WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH ROY?
To Carol's surprise, it was easy to hide the extra money from Roy. He was being incredibly sweet and generous toward her, telling her early on to use the money they would have spent on rent to buy herself something pretty, or get some toys for Marcia, whatever. Sometimes Carol was tempted, but her deep-seated streak of common sense always won out, and she quietly banked the money.
The landlord was so pleased with Roy's work when the six months were up that he recommended Roy and his partner to other property owners he knew, and their income began to inch up. Roy always handed Carol a hundred dollars when he got paid and told her, as ever, to spend it on herself or Marcia. Carol simply added the cash to her little nest egg. It made her feel good knowing she had something entirely her own, and she was comforted by the knowledge that if anything untoward took place, she would have a little cushion for herself and Marcia.
Then, about a month after Marcia's second birthday, Carol began having pregnancy symptoms. Roy was overjoyed. "We're gonna get a boy this time, dream girl, aren't we?" he exulted happily.
"It might be another girl," Carol warned him.
"Oh, come on! Look at all the others who have boys. There're people out there who have nothing but boys. Marcia'll have a ball helping you take care of all her little brothers. I can just see it now." Roy was beaming, and Carol felt helpless. What was the story with his obsession with having a son? She wouldn't mind having a boy, but she wished he would be as welcoming of the prospect of a second daughter.
Roy reached over and patted her arm, interrupting her troubled thoughts. "Carol, babe, it's gonna be okay. Go ahead and go to the doctor tomorrow, and find out if you really are pregnant. And if you are, we'll celebrate. Right now, how 'bout some supper? My stomach's growling."
Marcia toddled into the kitchen as Carol began preparing the evening meal, and Roy swung the little girl into his lap. "Hiya, Marcia, kiddo, guess what…you might be getting a little brother soon! Your mom's gonna see the doctor tomorrow, and if he says there's a baby, well, we're all gonna celebrate your future little brother. Hey, Carol, whaddaya think…Roy Arthur Martin, Junior. Sounds great, huh?"
"Sure," Carol murmured weakly, unwilling to argue with him. He'd been in a wonderful mood ever since they'd moved into this apartment. It had been as close as she'd ever been to paradise. Roy had become a loving husband and a devoted father; every evening when he came home, he'd play with Marcia till supper was ready, so that Carol could work uninterrupted. He seemed really happy; he always looked so proud to be able to hand Carol five twenty-dollar bills every payday. Everything was peachy, as her friends Katie and Ellie would say.
She almost wished she hadn't gotten pregnant. Roy had been stiff with disappointment for a day or two after Marcia was born; and though he had eventually warmed up to the little girl, Carol wasn't sure he'd be so amenable this time if they had a girl. For my sake and for Roy's, please be a boy, Carol thought, and then frowned at herself. How wishy-washy could she be? Roy was just going to have to live with what they got. It wasn't as if they could control whether their babies were boys or girls.
But the issue kept bothering her, and finally, about a month after her pregnancy had been confirmed, she called both her mother and Roy's, inviting them to visit for the afternoon. They both accepted, and within an hour Carol was at the table with Jean on one side and Martha on the other, and Marcia sitting in her high chair, clearly delighted to be in on this grown-up tea party.
Carol had baked a Black Forest torte for the occasion, a recipe she had received some birthdays back from her mother's jet-setting, slightly eccentric, perpetually single, but beloved younger sister. Aunt Jenny had informed her that it had come from a chef whose Bavarian Black Forest roots went back for centuries, just like his secret recipe that she was now sharing with her niece. Carol had only half believed the story till she'd gotten another package from Jenny that same Christmas. Jenny had sent a photograph of herself with King George VI of England; and while Carol knew Jenny was good with cameras (among countless other things), she also knew that Jenny would never stoop so low as to have photographs retouched just to make a splashy impression. After that, Carol found herself envying her globetrotting aunt, and had always looked forward to her infrequent visits.
"That's Jenny's cake, isn't it," Martha chuckled as soon as Carol set it out. "Oh, Jean, just wait till you taste it. Carol always does such a lovely job baking things, and that recipe is very special."
"Who's Jenny, if you'll pardon the question?" Jean inquired.
"My little sister," said Martha with a fond smile. "There's not a mean bone in that girl's body, but gracious, I don't think there's a more unconventional female alive. She's never been married…little wonder, poor thing, she sometimes looked like she got beaten with an ugly stick." Martha sighed. "Or at least, that was how it was for her when she was in high school. Land sakes, she used to be the shyest, mousiest thing you ever saw. And then she was invited on a trip to France with her best friend at the time, and the travel bug bit her so hard I swear you can still see teeth marks on that wandering foot of hers. She came right out of herself. It's like that trip changed her completely. She came home spouting French almost like a native and announcing that she was going to get a job that would let her travel everywhere."
"My goodness," Jean said, blinking, but looking impressed. "Go on, Martha, please."
"Yeah, Mom, please," Carol added. She'd never heard the story of how her aunt had turned into the wonderful, exciting lady she was now.
"Well, Jenny managed to get herself hired on as personal maid to some impossibly rich old recluse. Somehow she charmed the living daylights out of the old lady, and she always called home each week brimming with stories of all the stories she'd heard. Seems the recluse had been quite a daring jetsetter in her own day, and Jenny was absolutely hooked by all the tales of the places she'd been and the things she'd done.
"Eventually Jenny's employer up and died—I think she was somewhere around ninety-five—and lo and behold, she had left Jenny her entire estate. Everything. We thought there was some mistake, but the old woman had been the last of her family and had nobody left. Whatever relatives she may have had were apparently so distant they weren't aware of their kinship with her. We were always waiting for some stranger to swoop in and contest the will, but it never happened, and to this day Jenny's living it up. Now, mind you, she's been very generous with that fortune. She paid off Mom and Dad's house for them, and they're living there scot-free and not a penny of debt. When Henry and I got transferred to California, she gave us half the purchase price of our house as a gift and told us not to bother paying it back. Henry was able to pay off the mortgage in just fifteen years. Jenny regularly sends exotic gifts to the kids, and I swear she's infected Jack with her wanderlust, since he wants to get a job that'll allow him to travel."
Jean shook her head in wonder. "It sounds like your sister's an incredibly lucky lady," she remarked, then took a bite of her torte finally. "Oh my. Carol, dear, this is simply divine."
"Thanks to Aunt Jenny's authentic recipe straight from the Black Forest," said Carol proudly. She cut a small square for Marcia and set it in front of her, watching while her two-year-old daughter began to pick the cake apart with small hands. All three women laughed when Marcia took her first bite and closed her huge blue eyes in ecstasy, moaning happily, "Mmmmmmmmm!"
"She knows what she likes," Jean said, chuckling. "So how're you feeling these days, Carol?"
For a couple of minutes they discussed the physical drawbacks of Carol's pregnancy; then Carol took a deep breath and looked at Jean. "Jean…could you tell me something, if I'm not being too intrusive?"
"Of course, dear, ask anything you like," Jean said encouragingly.
Carol sat staring at her cake, trying to think of a non-offensive way to ask. But her pregnancy was working on her, and the hormones had their way. Plaintively she asked, "Why doesn't Roy like girls?"
Jean blinked in confusion, and Martha stared at her daughter. "Come again?" Jean asked blankly.
"Remember when Marcia was born, and he was disappointed she was a girl? Now that I'm pregnant again, he's crowing about the little brother he's convinced Marcia will get. He's so certain it's going to be a boy, he won't even listen if I try to suggest we might have another girl. Now he warmed up to Marcia after she was born, but I'm afraid he was only making allowances. He acted like this when I was expecting Marcia, but it's worse this time. Why is he so convinced he's going to have a son?"
"Does it seem that way to you, dear?" Martha asked gently.
"It doesn't seem like anything, Mom. If you and Jean'll stay for dinner—and please say you will, I'll have Dad and Sam come over too—you'll see what I mean." Carol's eyes filled with tears at last.
"That might not be necessary, dear," Jean said then, her voice slow and regretful. Martha and Carol both looked at her, and she brought her teacup to her mouth and sat with it hovering just out of reach of her lips, as if using it for a shield. "You're right about Roy's attitude, I'm sorry to say. Sam was like that when I was expecting Roy. He wouldn't hear of the baby being a girl—said the Martin men father sons. It wasn't my place to say anything. Women just didn't speak up in those days. But I was so torn. Part of me wanted a girl just to make him eat his words, and part of me wanted a boy so Sam would be proud of me. When Roy was born, Sam just busted his buttons. He lavished everything on me and the baby. I was never able to have another one, as it turned out, so I was doubly glad Roy was a boy, for Sam's sake." She looked up and shook her head, her eyes still faraway. "Once, just once, I asked Sam what he would have done if we'd had a girl, and he said it never would have happened, it was unthinkable, and I should be ashamed of myself for wishing Roy had been a girl. I never brought it up again after that."
"Good heavens," Martha murmured. "What a shame, Jean."
"That's why I was so thrilled when Marcia was born. And Sam mellowed out a bit in his old age, you see. I suppose he figured he had his boy, now whatever he got for grandkids was fine with him. Unfortunately, he seems to have passed his original attitude down to Roy." Jean put down her teacup without ever having drunk from it, reached over and clasped Carol's wrist. "I'm so sorry, dear. I hope he isn't mistreating poor little Marcia."
"No, no, not at all," Carol said hastily, and Jean smiled, looking so vastly relieved that Carol was glad she could tell her mother-in-law the truth. "Oh no, he's a very loving daddy toward Marcia. He plays with her every night when he gets home, so she won't get underfoot and maybe get hurt while I'm making dinner for us. He gives me money every payday and tells me I should buy something adorable for Marcia or some nice piece of jewelry for myself. He's loving and attentive, and it's been wonderful with him. It's only…he has this…this hangup about having a boy, and I'm afraid of what he'll do if this one's a girl."
Jean nodded soberly; Martha sat in silence, looking troubled. "If that happens and Roy's hostile toward your new little one, let us know, and we'll straighten him out. Roy needs to know that he can't dictate whether he gets sons or daughters, and that he'd better accept and love any and every baby he fathers."
Carol nodded and reached over with her other hand to squeeze Jean's. "I will, Jean, and thank you. I'm so glad I talked to you. I feel much better now."
Martha brightened at that. "Good, dear, that's wonderful to hear. We'll certainly stay for supper if you still want us to. We haven't spent enough time with our little granddaughter lately."
Carol grinned. "That's terrific, Mom, I'd love to have you both stay. Let me call Dad and Sam, and let them know they're invited too." She rose and headed for the phone, her heart much lighter. Surely Roy was smart enough to see the wisdom of his parents' words…