HAPPILY EVER BEFORE by Aimee Pitta, Melissa Peterman Page B

disappointment, was shot up with a second and third set of hormones, and a few weeks later found herself in a white gown, legs spread eagle and staring, yet again, at the mosaic tiled ceiling in the examination room. Clair surmised that her feelings of relief stemmed from the fact that she wasn’t really part of the process. So, this time when the nurse came in with the foreign object and Grace averted eyes and Frigidaire put on some gloves then picked up the foreign object and said, “ try to relax, try to keep your cervix relaxed; okay?” Clair was holding Grace’s hand.
    Three weeks later it was confirmed that Grace was officially knocked up. And, so, the Higgins Sisters officially moved from now to now what to you don’t say and onto the big--you’re having my baby--game board that was about to consume their lives.
    “You don’t say?” That was the first thing Patricia said when she heard the good news. The second thing she said was, “so you’re still going through with this?”
    At least Henry, Sr. offered his congratulations.  That is before pouring himself a stiff drink. “Grandpa? Does the kid have to call me grandpa?”
    Henry knew they weren’t thrilled by the idea of Grace carrying their child, but even for them this was a bit extreme. “Is something wrong?”
    Patricia sighed, “other than that woman giving birth to our grandchild, what could be wrong?”
    Clair had had enough of the Grace bashing. “Grace is making a huge sacrifice for us. She didn’t have to do this. We could’ve hired a stranger or adopted, but no. She stepped up because she loves me, loves us. Now, you either accept that or you don’t, but let me tell you this--one more rude comment at all about my sister and you will never, I repeat, never see this child!”
    Henry, Sr. watched his daughter-in-law trembling in front of him and felt like a fool. He walked over to Clair and put his arm around her. “Now, let me get this straight it’s your egg, his sperm, and your sister is basically the Easy Bake Oven my grandchild is being cooked in?”
    Clair traded a confused look with Henry. “Uh, yeah.”
    He guided Clair out onto the porch that overlooked the pool and tennis courts. “So, I was thinking we should come up with a few alternatives. Maybe the kid could call me Papa Henry?” he asked, as they disappeared into the vast back yard.
    Henry didn’t look at his mother. He knew that would be a huge mistake. Instead, as he concentrated on his imperfect rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” Patricia sat down beside him, took his hand in hers and declared, “I will seriously hire a guy named Big Moe to break every one of your fingers if you ever touch this piano again!”
    Henry laughed, “I thought it was your dream to have a concert pianist in the family?”
    “Honey, I dreamt of a lot of things, but I learned to give up the unrealistic ones. Apparently, you’re not meant to be a concert pianist and your father wasn’t cut out for the boardroom. You adjust.”
    “Well, if you adjust, why are you having such a hard time with the baby thing?” Henry could’ve sworn he’d seen a pained expression wash across his mother face, but she got up too quickly for him to tell for sure.
    Patricia grappled for a way to articulate what she was thinking. “I, well, here’s the thing, what if something goes wrong? I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade, but something could go wrong. Can you handle that, can Clair, can Grace? And, I know you’ve said you’ve covered all the bases legally and financially, but have you really? What is Grace going to do after all of this? I know it’s your kid, she knows it’s your kid, but this is a huge responsibility and at the end of the day you and Clair have a child. Grace, who God willing won’t need a C-section, has forty pounds of baby weight, breasts overflowing with milk, and no kid. Is that fair?”
    Henry was at a loss for words. “You like Grace.”  Patricia