Page 28
Because that can easily be erased from my memory.
Although. . . I wonder if Jess, Nathan, and Miranda are okay. If you want to get technical about it, I did ditch them tonight.
29
***
Sarah gave birth to Isaac when she was ninety years old and her husband, Abraham, was one hundred years old (Genesis 17:17). I hope my mom and Marc arent going to keep having kids until theyre that old.
***
I love weekends. Especially when I dont have any homework and my boyfriend is in town.
In the morning, I walk out of my bedroom wearing a black, extra-small wrap shirt that shows off way too much cleavage. Jess and I both bought one last winter when they were the hottest fashion, but we were too embarrassed to wear them in public.
During breakfast, I make a big production out of bending down to pour Avi cereal. Hes not looking; every time I check his eyes are focused on his food. I keep bringing him stuff. . . bread, hummus, orange juice. He looks at my face, but definitely not my cleavage. Whats up with that?
When my dad walks into the kitchen, he takes one look at me and slaps his hands over his eyes. "Amy, wheres the rest of your shirt?"
"This is it. "
"Um. . . no. No. No. No. It doesnt cover your. . . parts. " He points to Avi. "Close your eyes. " He shakes the same finger at me, but still has one hand over his eyes. "Go back in your room and put on something VERY conservative. That covers those girl things. "
Avis shoulders are shaking and I think he just spit out his cereal from trying to cover up his laughter.
I huff in frustration and look at my boyfriend. "Did you not notice my boobs practically hanging out?"
Avi looks from me to my dad. "Um. . . is this a talk we should be having in front of your aba!"
My dad holds up his hands, stopping the conversation. "This is a conversation that should not be happening at all. Amy, Im calling your mom. After you change your shirt. This is out of my jurisdiction. "
I change, then have to deal with my mom and dad talking on the phone about me for fifteen minutes.
"I noticed them, Amy," Avi says as I plunk myself back down at the kitchen table.
"Well, you werent staring at em," I say accusingly.
"I didnt know you wanted me to. "
Hes got me there. Usually I hate people staring at my over-abundance of frontage that God "blessed me with" (my moms phrase, not mine). Avi knows this. I know Im being ridiculous and not making any sense.
"If it makes you feel any better, when you turned away I couldnt take my eyes off them. "
Even though I know this entire conversation is ridiculous, I say, "Thank you, Avi. "
He gives me one of his signature half-smiles. "Its all sababa. "
"Yeah," I say. "It is. "
After my mom has a "talk" with me over the phone about private parts remaining private, I drag Avi to the Museum of Science and Industry. Its my favorite museum, especially the dead baby exhibit. Okay, so technically its called the neonatal exhibit, showcasing embryos and fetuses in formaldehyde. Ive always been fascinated with the exhibit: seeing how human life starts as a speck and ends up a real person. Total miracle, I cant describe it any other way.
Makes you believe in God all over again.
I thought Avi would be bored looking at the dead babies, but when I glance over at him and catch him riveted to the exhibit I know he feels the same way about it that I do. As I study the stages of development, my heart goes out to the mothers of these children who werent able to grow up. They lost their lives before life even started. But theyre doing more for people than most do in a lifetime, surely more than Ive done in my seventeen years. Theyve made people more educated, theyve made people aware of what its like inside of a womans body as shes pregnant with a child, and they even bring people closer to God.
Avi takes my hand in his as we stop at each stage of development and study the fetuses. Theyre labeled as male or female (even identical twins are labeled) and how many weeks old they are.
Avi puts his hand up to the glass, right in front of the fetus that looks fully developed except its so small. "Ive never seen anything like this," he says.
I know its not everyones favorite exhibit, and if you really think about it its kind of creepy. But it makes me feel good knowing Ive shared it with Avi and he appreciates it as much as I do. Maybe one day. . .
I look over at Avi. He smiles. I can tell hes thinking the same thing.
In the afternoon, I take him along with Mutt to my moms house. I cant have Avi go back to Israel without meeting the other half of my nuclear family, although Im not sure how Marc and Mom will act around him. And now that weve just seen the neonatal exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry, I hope my mom being pregnant doesnt freak Avi out.
As soon Mom sees Mutt, she says, "Do you have to bring the animal?" she says.
"Mom, you have a yard he can run in. He loves your yard. "
Since Im keeping Mutt on an extender leash at the park so he doesnt impregnate anyone elses dog, my moms place is like Freedom City for him.
"Last time you didnt pick up all of his poop, Amy. Marc stepped in a little present last week. "
Way to go, Mutt! "Sorry, Mom," I try and say sincerely, although in the back of my head I think God had something to do with it. Bshert, right? Meant to be.
"Amy, dont tell me youre sorry. Tell Marc. "
After I let Mutt loose in the backyard, my mom says, "Im going to assume youre Avi. "
Avi gives her one of his killer smiles, putting on the Avi charm, and shakes her hand. My heart flips over because I know hes doing it for me, that its important to him that my mom likes him. And maybe because hes lost some brownie points with my dad after last night and he wants to rack some up with my mom before he leaves. Smart guy.
"So, how old are you again?" Mom asks as she pats down her model blonde hair. If I didnt know better, Id think my mom was trying to rack up brownie points with Avi.
Amy, dont go off on her. Shes not embarrassing you on purpose. Wait to interfere when she pulls out the naked baby pictures.
"Eighteen," Avi replies.
"And youre in the Israeli army?"
"Yes. "
My mom sits down at the kitchen table and says, "So. . . what do you do there?"
"Mom, hes training to be a commando," I say, interrupting. "He cant tell you what he does all day. "
"Do you shoot guns?"
Avi looks from me to my mom and back. "When we have to," he says.
I need a Coke. This is harder than I thought. I open the refrigerator, but theres no Coke. . . no Diet Coke, no Cherry Coke, no Vanilla Coke. Theres not even a Coke Zero. "Uh, Mom, wheres the Coke?"
"We dont have any in the house. Its not good for the baby," she says, then touches her stomach.
As I stare at her hand caressing her abdomen, I think about the neonatal exhibit we saw today. For the first time, I can picture what my little brother or sister looks like right now. The size of my fist. . . or maybe even smaller.
Marc stumbles into the kitchen, introduces himself to Avi, and the two shake hands. "Do you play golf?" Marc asks, then sneezes into a handkerchief he just pulled from his pocket.
"No. Soccers my sport," Avi says, then looks to me. I shrug, confused. Does Marc want to go hit a few at the range with Avi to test his skill with a club? Or is he desperately trying to have a manly sports conversation or, scarier yet, a sports competition?
"Why dont you boys see if theres a soccer game on TV while Amy helps me set the table?"
"I can help, too," Avi says.
"Go ahead," I say and push him gently out of the kitchen. I need private time to gossip about him with my mom.
While Marc and Avi settle into the living room, my mom and I set the table. Mom is smiling wide and staring at me as if I just got engaged or something. "Hes adorable," she says. "I can see how you can be so hung up on him. "
Hung up on him? Im a little more than hung up on him, Im full blown in love with the guy and even being one room away I realize is too far for me. I dont even want to think about tomorrow, when I have to drive him to the airport and watch a plane taking off with him inside.
Staring at the fresh flowers in the middle of the kitchen table, I say, "Mom, how many times have you been in love?"
"How many times did I think I was in love or how many times have I really been in love?"
"How do you know the difference?"
"You dont. Well, not at the time youre having the feelings. I was in love with Danny Peterson in high school; we dated my junior and senior year. "
"What happened with Danny?"
"I caught him kissing Shayna Middleton under the bleachers during gym class. Guess he didnt love me as much as I loved him. Then there was your dad. "
Deep in my moms blue eyes I detect sadness. "Why didnt you marry him, Mom? I know he wanted to marry you, but you wouldnt. "
She wrings her hands together on the table. "My parents . . . your grandparents. . . they didnt think your father was good for me. He was a foreigner, someone who might leave me and go back to Israel or who knows where. Or marry me just for citizenship and leave me. "
"Do you wish things were different?" I ask. I mean, if she married my dad when she got pregnant then I wouldnt have to deal with a sneezing stepdad and my parents wouldnt live miles away from each other. Wed be a whole family, not a broken one.
She says softly, "To be honest. . . no. It would have never worked between your father and me. Hes married to his work, and I need a man wholl pay attention to me. Marc maneuvers his work schedule around me, not the other way around. "
A little piece of hope in my chest disappears with her words. Every birthday I prayed my parents would get together--every penny I threw into fountains, every time I blew an eyelash off of my finger. Now I realize all the hoping and praying wasnt going to change the course of things. There are some things I cant change, after all.
"Do you wish youd never had me?" I say with a lump in my throat.
Her eyes go wide, "No! Amy, I wouldnt change having you for anything in the world. "
"Mom, I was a mistake. Face it, you didnt mean to get pregnant in college on a one-night stand. "
"Lets just say you werent expected. But there was no way I was giving you up and when I held you in my arms the first time after giving birth to you, I cried so hard. . . from happiness, Amy. Because Id never known how much I wanted you until I held you. From that moment on, you had my heart. I know I havent been the best mom. Ive grown up while raising you and made many mistakes. "
We all make mistakes. "I have, too. " But Im trying to mend them.
Will my dad ever maneuver his work around a woman? Yeah, maybe when hes a hundred years old and is forced to slow down. I need to find out why he works so much, what drives him to put his personal life second to his work life.
"Im sorry, Amy," Mom says, giving me a puppy dog look Mutt would be proud of. "I wish I could have given you the family youve always wanted. "
I smile warmly and stop her hands from wringing by putting my hands over hers. "Its okay, Mom. For the first time in my life, I understand. "