Matthew pounds me warmly on the arm. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.”
Then Mackenzie walks into the room. She’s taller than the last time you saw her-she’ll most likely get to five feet ten by the time she’s done growing. Her hair’s still long and blond with a slight curl; she’s wearing blue jeans, Converse sneakers, and a pink Yankees jersey. She’s a month shy of nine now-in this day and age, that’s practically a preteen.
Mackenzie is a masterpiece-and I take full credit.
She’s polite, brilliant, feminine-but not in a screechy afraid-of-spiders way. She watches sports-not to get the attention of some little prick, but because she knows what a two-point conversion and a technical foul are. She paints her nails and plays guitar. She’s confident but kind. Best of all, she takes shit from no one. Yeah-that’s all me.
Even though I have my own son now, she was the first. The only girl. A piece of my heart will always, always belong to her.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
She jumps up and throws herself into my arms. I spin her around.
“Hi, Uncle Drew! I didn’t know you were here.”
“Just got here. I like your shirt.”
Then, from down the hall, I hear Steven and Alexandra going at it. And not in a good way.
“I told you to put him in his crate!”
“I was going to but-“
“Going to isn’t doing! I should’ve just done it myself-like everything else around here.”
“Can you give the martyr complex a rest, please?”
They’ve been like this lately. Tense. Strained. We’ve all noticed. It happens-live with someone long enough, they’re bound to get on your fucking nerves. My sister’s nag-athons don’t exactly make it easy. But Steven’s always known what she’s like, and he worshipped her anyway.
Until now.
It’s his tone that bothers me the most. He sounds tired. Worn-out. Fed up.
Mackenzie gazes at the floor.
I grasp her chin and tilt her face up. “How’s it been around here?”
She sighs. “Dramatic.”
I glance down the hall. “Yeah, I’m sensing that.”
“That’s parents for you.” She shrugs. “Can’t live with ’em, but emancipation is a costly and complicated process.”
I chuckle. “You know my door’s always open, right? There’s a spare room with your name on it.”
She glances at Thomas. “But that would leave Thomas holding down the fort. He’s just a little kid.”
“And what are you?”
Blue eyes stare up at me-wise beyond their years. “I’m the big sister.”
I lean over and kiss her forehead. Then I whisper, “This weekend will be good for them, I promise. Like a mini vacation. And I’ll talk to them-knock their heads together.”
She gives me a soft smile, as if she appreciates my effort but doesn’t quite believe it’ll do any good. “Okay, Uncle Drew.”
Matthew walks over, oblivious of everything but Mackenzie. “There’s my girl!”
She looks back at him and the smile free-falls from her face. She raises her nose and folds her arms. Did you feel the temperature drop? That’d be from my niece’s cold shoulder.
“Mr. Fisher, how nice to see you again. You’re looking well.”
Matthew groans and drops to his knees. Even though he’s over six foot, with a boxer’s frame, he looks almost diminutive when faced with my niece’s displeasure. “Mackenzie, you’re killing me, baby.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
He pushes a frustrated hand through his light brown hair. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”
“Forgive you? For what? For depriving me of growing up with female companionship? For leaving me wallowing in a forest of penises? Is that what I should forgive you for, Mr. Fisher?”
Having babies is contagious-like mono. Once a friend or a relative has one, everyone wants one just like it. At Thanksgiving dinner, the year after James was born, Matthew and Dee-Dee announced that they were having a baby. That they were adopting a baby.
Brangelina? Get it now?
After they proclaimed their intentions, everyone was happy for them.
Well . . . almost everyone:
“What do you mean, you’re adopting a baby?” asks Frank Fisher, as he sits at the dining-room table of my parents’ country house on Thanksgiving Day.
Still holding his wife’s hand, Matthew faces his father. “What do you mean, what do I mean? We’re adopting a little boy! The paperwork is filed, and we’re waiting on the final approval, but the agency says that’s just a formality. Dee and I have passed all the big hurdles. He’s almost two months old-he’s healthy and gorgeous.” Matthew turns to Estelle. “I can’t wait for you to see him, Mom.”
Estelle beams back at her son with budding tears of joy. But Frank asks, “Is something wrong with your wife? Is she barren?”
Matthew’s smile falters. Before he can answer, Delores retorts, “No, Frank, I’m not barren. This is something Matthew and I have talked about doing since we were married.”
Frank wipes his mouth with his cloth napkin, tosses it down on his plate, and pushes back from the table. The air shifts-like a summer afternoon when the sun is shining, but the wind picks up and you can feel the storm that’s about to burst over your head.
“Why the hell would you want to raise a child that isn’t yours, Matthew?”
My best friend frowns. “Because he will be ours.”
“No,” Frank argues, “that’s my point-he won’t be. You have no idea where this kid comes from, what kind of garbage his real parents are. He could grow up to have mental problems, health issues-and you’ll be stuck dealing with that for the rest of your life.”
Although part of me suspects my father agrees with him, he still tries to get Frank to lighten up. “That’s a defeatist view, Frank. Cases like that are rare when you look at the millions of children who are adopted each year.”
By this time I’m on my feet, positioning myself closer to Matthew. Because I suspect this pot is about to boil the fuck over. In looks, Matthew resembles his father, but in personality he takes more after Estelle. Not much bothers him-he has a long fuse. But when he blows? It’s like the finale at the Macy’s fireworks extravaganza.
Then Frank does the one thing that’s sure to light Matthew’s fuse: he lays into Dee-Dee. “This is your doing, isn’t it? You and your liberal, new age bullshit!”
“Frank, please,” Estelle pleads softly.
“You’re too self-centered to take time from your career to fulfill your duties as a wife.”
“My duties?” Delores shouts from behind Matthew. “What year are you living in, Frank?”
“Doesn’t matter the year-a woman is a woman, and a mother is a mother. Unless she physically can’t, a good woman gives her husband children. If you’re not up to the task, young lady, then my son would be smart to replace you with a woman who is.”
Hello, shit. Meet fan.
Matthew steps forward, the urge to put his father right through my mother’s professionally painted mural wall written all over his face. “Don’t ever fucking talk to her like that again!”
I grab Matthew’s shoulder, holding him back. “C’mon, buddy, let’s take a walk outside.”
He shrugs me off.
In a lifeless voice Delores says, “I’d like to go home now. Matthew, can we please go?”
He looks over his shoulder at her crestfallen face, and even though none of this is his fault, remorse is in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we’re leaving.”
He turns to me-because Matthew and Delores drove up with me, Kate, and James in our new Escalade.
I nod. “Kate-get the baby’s stuff. I’ll get our coats.”
Looking as if she wants to plunge her stiletto into Dee’s father-in-law’s forehead, Kate agrees. She brings Delores with her to gather our son and his gear. Estelle wrings her hands and weeps silently.
Frank just won’t let it frigging go. “When this blows up in your face, Matthew, don’t come crying to me.”
Matthew replies with a mixture of anger and hurt, “Don’t worry-I would never fucking consider it.” He glances at his mother. “Sorry, Mom.” Then he walks out of the room and I’m right behind him.
The ride home is quiet. James falls asleep before we hit the highway. My friend and his wife hold hands in the backseat, whispering apologies and reassurances to each other.
Delores cries.
I don’t like it. It makes her seem so . . . human.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.