. I keep doing things like—” and then Emily drops down into a squat and pops back up “—this.”
“No, no. Don’t do that,” I say nervously, putting my hands out toward her, ready to help her off the ground if she gets stuck.
“And this,” she says as she does a few high knees on the porch. “Emily! I am not qualified to deliver a baby on the front porch, so please wait until Bram gets here to expel that thing, OK?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Anyway, is Samuel here?”
Emily shakes her head. “My mom took him to the movies.”
“Damn,” I say. I miss that kid. “What about Bram?” I continue, knowing he still, after all this time, doesn’t like being home without his mom here. “Is he around?”
“He’ll stop by after work. He said he’d text me when he and Knox leave, in case you didn’t want to be here when they get here.” She looks at me nervously. “I’m not sure how things are between you two, so …” Her trailing off indicates she wants to know.
I sigh. “I honestly have no idea how things are. Weird, I guess. Things are weird.”
“Hey,” she says, throwing her hands up. “I’d cut Bram’s balls off and keep them in a jar on my mantle if he, well, you know …” Again with the trailing off. This means she —like everyone—found out what Knox did, and she feels bad for me. Embarrassed for me, even.
I then hear Clyde come to the door. “Emily, stop hogging her!”
I walk right into Clyde’s open arms. “Hi, Dad,” I say, and damn if tears don’t threaten. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since Knox started sleeping on his couch.
“My son is the stupidest son of a bitch on the planet,” he says into my hair, and it causes me to laugh.
“No argument there,” I say.
We pull away from one another, and Clyde takes each of us by the hand. “It’s good to have both my girls here,” he says, pulling us inside. “Let’s get out of the arctic air, shall we?”
***
“Is this the one Knox made in elementary school?” I ask as I pull a wooden clothespin reindeer ornament out of a box and hold it up. The eyes are uneven, and the red puff nose is off to the side.
“No,” Emily answers before Clyde can. “Bram made that one. This,” she holds up another ornament, “is one Knox made.” It’s a little log house made from shaved down popsicle sticks, with pieces of tree bark as the roof and toothpicks outlining the windows and door. Tiny pebbles are glued to the edges to give it detail. It’s beautiful.
Taking it from Emily, Clyde inspects it. “He’s always been a talented little shit.”
That gets a laugh out of all of us.
“Anyone want tea?” Emily asks as she starts to waddle her way out of the living room and toward the kitchen. “My stomach is a little …” She puts her hand out and teeters it this way and that, indicating it’s a little upset. “I think tea might help.”
“I’ll get it,” Clyde says as he jumps up. “You sit!”
“Oh stop!” Emily waves him off. “I need to move.”
