Something Had to Give (2 page)

Mommy was a stay-at-home mom. Daddy did well in his job that Mommy never had to work. I often wondered if she was OK with this role. I loved Mommy and respected her, but there were only rare moments when I felt as though she was happy. Mommy kept the same routine every day. I woke up to breakfast every morning without fail and when I came home from school, the house was always spotless and dinner would be ready. Mommy maintained our home flawlessly and never complained when Shanna and I messed up our rooms within minutes of being home. These were the things I respected about her. Daddy, Shanna, and I never lifted a finger to clean the house, yet day after day we came home to the smell of lemon pine sol and not a single item out of place. We never knew what it was like to come home without dinner being prepared. Even when Mommy was sick, her routine remained the same and she never complained.

We all took Mommy for granted. She never got the thank you she deserved and we certainly never gave her a break. I’m not sure if it was because it was what we learned to expect from her or if it was because she never demanded the appreciation she deserved. I never saw Mommy stand up for herself; she never raised her voice, and never voiced her opinion. She was a go-with-the-flow type of person. The type to do whatever needed to be done to keep the peace and avoid confrontation. I often wondered if Mommy was happy. I wondered if she was OK with not having a voice in our home. It was so hard to tell. Mommy kept to herself. She never went out with friends and she only talked to her sister on the phone when Daddy was gone. The most Mommy would ever talk, was when Aunt Michelle would call. Many times I would sit outside her bedroom door at amazement of how much she would talk and laugh. Most of things she talked about, I didn’t understand, but it was just nice to hear genuine happiness coming from her. I could never figure out why this only happened when Daddy was gone. Apparently, I was the only one who wondered about it, as this was the accepted norm in our home. No one ever questioned it. Mommy was a wonderful homemaker, but I knew early on that I wouldn’t be like her when I grew up. I was convinced that Mommy would be so much happier if she were a teacher. If she had the opportunity to meet Mrs. McCleary, she would’ve realized it right away. I made up my mind early on that I wouldn’t have a life like mommy. I would teach, cook when I felt like it in the evenings, but I definitely would not clean my house every day. I would make sure there was time to talk and laugh on the phone with friends. Maybe by then Shanna would like me. Maybe by that time, we could laugh and talk like Mommy and Aunt Michelle.

Mommy reminded me a lot of grandma. Grandma Gladys and Grandpa Ulysses lived in Michigan, where Shanna and I would spend the bulk of our summer vacations. I never felt safe flying to Michigan. The way my stomach dropped at takeoff and the constant popping in my ears made the flight seem like torture. Shanna would try to seem brave, but on several occasions, I noticed that she was gripping the armrest and breathing heavily when the plane began to move. However, when I tried to hold her hand, she would always tell me to grow up and to stop being such a “scary cat.” Luckily, there was always a nice stewardess who would hold my hand until I was able to somewhat relax and bring me snacks. She would never admit it, but I think it helped Shanna to have an adult there with us until we felt comfortable. Plane rides that always seemed to last hours upon hours always ended with Grandma and Grandpa greeting us with hugs and kisses. Grandma and Mommy had the same exact smile. It was genuine, but just a bit forced. As was the case with Mommy, it was hard to tell if Grandma was truly happy or playing the role that was expected of her. Grandpa was the complete opposite. You always knew how he truly felt and most of the time it was grumpy! The ride home from the airport and pretty much anywhere else he drove was full of lots of yelling and cussing. Shanna and I would giggle in the back seat while Grandma nervously fidgeted and pumped her imaginary breaks from the passenger seat. However, she never would say a word to try and calm him down. Just like Mommy, Grandma did whatever possible to avoid confrontation. I imagined it was the same when Mommy was growing up. At one point, she was the one in the backseat right where I sat watching Grandma’s reactions to Grandpa’s antics and silently taking note.

I loved Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Shanna had explained to me that it was a ranch home when I foolishly described it to a friend as a “one floor house.” It had a large front porch with a swing on one side and a hammock on the other. Each time I visited, I imagined myself living in a house exactly like theirs when I got older. Grandma planted tulips and roses leading up to the home and even maintained a garden of fresh veggies. The grass was the greenest I had ever seen and Grandpa made it well known that no one was to walk on it. Their garage was nothing like ours. Grandpa’s model cars were neatly aligned on shelves and Grandma’s gardening tools were all together in a corner. There was no clutter like ours had at home. Grandpa would sit on the swing with his coffee and newspaper every morning that the weather allowed. Often I would lie on the hammock and watch him. It was a well-known rule to not interrupt Grandpa during his morning coffee, but I found great amusement watching his reactions to the stories he read. It was only after he had finished reading the sports section that I could sit beside him on the swing without him getting annoyed at how much I was swinging. Grandpa would talk for hours about baseball, guns, and cars. He talked about all three so passionately that even Shanna would sit and listen. Grandpa was retired military and always expected order around him. Everything about his personality and demeanor screamed military. There was a certain way his clothes had to be ironed, he expected each meal at a certain time like clockwork, clothes and towels had to be folded a certain way, and the house had to be maintained at all times. It was nothing like how it was at home. If Shanna and I made a mess, we had to immediately clean it up. There was no waiting on Grandma to do it later. He had a quick temper if things were not up to his standards and though there were plenty of times that he made me cry or feel inadequate, I loved my Grandpa and loved spending time with him.

The inside of the home was kept so immaculate that it was hard to believe that Mommy and Aunt Michelle were raised there. We weren’t allowed to walk on the carpet with our shoes nor were we allowed to ever drink anything while on the carpet. The living room was just for show since no one ever sat in there and unlike our home, there wasn’t even a television in there. Instead, the television was in the den where Grandpa had his bar, gun cabinet, and of course, more model cars. There were four bedrooms: the master bedroom, Mommy’s old room, Aunt Michelle’s old room, and the guest room. I always slept in Mommy’s old room when we visited. The room was different, of course, from when she was my age, but I always felt like me staying in that room made me closer to her. It was a closeness that I didn’t ever expect to feel with her in real life. Shanna would never agree to stay in Aunt Michelle’s old room, instead opting to sleep in the guest room. We were not allowed in Grandpa and Grandma’s room. From the doorway, it looked beautiful. My first time visiting, I ignorantly asked where they slept because the bed was so perfectly made. I was convinced that no one ever touched it. The house was beautiful. It had even been featured on a magazine once. The picture of them showed Grandma with a grin from ear to ear. You could see how proud she was of this feature. Grandpa on the other hand couldn’t even force a smile. Instead his face showed sheer irritation. Daddy had joked that his scowl was likely due to the fact that the picture was taken standing on his perfectly cut front yard.

My Grandma worked diligently to keep the house to Grandpa’s standards. Just like Mommy, she had never worked outside the home. The time and effort she put into keeping the house up definitely qualified as a full-time job. Grandma always looked tired. I would imagine that the work she did on a daily basis took a large toll on her. Yet, whenever I asked her to sit and read with me or to attend my tea parties, she would without hesitation. She was a people pleaser and much like Mommy, she strived to always keep the peace. There were days I would stay right on Grandma’s heels as she cooked. She prepared meals so effortlessly. Even when I would string questions back to back, she would never break stride. She seemed to enjoy the company and sharing her secrets with me. I imagined that Mommy did the same when she was my age and that I reminded her of when Mommy was younger. I wanted to be a great cook like Grandma; I wanted to be proud of my home. However, there was no part of me that wanted cooking and cleaning to be my main purpose.

The summers spent in Michigan with Grandpa and Grandma was always enjoyable. Shanna was not allowed to be mean to me, which made it even better. Usually for the last week, we were there Daddy and Mommy would come to visit. It was always such a bittersweet time as it was great to have us all together, but sad also since it meant that our visit was coming to an end. Shanna would usually accompany Grandpa and Daddy on their fishing trip, while I would stay behind and hang out with Grandma and Mommy. They both would take time out the day to take care of them. It was so rare that I felt like I had to tag along and see it happen in person. We would do all kinds of girly things such as shop, get our nails done, and get new hair dos. There were even times, when they would just sit on the porch with a pitcher of lemonade and talk for hours. I never joined in the conversation, but enjoyed watching them let loose. The time spent with Grandpa and Grandma was such a wonderful time for us all. My grandfather on Daddy’s side had passed before I was born and my memories of his mother were virtually nonexistent since she had passed when I was four years old. Since he lost his parents, Grandpa had really taken Daddy under his wing. It worked out well for both. Daddy got to spend time with a father figure and Grandpa was able to spend time with the son he never had. Summers made me realize how special families were and how important it was to have them around. The time with my grandparents brought out so much happiness in all of us, even Shanna. It was this kind of feeling I wanted to have with my family one day. I wanted my future children to visit with Daddy and Mommy and feel the same love and excitement as I did.

The trip back home was always pretty difficult for all of us. Grandma would always stay home when it was time for Grandpa to drive us to the airport. We couldn’t all fit in the car, which I believe was convenient for Grandma who always became tearful during our goodbye hugs. Mommy was a pro at keeping it together during this time. I would always watch intently after she would hug Grandma tightly, waiting to see some form of emotion from her. She would never cry though, but that carefree and happy smile she wore for the week was gone. The ride to the airport was somber. It was pretty much silent with occasional small talk between Grandpa and Daddy, and of course Grandpa yelling at other drivers. Mommy would stare out the window the whole time, while Shanna would fidget nervously. I wouldn’t cry until it was time to hug Grandpa Goodbye at the airport.

I was always thankful to have Daddy and Mommy on the plane ride home. Takeoff didn’t nearly seem as bad with Daddy holding my hand. The plane rides home seemed to last forever. It was time to put us back in the mindset of going back to our everyday lives. Daddy would go back to working long days and traveling frequently. Mommy would go back to her routine days of cooking, cleaning, and living quietly in the family shadows. School would be starting back in a week for Shanna and me. In the meantime, Shanna would spend the bulk of this time in her room only coming out to eat, shower, or open the door to let her friends in. Then there was me. I would go back to doing my own thing. Though this was the norm for our family, I always felt a sense of discomfort with this set up. It definitely wouldn’t be the dynamic of my future family.

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I had my wedding planned when I was eight years old. One day after school on a warm Friday afternoon in March, I was riding the bike I had just received for my birthday and noticed a U-Haul truck parked at the end of street. As I rode to the back of the truck, I heard grunting as I saw mounds of dark brown curls attempting to pull the “SOLD” sign out of the grass. Underneath the curls was a boy that was just a little taller than me, but I gathered to be around my age. I stood and watched him for a while before hopping off my bike and helping him uproot the sign. As he turned to face me, he seemed a little shocked by my presence. After a few minutes of awkward silence, he mumbled, “I could’ve done it by myself where’d you come from anyway?”

“I was riding my bike by silly.” I couldn’t help but giggle.

He seemed really shy, never really making eye contact. Instead he stared at his sneakers mumbling. “Well thanks, I gotta go inside now.”

As he made a beeline for his front door, I stood and watched him for a while, thrilled that there was someone in the neighborhood that was my age. I made the decision to come back by the next day to see if maybe he would want to ride bikes with me.

I spent that evening trying to come up with boy activities that I could invite him to. I even thought about making him an invitation and leaving it in his mailbox until it dawned on me then that I didn’t even know his name. I also didn’t know his favorite color or anything that I could decorate the envelope with. I thought about riding my bike over to ask if he was allowed to come to one of my tea parties, but no, that wouldn’t work either. Daddy was very clear in explaining to me that tea parties were for girls. What else was left? Maybe riding our bikes, but Shanna told me before that it was boring unless you have specific place to go. Then it hit me! We could ride our bikes to the creek that ran behind the townhomes the next street over. I had never been, but I had heard that there were frogs, turtles, and all types of gross animals that boys like. Perfect! It was set and though it wasn’t exactly what I would choose to do, it was a way to get him to want to play with me. I went to sleep that night with a big grin on my face as I tossed and turned in anticipation of finally having a companion.