“And you’re stupid,” Casey said. “So stuff it.”
“Casey,” Mrs. Melvin said in a tired voice, “please.”
I turned my attention back to the TV, where I could see the entire Action News Team paired off at their two sets of desks. Charlie Baker and Tess Phillips on one side, grimly shuffling papers as we came back from a commercial; and off to the other, my father and Lorna, smiling and whispering to each other. My father had even more hair than the last time I’d seen him. He’d never had that much, even when I was little. Lorna was beside him, hands crossed on the desk in front of her.
“And now for the weather, let’s check in with Lorna Queen’s Weather Scene,” Charlie Baker boomed in his big voice while the camera panned across to Lorna’s smiling face. She stood up, today in a hot-pink miniskirt and jacket, and strolled over to the weather map.
“Thanks, Charlie. Today was gorgeous, right, folks? I wish I could tell you there was more of the same coming, but we haven’t quite gotten over the heat yet. Let’s take a look at the national map. You’ll see that a front is moving over the mid-Atlantic states, producing some heavy showers....”
I tuned Lorna out, instead watching her gesture her way across the fifty states, sweeping her arm over the map as if she could create showers or drought on a whim. I wondered if anyone ever really listened to her at all.
Now she was standing in front of the Five Day Forecast. “... right up until Tuesday, but I’ve got to say I can’t promise much for Wednesday through Friday. Look for some high cloud cover, the normal afternoon thunderstorm, and of course high temperatures and Charlie’s favorite, lots of humidity. Right, Charlie?”
The camera panned back to Charlie, who was caught playing with his pencil and mumbled something quickly before it zoomed back to Lorna. Now she was standing in front of a video of a bunch of children chasing bunny rabbits across the grass. “And finally, I just wanted to thank all the kids at the Little Ones day-care center, where I went today to do a Weather Scene Class. We talked about rain and snow and had some fun with the bunnies they have there, as you can see. Great kids.” She waved at the camera. “A special hello to all of them. Thanks for having me!”
“Good God,” Casey said dramatically, rolling her eyes.
“Casey,” Mrs. Melvin said, throwing the peeler in the sink.
“I’m just saying.”
Lorna was done waving now and took her seat next to my father again. Charlie Baker shuffled his papers around, looking official, and then said, “Thanks, Lorna. I’m looking forward to that humidity you promised me.”
“A little late to get in on that joke,” Casey said. “He’s such a cheeseball.”
Tess Phillips leaned across Charlie Baker, smiling her newswoman smile. “And I understand you have a special report of your own over there, Lorna.”
Lorna blushed, pinkly, and I got that sinking feeling in my stomach again. “Well, yes, both Mac and I do. Right, honey?”
“That’s right,” my father said. He seemed bigger with all that hair.
“We’re expecting!” Lorna squealed. “I’m due in March!”
On the television, in the Action News newsroom, there was an explosion of congratulations, slapping of backs, and general good spirits. In the Melvins’ kitchen it was too quiet and everyone was suddenly looking at me.
“Expecting?” Casey said. “How is that possible? The wedding was less than a month ago; there’s no way she could already be pregnant. Unless it happened before, but . . .”
“Casey,” Mrs. Melvin said in a low voice. “Hush.”
I stared at my father on the screen, watching him smile proudly at the viewing public before they cut to a commercial. Suddenly I wanted to go home.
“God, Haven. Why didn’t you tell me?” Casey was standing behind me now, her hand on the back of my chair.
“Look, I better get going.” I kept my eyes on the commercial for satellite dishes. Baby Ronald stomped his figures across the table, staging a war by the sugar bowl.
“I’ll walk you,” Casey said.
“No,” I said quickly. “That’s all right. I’ll call you later.”
“You okay?”
I could feel Mrs. Melvin, mouth of the neighborhood, watching me and taking notes for the next neighborhood gossip session. “Fine. I just forgot I had to be home.”
“Okay, well, call me.” She walked me to the door, holding it open as I stepped out onto the patio. “Seriously. I’m like a prisoner here.” Mrs. Melvin still had her eyes on me, eggplant in her hand.
“I’ll call.” I started down the driveway, sucking in the thick, humid air of late summer, heavy in my lungs. It was late afternoon and all the kids were out, bike punks and Big Wheels, and mothers with strollers grouped on the corner, no doubt passing the latest about nervous breakdowns and tuna casseroles and failing marriages, the goods on the neighborhood. I made it to the end of the driveway and hit the sidewalk, feeling each step in my shins as if by the sheer force of pounding my feet on the ground I could force the world out from under me.
As I walked I kept seeing my father in my mind, with his hair and that smile, proud and bursting, father-to-be. Lorna Queen with her little ears and blond hair. A baby with my father’s round face and my last name. My father’s new life was progressing as planned, one neat step at a time. And I felt it, again, that same feeling I got whenever another change or shift in my life was announced to me—selling the house, Ashley’s tantrums, now the baby—that need to dig in my heels and prepare myself for the next shock and its aftermath. I was tired of hanging on, taking the torn pieces to make something whole with them.