Page 27 of A Brilliant Spring

Suddenly it’s almost April, and Riley can’t hide the baby any longer. Her cute little bump has grown into a cute little ball. I keep pressing Riley to tell her parents, but she keeps putting it off. I don’t understand why. Her parents are nothing like mine. They’re caring, loving, wholesome. They’ll probably be excited at the news of a grandbaby. A small twinge plays at my heartstrings, wanting the family she has.

“Okay, enough is enough, Riles,” I say. Her mouth is wide open and the spoon hangs in midair outside of her mouth while her gaze slides across the island to meet mine. Her mouth takes a full minute to close as she slowly drops her spoon back into her bowl of cereal. She rolls her hunched shoulders back, sitting straight up on the stool with a worried look etched on her face. Her lips quiver and tears well up in her eyes. Fuck.

“I…I know. I have to tell them, my parents. I’m just scared,” she says. A heavy tear drops from her eyes, like a swimmer from a diveboard, and lands in her bowl of cereal, followed by another, then another. The room grows silent until the hum of the refrigerator kicks on. I round the corner of the island and walk over to her, cradling her into my chest and hugging her head.

“You’re not going to do it alone. It’ll be you and me, so don’t forget that.” My voice is soft and comes out in more of a hush, trying to calm her down. She snorts back some tears and snot, and, using the sleeve of her shirt, she dries her cheeks.

“Aww,” she groans. “I have tears in my cereal. Now it’s going to be too salty. And I was really craving that bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.” My cheeks puff from trying to stifle a laugh when her shoulders start to shake, and we both burst into hysterical laughter. Tears start running down Riley’s cheeks from laughing so hard.

“Let’s just go out for breakfast. Let’s go see if Becca is working today.” Riley rolls her eyes at me.

“Dude, you know she’s always working.” She shakes her head and laughs. “But yeah, let’s go and get something to eat. I’m still starving. Mmmm…real cinnamon French toast,” she says dreamily, practically drooling.

•••

Griddle Cakes is packed, to no one’s surprise. The Toronto location has practically become our regular spot, so much so that Becca keeps a lone table in the corner of the restaurant open just for us at all times of day. God, I love that woman. Sure enough, as we push through the doors and snake past the line-up, a chorus of groans and grunts following us, there’s the small two-person booth in the corner. Becca’s head pops up as she looks over in our direction and a big smile stretches across her face.

“Over here, ladies!” she shouts. Riley gives the line an apologetic look. I roll my eyes.

“We have a reservation,” I say to them, which seems to shut them up. Under my breath I mutter, “A standing reservation.” I chuckle. As we take our seats, Becca comes over carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee, placing all three down on the table. The restaurant is buzzing and humming with chatter from the other customers. The sweet scent of syrup and pancakes fills the air while the rich steam from the pot of coffee teases my taste buds.

“Oh. My. Goodness. Look at you, Riley! You’re getting so big!” Becca squeals. Riley pushes away from the table and stands up, proudly showing off her baby bump. Her hands rub her swollen little bump and tug at her shirt, tightening it so it makes her tummy more protruded. Becca’s eyes are full of wonder and happiness. “May I?” she asks. Riley nods her head, and that’s all the permission Becca needs before her hands are wrapped around Riley’s belly and rubbing. “Have you felt any kicks yet?” Riley’s eyes light up as she nods her head.

“Mhm, I have! It’s such a weird feeling. Like something is trying to claw its way out of you.” She chuckles. “Well, I guess in a way, it will be soon enough!”

“How far along are you now?”

“Um, almost five months. Wow, yeah…five months. That’s crazy,” Riley responds, her expression growing thoughtful. The bell over the door sounds, and the crunching of the till rings in the background as customers scrape and scratch their plates. The noise momentarily fills the silence.

“Well, I’ll just leave the pot with you gals, and be back to take your orders. Although, I’m pretty sure I know what they’ll be.”

“Thanks Becks!” I call after her. Riley absentmindedly sits down in the chair, teetering on the edge of a breakdown it looks like. “What’s up, Riles?” Her eyes dart around the room before finding mine.

“I only have four months left…a-a-a-and I have nothing done. Nothing! I don’t have a room for the baby. Hell, I don’t have a crib-thingy that they first sleep in. I don’t even know if I want to breastfeed, or how the hell I’m gonna push this thing out of my vagina!” Her chest is rising and falling rapidly as she gulps air.

“Take a deep breath, Riley. It’s fine. Four months is more than enough time, it’s called a bassinet, you don’t need to decide if you’re breastfeeding right now, and many women have done it, and you can too.” Her eyes quiver as they look into mine and her shoulders relax as she draws in a big breath. “That’s good. Now, let’s get some breakfast, drink this delicious coffee, and…” I reach into my purse to grab a pen and rip a napkin from the holder on the table.

“Let’s make a list while we eat, of all the things we need to do, and all the things you’re worried about. Then we’ll spend the rest of today researching things and planning our trip to see your parents. And, before you have a chance to interrupt me, we’re doing it in two weeks. Just before the end of the month. It’s your mom’s birthday, it would be a nice surprise, and I’m sure she’ll love the fact that you’re giving her a grandchild. Now you may speak,” I say. My hand extends, giving her the floor to speak. Her mouth is open and gaping, but instead of saying anything, she closes it and gives me a heartfelt smile as her eyes well with tears.

“Thanks ’Lissa. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I reach over and grab her hands, which are wrapped around her warm mug of coffee.

“Well, you’ll never have to find out. I’m always going to be here for you, babe. You and the little Kiwi.”

After a moment of staring into each other’s eyes and holding hands, Becca returns. “What can I get you gals?”

I smile, turning my head towards her and order for the both of us.

“She wants French toast with cinnamon on it, please. And give it to her deep fried. Baby loves the carbs. And I’ll take a stack of flaps, please.” Becca smiles, winks, and turns away. As she walks back behind the counter to place our order, I take a good look around, taking in the atmosphere of the restaurant. If we thought the Kingston location was busy, put an already-great restaurant in downtown Toronto and you’ll see what busy really is. The line is out the door, and people have been waiting longer than before we even got here. I almost feel bad for them, but Becca’s made the choice to leave a booth open for us, and we’re her loyal customers. We come back here almost every day, especially since Riley’s cravings have been strong.

Riley and I chat away, creating the list of things we need to do, research, and should probably start shopping for as we wait for our food. By the time Becca returns with our food, we’ve written four napkins of things to do, some of which we are going to do after we eat breakfast. Going shopping, obviously. The easiest of all of them.

Becca sets our plates down in front of us. Stacks of fluffy, scrumptious pancakes and French toast sit in heaping piles in front of us; my mouth starts salivating.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Midge said these two ridiculously handsome guys were in earlier. I was so upset when she told me, because I was like, I would have totally gotten their numbers or something, ya know? Apparently, the one guy looked like he got kicked in the stomach and was about to be sick, though. Something about him being a dad…too bad the good-looking ones are always taken.” My eyes wander to Riley and she’s sitting looking dazed.

“What did they look like?” she asks weakly. Becca thinks for a moment, but then turns and calls Midge over. Midge, a silver-haired fox in her day, walks over, smacking some gum between her teeth.

“Tell them about the cuties you saw earlier…she was even saying she wished she got their numbers for us girls,” Becca says, wiggling her brows. Midge rolls her eyes and then wiggles her eyebrows as well.

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