A DIFFERENT WAY

Mae is on edge. She paces, lights a cigarette, refills her coffee mug, gags and upchucks. Black clouds roil, thunder claps and suddenly the sky unzips and torrents fall. Her two young children run inside as if the thunder was a machine gun. They let the door slam. ‘Darn it, you two have been fighting again. I can tell. Stop it, stop it or I’m telling Daddy.’ They ignore her. Harvey kicks Margie. She kicks him back. ‘Stop it NOW!’ Mae manages to get one quivering hand on each child, drags them to the kitchen and plops them down at opposite ends of the table. ‘Harvey, apologize to your sister. I don’t care what the fight was about. Apologize.’ ‘No, I won’t.’ ‘O.K., don’t. You’ll be sorry when Daddy comes home. Get out of my sight.’

Mae lights another cig and sits staring out the window. It is incredulous. The sky is blue. The kids are playing hide and seek and look like little chastened angels.

Alan comes home at 6 and feels the expected tension before opening the door. Mae mumbles, ‘ Hi, dinner is almost ready.’ Too many times lately Mae’s smile and warm kiss are missing. ‘Tell me later what the kids did wrong today. My day wasn’t exactly heaven either.’ He does a little tap dance to hide his anxiety and goes upstairs to change. The children are watching TV. in Margie’s room. ‘Hey, Kids, Daddy’s home. Where are my hugs? ‘ His arms open wide and they rush him, almost bowl him over. ‘That was delicious. How about going downstairs to help Mom?’ Hand in hand, their halos invisible, they leave.

Alan leans on the table, looks at Mae, winks and says only one word, ‘Later.’ And later it would be. In the quietude of their bedroom, Mae tells him horror stories of the fights, how the children pay no attention to her, how nervous they make her. Before she can tell him everything, nausea strikes. Mae has no time to get to the toilet and vomits on the fuzzy white scatter rug next to her bed. Alan holds her forehead while she heaves up her dinner. ‘Rest, Mae. I’ll clean this up.’ He loosely rolls the rug and carefully takes it to the yard where he runs the hose over it.

From the staircase he calls to her, ‘Mae, would you like a little glass of ginger ale? It can settle your stomach.’ No answer. Mae is lying in bed, pooped, sweaty and still. Alan hesitates but gets his words out, ‘Are you pregnant?’ Her answer is expected. ‘Oh, god, Alan, I’ve been in denial for a month. I’m sorry, so sorry.–but it is half your fault, too.’ They laugh and he kisses her on her smelly lips. Softly he climbs into bed with Mae, holds her close. Mae relaxes a little and squeezes his hand.

‘This is what we’ll do, Love. Saturday afternoon we’ll take the kids to see Spiderman, followed by Mylo’s pizzas. We will tell them our news together.’ The plan works. Margie and Harvey are wildly happy, hug and kiss both parents, ask for more cokes and cannolies. They are flying on air. ‘Geez,’ says Harvey. ‘We’re going to have company. ‘Margie, I am going to be boss. I’m older than you.’ ‘Oh, no you won’t, I am nicer than you. I will dress the baby every day.’ Harvey accepts that. ‘OK, if we have a boy, I’ll teach him how to play ball.’ ‘Well, if we have a girl, we’ll play mothers and I will always be the mother.’

‘Stop it, stop it, both of you. Daddy is right here and will punish you when we get home.’ ‘He will not. He loves us and you too, Mommie.’

‘Can you do us a favor and try to have twins?’