Small Miracles

Nick and I both agreed that we’d rather keep things private for now. It helps that we didn’t tell any of our friends that we went on a date, so no one hounds us for info. We try to keep things as they were before: keeping our interactions to a minimum at school and barely speaking at all at work.

It works for about a week and half. Nick and I both have the day off work, so we spend it at my house. Mom and James aren’t home, so after finding some chips and guacamole, we pop in a movie and settle down to watch it.

I’m actually interested in the movie, but after about ten minutes or so, I can feel Nick shifting next to me restlessly. “I’m bored,” he declares.

“So watch the movie,” I say. “Or find some other way to entertain yourself.” Nick sighs loudly, but falls silent. A few minutes later, though, he brushes the hair off of my shoulder, making me twitch. “What are you doing?” I demand.

“Entertaining myself,” Nick says innocently. He leans down and kisses my shoulder before moving to my collarbone, and then working his way up my neck.

“Nick,” I say, squirming. “I’m trying to watch the – Nick.” The last word comes out like a moan, because it does feel really, really good. But I’m trying to have at least an ounce of willpower here.

He laughs a little, and then abruptly begins to tickle me. I shriek and try to push him off of me. “You’re an asshole,” I say between breaths of laughter. “I’m gonna kill –”

Before I can finish my sentence, a new voice says, “Well, well.” Nick springs off of me in a flash as I quickly sit up. Savannah is standing in the doorway of the TV room, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face.

“Holy shit,” I say, placing a hand over my beating heart, “God, you scared the shit out of me. How’d you even get in?”

“You left the door unlocked, genius,” she says, unconcerned. She steps closer, looking between us with raised eyebrows, that knowing grin still on her face. It takes me a second, but then I realize she must’ve seen Nick and I. “So, when were you gonna tell me about this?” She gestures between me and him.

“Um,” I say. “I was going to. I swear. But we just wanted to, y’know.”

Nick stands, brushing invisible dirt off of his jeans. “Should I go? I should go. I’ll go.”

“No you don’t,” I say quickly. Savannah merely looks at him and says nothing.

“I’ll go,” he repeats, already moving towards the door.

“Nick, come on,” I plead. I try to communicate please don’t leave me alone with her, she’ll kill me with my eyes. Nick answers my bad with his and a small shrug.

“S’okay, Jules,” Nick says with fake cheerfulness. “I’ll see you later. Bye, Savannah.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I say. Savannah raises her eyebrows as I follow him to the door. “If you don’t hear from me in an hour, call the cops and tell my mother I love her,” I whisper urgently.

Nick smiles. “I think you’ll be okay.” He reaches out and . . . fist bumps me.

“Seriously, dude?”

“She might be watching, dude,” he says teasingly. Before I can punch him, he opens the door and leaves. I figure I can’t stand here forever, so I reluctantly go back to where she’s sitting in a chair, waiting for me.

“So,” I say finally.

“So. How long has this been going on?”

“Only about a week. Promise. And I was gonna tell you, I swear. We didn’t want to tell anybody. My mom doesn’t even know. We were just trying to see how it would work out, and if it did, then we’d go from there.”

“Well?” Savannah asks. When I don’t say anything, she says, “Is it working out?”

I can’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Ugh.” She stands up with a sigh. “God, I swear, I was trying to be mad, but I can’t even bring myself to do it. Look at you, you’re all gooey and ugly in love.”

“I am not,” I say, wrinkling my nose.

“Not yet, anyway. I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. Everybody was waiting for y’all to get together.”

“Everybody?” I say grumpily. “Even the President of the United States?”

“Yup, even him. Speaking of, I’d better go and call him. He and his wife had a bet on how long it would take for you and Nick to become a thing, and now I think he owes her five bucks.”

“Shut up.”

She laughs. “You might wanna tell your mom, though. Word travels fast, and if she hears it from someone other than you . . .”

I shudder to think at what the consequences would be. Mom would be pissed I didn't tell her, and then tearful, and finally just passive-aggressive. “Yeah, you’re right,” I agree. “I’ll do it tonight.”

Savannah and I end up hanging out for a little while longer until she has to go home for dinner. When I walk her out, she abruptly turns and gives me a big hug. Then she starts to laugh. “What’s so funny?” I ask, my body stiffening out of surprise when she throws her arms around me.

“It’s just,” she pauses, “you hated Nick so much like a month or two ago. Remember? All you did was go on and on about what a dick he was. And now you’re dating him.” She chortles. “God works in mysterious ways, doesn’t he?”

“He certainly does,” I agree, rolling my eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

▲ ▼ ▲

“Hey Mom?” I say at dinner. It’s the one night a week that she’s home to eat dinner with James and me, and we celebrate it by having chicken, rice, mashed potatoes, and salad.

Mom’s distracted, watching as James pours a shitload of gravy on his potatoes, threatening to overflow onto the table. “James Isaiah, if you don’t put that gravy boat down right now, so help me God ‒” she threatens. James makes a face, but sets it down and begins mixing the potatoes and gravy together with his spoon.

My mother finally turns to me. “Sorry, Jules, what were you saying?”

“Um, I kind of have something to tell you.”

“Okay, what?” Before I can open my mouth, the phone rings. With a sigh, she holds up one finger, putting me on hold, before she gets up and answers it. “Hello?” She listens. “No, Georgia, I’m in the middle of dinner. No, Mark should know how to do that. Yes. Yes, I wouldn’t have hired him if he didn’t. Well, why didn’t you ask me before I left?” She sighs heavily again, turning away from us to look out the window over the kitchen sink.

I watch my brother smear food onto his face instead of into his mouth. “That’s gross,” I comment. Unbothered, he blows a raspberry at me. “Mommy’s gonna be so mad at you,” I say.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh. She’s gonna be so mad, she might even send you to the factory where we got you.”

James’s eyes grow wide. “No she won’t!”

“Wanna bet?”

“She didn’t send you or Jase there!”

“That’s cause me and Jase were good kids and we didn’t play with our food. You, though, I’m not sure.” I sit back and raise my eyebrows, enjoying his reaction. He stares at me for a few seconds, trying to figure out if I’m serious.

“I didn’t come from a factory,” he says suspiciously. “I came out of Mommy’s tummy.”

“That’s what she wants you to think,” I say. “We really got you from a factory in Wisconsin. We have a five-year warranty on you, so we still can return you if we don’t like you. So I’d be careful.”

I can tell he has no idea what any of that means. “Where’s Wisconsin?”

“Far, far away.”

“Is that where Daddy is?”

My mouth goes dry. I don’t really know why I’m surprised. I knew it would only be a matter of time before James started to ask about Dad and I’d eventually have to answer. “No,” I answer finally. “Daddy’s even farther. But you don’t want to go back to the factory. They won’t let you have dessert.”

Mom conveniently hangs up with Georgia then and comes to sit back down, shaking her head. “God,” she says, one big exhale.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she waves her hand, “just. Work stuff. Anyways, what were you saying?”

Right as I open my mouth, James shrieks, “Mommy, Julie says you’re gonna send me back to the factory!”

“What factory?” Mom asks, startled.

“The factory in Wishconsin! Where you got me from!” James is nearly sobbing now. Mom shoots me daggers, but I have to admit, I’m enjoying this in some sadistic way. Jase loved riling me up when we were little, and sometimes it’s fun to do the same to my baby brother. Plus, the act of telling Mom about Nick and I is making me anxious and jittery, so I just need to blow off steam somehow.

“Oh, honey,” Mom says soothingly. She reaches over and wipes his face with her napkin, cleaning it off. “That’s not true. You know you came from Mommy’s tummy, remember?”

“Julie says that’s not true.”

“Well, your sister is being very mean right now,” Mom says coldly. “But she’s the one not telling the truth. There is no factory. You were born in a hospital, remember? And then we took you here?”

James sniffles and nods. “That’s it,” Mom says. “No more tears.” To me, she snaps, “Julianna, apologize to your brother right now.”

“Sorry, James,” I say, fighting the urge to laugh. “I was just joking.” Mom gives him a hug, and over her shoulder he sticks his tongue out at me smugly, the little fucker. We finish dinner in silence, and I can feel Mom glaring at me the entire time. I stare at my plate.

After we’re done cleaning up, James asks, “Mama, can I go watch TV?”

“Yes, you may,” she says, smiling at him. “Just keep the volume down.” He eagerly jumps up and runs into the TV room. As soon as he’s gone, she turns to me. “What on earth is wrong with you?” she snaps.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know why I did it.”

She shakes her head. “Honestly, Julianna, are you seven or seventeen? I thought you were past fighting with your brothers, especially your baby one.”

“Jeez, I said I was sorry,” I say defensively. Mom merely sighs again (that’s the fourth one tonight) and rubs the bridge of her nose. I feel another pang of guilt. She stands up and takes the pot of leftover mashed potatoes off of the stove, grabbing two spoons before coming back over and sitting down. She hands a spoon to me.

“What was it you had to tell me?” she asks finally.

I swallow a particularly lumpy bite. “Um, okay. I figured you’d rather hear this from me rather than anyone else, so . . . uh . . . Nick and I. We’re sort of. You know.” I feel embarrassed now, like we’re watching a movie with a sex scene instead of having a normal conversation. “Dating.”

She stares at me, the spoon halfway to her lips. “You are?” I nod. “Since when?”

“Um, a few days ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right when this happened? I’m your mother!”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I? We didn’t tell anyone. Consider yourself lucky.”

Mom fish-mouths for a few more seconds. “Well. Well. All right then,” she says finally. “I suppose it’s about time anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gives me a look like really. “Nick has never been exactly shy regarding his affection for you, has he?” she says dryly. She’s got a point. “So what made you change your mind?”

I knew she was going to ask me this, but it doesn’t make answering any easier. “I don’t know,” I say finally. “He just . . . makes me feel happy. I guess. Like, he cares about me.” I’m even more embarrassed now, especially since Mom’s got this huge smile on her face.

“Well, I’m very happy for you.” Her face grows serious. “But . . . do I need to give you the Talk?”

“The Talk?” I repeat. And then it hits me. “No. No, no, no, no, no. We don’t need to do this again.” Mom and I already had the period Talk when I was in elementary school, and the actual Talk when I was in seventh grade. Thinking about them still makes me cringe.

“Julianna,” Mom says sternly. “I didn’t get a good Talk when I was your age, and that’s how Jase was born.”

“Okay, well, I’m very certain I will not be getting pregnant any time soon,” I say, feeling my face flush.

“Are you sure? We can get you on the pill if you want. I know a lot of girls your age are on it.” I know that my mother is technically considered “young” among all of my other friends’ moms, but right now I feel like she’s 70.

“God, Mom, no.” I wish the carpet would just open up and swallow me.

“Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands in defeat. “I just want you to feel supported. I know girls your age often don't feel comfortable discussing sex with their mothers, but I want you to be able to.”

“I appreciate that,” I say, and I genuinely do. “But it’s really okay. I’m fine. We just started dating. You should honestly be saving all of your energy for when Jamie grows up and needs to hear it from somebody.”

“Oh.” The thought has clearly never occurred to her before, and she frowns. Dad obviously gave the male version of the Talk to Jase, and it was assumed that he’d be around to give it to James. “I’ll figure it out when it happens,” she says finally.

Not wanting to upset her, I lean over and hug her. Surprised, but pleased, she hugs me back. “Thanks for not telling me to abstain from sex until I get married,” I say into her shoulder. This is Texas, after all. I know girls who have had purity rings on their fingers since they were in preschool.

“That’s what I was always told, but then I got married right out of high school and ended up with two children by the age of 22,” Mom says. “So I stopped believing in that.” Her tone is light, but I know that those years were hard for her. Mom’s parents kicked her out when she got pregnant with Jase, so she moved in with Dad and his mom. Eventually, Mom’s parents moved away, and Dad’s mom died when they were about to have me. The three of us and Dad are pretty much all Mom has, aside from some aunts, uncles, and cousins who are scattered throughout the south.

“Just be safe, okay?” she continues. “I’m not saying you have to wait forever, but . . . again, I ended up with two children by the age of 22.”

I try to put myself in her situation: stuck at home with two screaming toddlers, while Dad was at work all day. He knew that she always wanted to own a restaurant, so he worked his ass off to get her Blue Sky, which they finally opened when I was five and Jase was seven. I know I couldn’t last an hour in her shoes, much less a day.

“I think Cupcake Wars is on tonight,” Mom says. “Wanna go watch it? Unless you’re going somewhere else,” she adds hastily, clearly wanting to give me my space.

“No, I have no plans,” I say honestly. Nick and the rest of the world can wait a while. So we go into the TV room and turn to the Food Network. James falls asleep with his head in Mom’s lap, and she puts her arm around me and pulls me into her side. I lean into her a little and smell the comforting scent of her perfume and our laundry detergent, and, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, I wonder why on earth Dad wanted to give this up.