Page 75 of Afternoon Delight
I’d bought a condo with a bedroom and a den so I could have both kids over, but I had a moment of, Do I want that? It wasn’t about Shelby having a boyfriend or sleeping with him under my roof. I knew when she’d become sexually active and with whom because she’d asked me to take her to the clinic for birth control before they did it. It had been distressing, because I’d had to reckon with the fact that she was growing up and making decisions about her own body, but also comforting, because she’d been willing to talk to me about it. I had always struggled—I still struggled—to talk about sex with my own mother. She had gotten pregnant, and that had been wrong, according to her mother. Thus, when I had gotten pregnant the first time, outside the sanctity of marriage, that had also been wrong.
We were both still trying to compensate for that, which was silly because, come on. How was Shelby a mistake? How was I?
No, this moment of hesitation was about Toronto. About going back to where I didn’t even have a job anymore.
“What about you?” Shelby was asking Rod. “Are there any cute guys at your new school?”
“Mmm.” His mouth squinched up toward his nose, but I suspected it was more reluctance to talk about it than dismay at his options.
“We are collectively setting back feminism by a hundred years, talking about our ‘prospects,’” I pointed out as I peeked at the scalloped potatoes to see if it was time to start cooking the steaks, both beef and cauliflower.
“Yeah, but talking about boys is fun,” Shelby said. “Or it would be, if you three found yourself some prospects to talk about. What else are we going to talk about? School?”
“Let’s talk about helping Grandma with Grandpa’s things,” I suggested. “You kids have to tell Grandma if there are things you want, but you can also take stuff to the second-hand store and maybe sell Dad’s fishing gear online. I’ll buy you a day at the ski hill,” I added, sweetening the pot.
“You don’t have to bribe us, Mom. But thanks. We accept.” Shelby sent a bright smile to Rod.
“The ski hill is closed for the season,” Roddie informed her. “You walked right into that one. Good job.”
Shelby made a face at me while Mom sighed wearily.
“Don’t you want to come live with us in Toronto, Grandma?” Shelby asked.
“You don’t live there,” Mom pointed out.
“Not right now, but I will. Everyone else is there.” She shrugged.
“Roddie will leave in a few years. Then it’ll be me and your mother in a place I don’t know. At least I have friends here. And your mother has suggested I start a window display service. What would I do? Pack up my whole craft room and ship it across the country to start fresh there? I don’t know. It sounds too complicated.”
“Are you thinking seriously about that, Mom?” I asked her.
“Were you not serious when you suggested it?”
“I was,” I assured her.
“Grandma’s been doing the displays at the sex shop. They’re actually pretty funny. In a good way,” Roddie told Shelby. “I was in the coffee shop across the street and some people came in laughing about it, but it made some other people walk over to see it, so you’re good at it, Grandma.”
“Sex gets everyone’s attention. I don’t know that I’d be as successful with a clothing store. But I do keep wondering what I’ll do with my time once you’ve gone home. I can’t keep rattling around this house, but... I suppose that’s why women my age remarry, so they have someone to look after and don’t have to think about how empty their life is.”
Oof. “Mom. If you want something to fix up, this house is begging for it.”
“Yeah, Grandma. Start with looking after yourself. See? Feminism is alive and well here,” Shelby said.
“Then why isn’t Roddie doing the cooking?” I asked.
“Because you never let us in the kitchen! I’ll barbecue if you want me to.”
I really was my mother. I peered outside. The rain had stopped.
“Fine. Go start it.”
Chapter 41
Meg
When I left for the shop on Monday morning, Mom was letting Shelby load Dad’s clothes into her car so she could take them to a thrift store in Langford. It was a “good” one, Mom had said.
I felt happy-sad about it. It was a big step for Mom, and I was glad Shelby was there as an extra emotional cushion. Mom loved me, and I loved her, but we had this weird dynamic that had developed when she’d been consumed with Dad and his illness. She’d been shattered, and I’d taken control. I’d become her support, and I thought that’s how it would stay. Eventually, every child becomes their parent’s parent, right? Look at Zak and Zara with Dale.
