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We walked back to the house together. “I want to apologize for not trusting you,” she said.
“It’s okay,” I squeezed her in a side hug. “You were just doing what you thought was best.”
“I really thought you had a drug problem and that I had to do that ‘tough love’ stuff.” She sighed. “I should have just listened to you.”
“You didn’t know,” I allowed. “I don’t know how I would have reacted if it was my child.”
She smiled. “Hopefully you’ll never have a chance to find out.”
I assumed she meant that hopefully my child would never go to prison, not that I would never have a child. I held the door open for her and followed her into the kitchen, dropping my lunch on the table.
“Speaking of that, I have something to tell you,” I said.
Mom turned to face me, curiosity shining in her eyes.
“Tammy’s pregnant.”
Mom clapped her hands to her jaw, her face going from impassive to awestruck in a matter of seconds. She waved me into a hug, laughing and crying at the same time. I felt joy uncurl in my belly, along with a sharp sliver of guilt. Here was my mom, so excited to be a grandmother, and I had been such a tool. I could see her head fill up with Christmases and birthdays, with Easter egg hunts and Sunday breakfasts. She would want to fill her phone with pictures of the child to share with every friend, customer, and stranger she came across. In two words, I had brought unimaginable joy to her life. I stood awkwardly, waiting for her to calm down.
“Have you told your father?” Mom asked, breathless.
I shook my head. “Just you.”
“Okay, well.” She settled into a chair, overwhelmed with the news. “We’ll have to plan a baby shower. You’ll have to get married. Where are you going to register?”
“Mom.” I sank down beside her, the weight of all the things she had just said cracking my resolve. “I don’t think we’re there yet.”
“What do you mean, you’re not there yet?” Her voice took on an acidic quality that reminded me of the mom of a week ago.
“I don’t even know if it’s mine,” I said.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she snipped.
“Okay,” I tried again. “What if the pregnancy test is wrong?”
She drew in a breath. “You’re right. Of course, we should make a doctor’s appointment.”
“Tammy should make a doctor’s appointment,” I said.
Mom put both her hands over one of mine, staring into my eyes as if I were still a child. “If she told you the baby is yours, then it is. You are partners in this, so you need to go with her to every appointment you can. It will be a big adjustment, but I think you’re ready.”
“Really?”
It was good to hear her say that. In the back of my mind, the demon of doubt had been questioning my ability to parent a child. I enjoyed making Nicky and Daisy laugh, and I had even held Mary Ellen, but was I really cut out for a baby of my own? Just because you got a girl pregnant didn’t make you father material. I didn’t know the first thing about changing diapers or spoon-feeding an infant. But to hear my mom express her faith that I would come out on top was really encouraging. She should know. Maybe it would be alright—maybe Tammy and I would be good parents.
“Where is Tammy now?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, reaching for the lunch.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” she asked again, like she was hard of hearing.
“I don’t know where she is,” I repeated. “I left without saying good morning.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I was angry,” I admitted.
“Why?” she gasped. It never occurred to her to be anything but excited at the prospect of a pregnancy.
