The Desire (9 page)

H
i, Mom,” Michele said. She stood up and pointed toward the house, letting Allan know she would take the call inside. He nodded and smiled, then turned his eyes back on the courtyard and his attention, no doubt, to memories of Africa.

“I'm sorry,” her mom said, “I just looked at the time. We're not eating for a couple of hours. But I just called you at dinnertime, didn't I?”

“Not a problem. It's still in the oven. I can't talk long, but I can talk a few minutes.”

“Just stop me if you need to go.”

“So, what's up? How did your big surprise go last night with Tom and Jean?”

“It couldn't have gone better. It's one of the reasons I called. Did you see Audrey Windsor talking with your dad on Sunday?”

“I did. And I figured it must have something to do with Tom, because Dad kept looking at him while they talked. But I haven't been able to figure out what.”

“Looks like your brother and his family will be moving out of our house fairly soon
.
”

“Really? What's going on?”

Her mom spent the next few minutes filling her in on the news about Tom and Jean suddenly being able to buy Audrey's house. “I'm so happy for them. This is so wonderful!” Michele was almost yelling. “I wish I could've been there to see their faces. You told them right there in front of the house? What a clever idea.”

“It was your dad's. I was just gonna tell them over dinner.”

Her father still continued to surprise her. “When is all this supposed to happen?”

“Your father said it should only take about a month or two.”

“Is that all?”

“Cutting out the real estate agent and mortgage company gets rid of most of the red tape.”

“So how are you doing with this news? With Doug back at school, you guys really will be empty-nesters. Are you still looking forward to it?” Michele stepped into the kitchen and turned on the oven light. Good, the casserole still had a few minutes.

“Well . . . we won't be, not exactly.”

“What do you mean?”

“That's another part of the reason why I called. I've got some other news.”

The joy in her mother's voice had dropped off considerably. “Is it bad news?”

“No. In some ways, we think it's very good news.” But she definitely didn't sound upbeat.

“By ‘we,' do you mean Tom and Jean?”

“No, your father and me.”

“So, what is this
good
news?”

Her mother hesitated. Michele found herself tensing up.

“To be honest, I meant to call you earlier today, but I've been struggling a little. When this idea first came to me, it seemed totally from the Lord. It's kind of a big thing. Your dad responded so well to it, and even Doug did when we talked to him.”

Oh great, Michele thought. They had even talked to Doug before they talked to her—the son who was hardly ever home and mostly disconnected from the family. “What is it, Mom? Would you stop setting it up and just tell me?” A long pause. Michele had gone too far. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't mean to say it like that.”

“I'm messing this all up, making it way bigger than it is,” Marilyn said. “I should have just said what it is from the start. It's just . . . we're not going to be empty-nesters because someone's moving into Doug's garage apartment. Pretty soon, actually. Even before Tom and Jean move out.”

This didn't sound so bad. “Who is it?”

“It's this young girl I met. Well, here I go again.” A short pause. “The next part is the part I thought you might have trouble with. I want you to know, your dad and I gave this girl the okay without even thinking. I probably should have talked to you first, to make sure you'd be okay with it.”

Michele was tensing up again. She reminded herself that her mom was just nervous and that she tended to beat around the bush when she got nervous. This was probably nothing. “That I'd be okay with
what
?”

“With her moving into the garage apartment, where Doug's been living the last two years.”

“Why would I
not
be okay with that? Doug's hardly ever home anymore.”

“I know,” her mom said, “but there's more. I met this girl down at the Women's Resource Center. She's seven months
pregnant. She just recently became one of my clients, and we found out she was about to lose her apartment. This way, she'll have a safe place to live until the baby is born, and I'll be able to look in on her.”

“Oh.” Michele wasn't sure if this new information mattered that much. With all this buildup, she was thinking it should bother her more than it did. “Well, I guess it's a good thing for her that the two of you met.”

“So you're okay with it then?”

“I think so. Is there some reason I shouldn't be?”

“I just thought that you might, you know, because you . . . you haven't been able to get pregnant yet. And you've been trying all this time. We've talked about how much it bothers you how easily some women who don't even want children get pregnant, or can't take care of them. And other women like you are totally ready to be moms and want children desperately, but can't.”

Michele heard the patio door open and turned. Allan was coming inside. “I remember talking about that, and when I do think about it, it does bother me. So I try not to think about it very much.”

“See, that's what I'm talking about,” her mother said. “Having this girl living in the garage apartment, won't her presence constantly force you to think about it? Every time you see her? Every time you come over for a visit? Especially in these next two months. She's really showing now, but in a month she'll be even bigger. A month after that, the baby will be here.”

Allan walked past her and motioned that he was heading upstairs to wash his hands. Michele nodded. She was actually glad he was out of earshot, so she could speak more freely. “Mom, I don't see it being too much of a problem. I
see pregnant women all the time at church. Quite a few of my students' moms are pregnant. Just as many push little babies in strollers. I think I can handle this. Are you thinking she'll want Allan and me to adopt her baby? Is that what all this is about?”

“No, I don't think that has anything to do with this. She's planning to go through an adoption agency anyway. I just didn't want to cause you any pain. I know how hard this whole thing's been on you. I didn't want to do anything to add to it.”

“That was very thoughtful. But let me put your mind at ease. I'm really okay. Well, most of the time I am. Allan and I haven't really begun to explore all the medical things available for couples going through what we're dealing with. Actually, that's the next big conversation I want to have with him. I'm just waiting till he recovers from this trip. But I'm not even thinking about adoption right now, so hanging around this young girl shouldn't cause any more pain than usual. At least that's how I'm seeing it now.”

“I'm really glad to hear that, Michele.”

“We keep talking about ‘this girl.' What's her name, anyway?”

“We're really supposed to keep that confidential. But I guess that's kind of silly if she's going to be living here with us. I think you'll really like her once you get to know her. She's a little rough around the edges, but she's very sweet.”

“And her name is . . .”

“Her name's Christina.”

F
or the first half of their meal, Allan did most of the talking. This was largely because Michele kept asking him questions. She did her best to avoid questions about Korah, the dump site where he'd spent his last two days. Whenever he talked about Korah, she became uncomfortable. It wasn't so much the things he'd said, which were hard to hear. All of it was hard to hear. It was the emotional effect it had on him. She was trying to get him back on track; back in the present, not stuck in Korah.

This tactic didn't work. At some point, he stopped eating, stopped talking, and just stared at his plate.

“What's the matter?” she said.

“Nothing. I was just thinking . . . this casserole tastes way better than it looks.”

“Hey!” She slapped him in the arm. “I worked hard on that.”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “Look at it. The green noodles, the gray sausage, and what is that mixed in? Cottage cheese?”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I love it. Every time you make it, I eat two helpings. But
look at it. You've got to admit, it lacks a certain . . . visual appeal.”

She'd never thought about it before. “So you don't think I should make this dish when we have friends over?”

“Maybe good friends. Very good friends.” He smiled.

This was nice. By the look on his face a moment ago, she was expecting him to say something dark and dismal, not make a joke. Maybe he was coming out of it.

“Even as bad as it looks,” he said, “any one of those kids I saw in Korah would see it as a feast.” That gloomy look reappeared as he shifted his eyes off her and back to his plate. “You can't believe the things they eat, Michele. It boggles the mind. I kept thinking if I was in their shoes, I don't think I could do it. I'm serious. I think I'd just have to starve. It was that bad.”

She didn't know what to say. She felt like anything she added would just keep this unpleasant thread going. “Maybe the next time you go back, you can make it for them.” What a stupid thing to say. What was she thinking?

“I wish I could. They certainly wouldn't mind how it looks.” He took another bite, then another.

It was time to change the subject. “I almost forgot Tom and Jean's big news.” She spent the next five minutes telling him all about it. Then she spent another five minutes telling him about Christina moving into Doug's place over the garage. She left out the part about having met Christina before at the playground. Why open that can of worms? She did mention that Christina was seven months pregnant. Allan asked if that was going to be a problem for her. She told him she didn't think so.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Before the conversation could drift back to Korah, she said, “I did some research while you were gone.”

“Really, on what?”

“I guess you'd call it our . . . infertility problem.”

“Is that still bothering you?”

Was he kidding? Did he really just ask her that? “It's probably fair to say I think about it at least ten times a day.”

A shocked look came over his face. “You're not kidding.”

She shook her head no.

“So it bothers you a lot. I had no idea. How long has it bothered you . . . that much?”

“It's not something that just started recently, Allan. I think it's bothered me since about the second month we started trying. And it bothers me more and more each month that passes by.” She set her fork down. Suddenly, her appetite was gone.

“We haven't talked about it in a while. I guess I just figured things had eased off.”

That's what she thought he'd thought. “We haven't talked about it because you haven't asked. And because the last time we talked, you and Mom made it pretty clear that someone who'd been trying for
only
a year had no business being as concerned as I was.”

“Did I say that?”

“Kind of. You were both trying to tell me a year of trying to get pregnant wasn't such a long time.”

Allan's eyes and eyebrows suggested he was trying to recall this moment. “I think I remember the conversation you're talking about. We were in the kitchen with your mom, right?”

Michele nodded.

“My recollection is that we were trying to comfort you, not make you feel bad or guilty.”

“I guess I missed that message. I don't recall feeling very comforted after.”

He reached his hand across the table. “I'm sorry, hon.”

“And you never even asked me about it later. Tonight is the first time we've talked about this subject since then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh Allan, of course I'm sure. I've wanted to talk about it a dozen times.”

He set his fork down too. “Why didn't you let me know? Give me some kind of sign that you were struggling this much?”

She didn't know whether to yell or to cry. She remembered something Ray had shared with them during their premarital counseling. How unspoken words can form walls that get thicker and thicker over time and cause much more pain than if the couple had talked things through right away. Her mom and dad's marriage had been in a crisis at the time. She felt her mom was partly to blame because she hardly ever spoke up when her father did something that hurt her. By that time, their wall seemed like the Great Wall of China.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she whispered, “I guess I was wishing you were more like you were before we married. You always seemed to know how I was feeling. It was like you could read my facial expressions or tone of voice. You already know how much I've wanted to be a mom. We talked this out before we got engaged. You said you wanted kids just as much as I did. Ever since I was a little girl, besides getting married, being a mom's the only thing in life I ever really wanted.”

She wiped her tears with her hand. “Haven't you even noticed the depression I go through every month when that day comes, and it's obvious I'm not pregnant . . . again? I've wanted you to ask me about it and pray with me. Maybe help me find Scriptures to encourage me. Or just hold me close and tell me it will be okay, and say someday soon our baby would come.”

The words hung there in the air between them. For several moments, he didn't answer. He just kept staring at his half-eaten plate of spinach-noodle casserole.

When he did look up, she could see that tears had welled up in his eyes. He got up from the table, walked around to her side, and held her. He gently kissed the top of her head. “I'm so sorry, Michele. So very sorry.”