The Year We Turned Forty (10 page)

“Sounds good. I look forward to meeting the little man,” Colin said. “Oh, and your dad called about an hour ago.”

Gabriela smiled at the thought of seeing her father's round face. He'd squeeze her the same way he had since she was little. She could swear he still saw her as a sixteen-year-old girl. And that was okay with Gabriela. She had always been in constant awe that he was able to recover from Gabriela's mother's death in a way she never could. She decided she'd call him back first thing tomorrow.

As Gabriela and Colin walked into the baby boutique an hour later, she was almost afraid to touch the chenille blankets and the adorable pacifiers, hoping that being there wouldn't be too much for them. She stopped and picked up a polka-dot onesie, marveling at how small it was. She rubbed the soft fabric against her cheek, wondering what joy or pain the next year would bring.

Claire sat in the driver's seat of her champagne-tinted Honda Accord, picking at the peeling leather on the steering wheel as she replayed the conversation she'd just had with Jessie. The hot June sun was beating through the front window, and the skin on her cheeks grew warm as she stared at the stucco building, picturing Jessie still walking laps around the maternity ward, her printed hospital gown flapping behind her as she pumped her arms. Her frenetic energy had reminded Claire of Emily on her fourth birthday, dancing around their living room after she'd eaten a giant piece of vanilla cake, the remnants of thick bubble-gum-pink frosting lining her lips. Today, Claire had shuffled alongside Jessie, nodding with a smile as she rambled in a hushed voice about how this was the most exciting opportunity any of them had
ever
had. But as Claire listened to words like
magical
and
life changing
and
second chances
, she felt the knot in her stomach tightening. She didn't agree.
Life wasn't meant to be played like a game of chess, moving the people you love like pawns to win the game.

Claire turned the key and the car coughed and sputtered before finally roaring to life. When she'd started it at her house earlier, she'd been shocked by how familiar the loud sound of the transmission had been, even though she hadn't heard it in a decade; it had finally given out just before she'd turned forty-one. She was instantly reminded of calling AAA because she was stuck—always somewhere hugely inconvenient, like the parking lot of Ralph's grocery store on a hot day, as the dairy products she'd already loaded into her trunk soured while she dialed the number on the back of her membership card. Or worse, when she'd strand herself and her clients while showing a property, watching helplessly as their confidence in her fell with each turn of the ignition, most likely wondering why their real estate agent couldn't close enough deals to afford a Lexus. After the Honda's transmission finally died, she'd taken it as a sign, marching into the dealership and begrudgingly leasing a new car, only to discover that the beautiful midnight-blue sedan really didn't help her commissions at all, it only added to the monthly bills she was already struggling to pay.

As she drove toward her mom and dad's house to pick up Emily, her breath quickened and she willed both her nerves and her battered automobile to hold it together. Her dad would be easy. But seeing her mother and her daughter for the first time was going to be difficult. Her relationship with each was so complicated.

As they'd circled around the nurses' station during their walk earlier, Jessie had asked Claire if she was excited to see Emily as a twelve-year-old again.
Remember those knobby knees of hers?
she'd said as she offered a sympathetic smile to a new mom being wheeled toward the exit, her baby nuzzled against her chest and a look of panic in her eyes. Of course Claire
remembered Emily's knees, and her lanky body, and the braces that never failed to surprise her when Emily opened her mouth, Claire always seeing her as a seven-year-old with two missing front teeth, and marveling at how fast she was growing up, her face and body in a perpetual state of change.

She wasn't sure she was ready to see her daughter that way again. She didn't know if she had the strength to relive this year, to parent a tween, which had felt like wading out into the ocean when the waves were fast and steady, fighting the undercurrent that threatened to pull her down at any moment.

She wasn't excited to remind Emily to set her alarm for school, to ask her if she'd finished her homework, to try and pry information out of her about the goings-on of middle school, all while Emily offered only mumbled yeses and nos. When she'd mentioned this concern to Jessie, she'd grabbed Claire by the shoulder and shook her softly, as if she was trying to wake her up from a nap.

“I know you're not looking forward to reliving the bad things, but you can change how it all turns out this time, we all can. We're getting a do-over!”

Claire chewed on the side of her lip as she thought of her mom and Emily. Even with the gift of hindsight she wasn't sure she could significantly alter anything, and more important, she wasn't sure she could handle it if she failed again. “That's not why
I
agreed to come back here. I did it so
you
and Gabriela could have a second chance.”

“So that's it? You're going to sit on the sidelines while we try to fix our lives? It's not just Emily who needs you, you know.” Jessie let her words hang in the sterilized air, nodding at a nurse passing by in pastel pink scrubs, squeezing Claire's hand.

Grant's eyes lit up when he saw Jessie reenter the room,
the innocence and joy reflected in them making Claire wonder if change really was possible. She'd always told herself it was Emily's stubborn personality that had shaped her choices. But there had been a small voice in her head, whispering to her late at night, that maybe things would've been different if she hadn't acquiesced when she should have stood her ground.

As Claire exited the 134 freeway, she felt her heartbeat quickening, like she was heading to a first date, and hoping that the guy even slightly resembled his profile photo and wouldn't visibly flinch when she mentioned she was a single mom. She'd learned right away it wasn't something you should
wait
to reveal—like your dating history or your desire to get married—after she'd gone on three dates with a man she really liked, before finally working up the courage to say she had a little girl. He'd been stunned, stammering through an explanation about how he wasn't ready to be a dad, fumbling as he tossed some cash onto the table and giving her a weak apology before leaving. She'd ordered a shot of whiskey, sipping it and feeling terrible as she tried to pretend she didn't have someone at home who relied on her for survival.

Walking through the front door of her parents' condo in Glendale, Claire removed her shoes and placed them next to her mom's gardening clogs. Her heart caught in her chest and she reached down to pick one of them up. Was she ready to see her after all this time? Through therapy, she'd finally accepted everything that had happened, that things had turned out the way they were supposed to. And now here Claire was, about to see her when she never thought she would have the chance again. Claire hugged the forest-green clog to her chest and beelined for her mom, finding her in the kitchen and hugging her tightly.

“Mom!” Claire buried her head in Mona's shoulder and sobbed into the soft lavender smock she always wore when she was tending to her herbs out back.

“Are you crying? And why are you holding my Croc?” Mona pulled back and Claire quickly wiped her tears, surveying the peeling wallpaper where the walls met the ceiling, the yellow refrigerator that was practically as old as Claire, and Shaggy, her parents' golden retriever, sleeping soundly under the dining room table.

Claire nodded. “It's just so good to see you,” she said, taking in her mom's short silver locks pulled back in a ponytail that she'd secured with a rubber band meant for binding papers, not hair. Claire reached up to touch it, remembering the times she'd scolded her for not using the proper elastic.

“I know what you're going to say, but my hair is sixty-two years old; a little breakage won't matter,” Mona said, rolling her eyes.

“You're right, who cares what you pull your hair back with.” Claire smiled, her eyes filling with tears again.

Mona put her hand on her daughter's forehead. “You just admitted I'm right? Okay, now I know something's definitely wrong with you!” Mona grabbed Claire's upper arms and gave her a once-over. God, how she had hated when her mom did that, Claire always desperate to know the thoughts in her head as she appraised her, if she was passing a test she didn't know she was supposed to take. She would swallow hard and cross her arms over her body, wishing she didn't so desperately want the approval of a woman who seemed so reluctant to give it. Only later would she learn that her mom had meant nothing by this, that she loved Claire more than she ever gave her credit for. But by then it had been too late to reciprocate. “You look tired. Did you get any sleep last night?”

Images of her and Mason intertwined under her floral comforter flashed through her mind, and Claire suppressed a guilty smile.

“You're flushed, sit down.” Mona guided Claire to a wooden spindle chair and filled a glass with tap water. “Drink.”

Claire obeyed, letting the cool liquid rush down her throat while reaching down to pet Shaggy. She ran her fingers through his soft fur, remembering when he'd passed away in his sleep when he was fifteen. She bent down and kissed him and studied her mom. Claire noticed the blue circles outlining her eyes and her frail body beneath her smock, which appeared oversized. Mona had taken up golf and had been walking more in the past year, but it was more than that; now she could see the weight was vanishing in places it shouldn't have been.

“Do you have a picture of the baby?” Mona asked as she sat next to Claire.

Claire held out her phone to her mom, who frowned as she studied a photo of Jessie and Lucas. Claire already knew what her mom was thinking, and rightfully so. Mona was surprised at how happy Jessie looked. And that was an emotion Jessie hadn't shown much in the months leading up to Lucas' birth.

“I'm glad to see her smiling. I figured once the little one arrived, she'd come around,” Mona said finally. “Motherhood is complicated.”

Claire nodded. She and her mom were never as close as Claire had wanted them to be. She'd always felt surges of jealousy whenever Gabriela talked about her mom. In the sixteen years Gabriela knew her mother, she'd been closer to her than Claire had ever felt to Mona. That just wasn't Mona's way. She wasn't a nurturer, she was more of a guide, wanting Claire to stumble so she could teach herself how not to fall. Claire had learned from the hours
of sitting on the soft leather couch across from her therapist that by trying so hard to please Emily, she was trying to manufacture a relationship like the one she'd wanted to have with Mona. Claire had become the lenient, easygoing mom she'd always wished she'd had, but she'd been too eager, trying to engage Emily in topics like boys or music, and was often met with eye rolls.

“Speaking of the complications of motherhood, where's Em?” Claire quipped.

“Finishing up her math homework,” Mona answered proudly, and Claire knew by her satisfied smile what she was thinking, that Emily had given her no resistance, had done exactly as she was told, because she was with Grandma. And it was true, she did listen to Claire's mom—because Mona was willing to say no to the things Emily asked for, unlike Claire, who tragically underused the word.

“What took you so long?” Emily shot as she walked into the kitchen.

“Hi!” Claire chimed, ignoring Emily's accusatory tone and throwing her arms around her daughter, then stepping back and looking at her before squeezing her hard again.

“Okay, weirdo!” Emily said, wriggling from her grasp.

“Whoa, Jessie's new baby has made your mother quite emotional!” Mona said. “Are you running a baby fever?”

Claire laughed lightly and swatted her mom's hand away. “It's just so good to see you, Em,” Claire said as she took in her daughter's loose-fitting jeans and Converses. She was still so young, so naïve. Maybe she could help Emily hold on to that innocence a little longer this time around.

“You're late. I was supposed to meet Anna at the mall,” Emily whined, pressing her hand into her hip, and Claire's neck immediately stiffened.

Anna
. Claire released an audible sigh, a visual of the wispy girl with white-blond hair and a row of perfect teeth freshly released from their braces coming to mind. Claire thought back to meeting her for the first time, smiling as Anna offered pleases and thank-yous to Claire at every turn, even asking to help with the dishes from their after-school snack. Claire later lingered outside Emily's room to listen in on them talking about a boy they both thought was cute. “I'd hit that,” Anna said, and cackled loudly. Claire had flinched and grabbed the doorjamb, unsure whether to burst into the room and mortify her daughter or pretend she hadn't heard it. She'd chosen the latter, telling herself Anna was just going for shock value, repeating something she'd heard on TV. But over the next year, Anna proved to be problematic, interested in pushing every boundary and determined to take Emily with her. Claire finally had to forbid Emily from hanging out with her. This time, she'd stop that friendship in its tracks immediately.

But as she looked at Emily's pouty lips, she felt the familiar rise of guilt.

“I'm sorry.” Claire uttered the beginning of an apology. But then, as a smile appeared on her daughter's lips, Claire thought of Anna again and the hell she'd gone through with Emily. Because she'd wanted to be a friend when she should've been a mom. She had to be different this time, or why did she bother coming back at all? She could tell herself it was only for Gabriela and Jessie, but deep down she did have some hope she could make her own life and Emily's better too.