Page 13 of Thiago
“It wouldn’t have been undiagnosed if she’d gone to the doctor instead of working around the clock. She had lupus,Kiara, worked two jobs, then started working three.Three jobs!” Her mother had a full-time job, worked nights during the week, and then worked for a commercial cleaning company on the weekends.
“You’re not your mother.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Folding her arms over her chest, India frowned. “She worked herself to death. Literally. There’s no other way to say it. Look at the hours I put in now. Some days, I’m at the office for twelve hours.”
“Except Friday nights,” Kiara pointed out with a smirk.
India ignored her. “What kind of life am I living? All those hours at work, for what?”
“Okay, I understand where you’re coming from. You had a health scare, and you’re concerned you might be on the wrong track.”
“I am on the wrong track. I have all this”—she waved her hands around the room—“but no one to share it with. No kids. No husband. I don’t even know anyone on my father’s side.”
That part hurt quite a bit, not knowing an entire half of her identity.
Though her mother never said, India figured she had been an unplanned pregnancy because her parents had been teenagers when she was born. Her father, Karl Monroe, had paid child support, what little he could afford on his meager salary. He was an artist, a dreamer, she’d once heard Grandma Selah say, while her mother, Giselle, had been practical. She had never pushed Karl for more or taken him to court, so they struggled most of India’s childhood.
After India turned eighteen, she didn’t hear from him much. The last time she saw him was two years ago. She recalled the pain of that moment, which proved beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t care for her or love her.
Kiara studied her with a frown etched into her forehead. “Are you saying you want to have kids?”
She had never seriously considered them before because of her lupus, but children had been one of the fleeting thoughts that entered her mind as she lay on her back in the emergency room.
India shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’d be a horrible mother. I can’t cook. What would they eat—cereal and Pop-Tarts?”
Kiara smiled at her. “Cooking is not the only requirement for being a mother, and personally, I think you’d make a great mom—if that’s what you want.”
“What makes you so sure?” India asked, hating she sounded as if she were fishing for compliments, though she was.
“Because you’re a perfectionist, and I imagine you treating motherhood like one of your projects. You’ll study it inside and out and become the best damn mom on the planet, putting the rest of us to shame.”
India groaned. “Bad answer. Being a mother isn’t like being a marketing executive. There are rules and guidelines in my industry. Being a mother is like being tossed into the middle of the ocean with no life jacket or idea which direction land is in. You have to keep swimming and hope you’re going in the right direction.”
Kiara laughed. “Motherhood is tough, but it’s not that bad, I promise. Listen,” she said, leaning closer, “forget what I said about you being a perfectionist and treating motherhood like your career. You want to know how I know you’d make a great mom? You’re a fantastic godmother to my kids. You’re patient with them. I’ll never forget the day Jayden spat up on your brand new silk blouse, which I know cost a small fortune. I was mortified, but you just laughed.”
“He was a baby. How could I be mad?”
“Exactly. You showed patience and had a sense of humor about it, which is typical for you. Being a mother is not for the weak. You have to have patience because kids—whew, lord—they will test you. And embarrass you in front of other folks. There are so many ups and downs and challenges, and keeping your cool is essential. That sense of humor is important to get you through the rough patches. Not to mention, you’re nurturing.”
“I’m not nurturing.”
“You’re nurturing,” Kiara insisted. “God forbid Thiago eats a protein bar after work. You feed him every time he comes to your house, though you can barely boil water.”
“Hey, I can boil water.” She playfully tapped her friend’s hand.
Kiara smiled. “You’ve been nurturing with my kids. Jayden and Josiah love their Auntie India, and speaking as a mom, I appreciate the way you love them—unconditionally—as if they’re your own. It puts my mind at ease, knowing that if anything ever happened to me and Josh, my boys would be well taken care of.”
India pointed a chastising finger at her. “Don’t you dare make me cry.”
“All I’m saying is, if you want to have children, you’ll be a great mom. But if you’re really worried about being a good mother, I’m here for you to lean on. Anytime.”
“Thanks,” India said softly. “I’m not ready to have a child yet, but it’s definitely something I’m considering. My head is full of a lot of ideas at the moment.”
“Are you thinking about having a child on your own?” Kiara asked tentatively.
“I would consider it, but we’re putting the cart before the horse. Having a child is a monumental change. I think what I’d like to do is start small and begin dating. I’m thirty-three years old, and the last time I was in a serious relationship was in high school.”
“Damien Jones. He was so fine,” Kiara said wistfully. “I wonder where he is now.”
