Gladys Connolly was the average, everyday elderly lady approaching the age of seventy. She had lived in the tiny village on the shore of Lake Lachrymose her entire life and had gained somewhat celebrity status. There was not one person in that jolly old place who did not know who she was. She was famous for her kind and generous nature towards animals and small children, and for being a wonderful grandmother to three teenage granddaughters and a small, hyperactive grandson. She was also moderately well-known for her delicious cooking and her obsession with throwing dinners parties for all her dearest companions. But she was perhaps best known for the feud she had with her now-estranged middle child.
The elderly woman sat in the middle of The Anxious Clown, listening to the atmospheric sounds of bussing waiters and low hum of the people chattering around her as she sipped her hot cup of coffee. She couldn't shake the nauseous feeling she had now in her gut, even though she was quite healthy and had no reason to feel nauseous. Gladys had replayed the last heated argument that ended everything a thousand times in her head, the regret unbearable, the want to turn the clock back almost killing her. But when she received that life-changing telephone call a few days earlier, she prayed for a civil meeting, so she would be able to rectify the wrongs of the past. She also prayed for her child's health, well-being and happiness, even though she had no way of knowing that her daughter was healthy and happy. There was a dreadful moment when she believed that her precious baby had gotten terminally ill and was now on her deathbed, but her supportive sons soon assured her that their sister was most likely all right.
" Hello, I'm Matthew, I'll be your waiter this fine afternoon," cried Matthew in a sickeningly cheerful voice. " Would you like a refill?" he asked, gesturing to the coffee cup.
" No, thank you, young man. I'm all right," she said in a timid voice and looked anxiously over her shoulder towards the door.
" Is everything all right, Ma'am?"
Gladys gave the teenage waiter a small, appreciative smile. " I'm fine, thank you. I'm just nervous. I'm meeting my daughter for the first time in twenty years!" she replied.
" Yeah? That's pretty awesome!" Matthew exclaimed. " What's her name?"
" Josephine. She's beautiful."
The waiter gave a thoughtful expression, snapped his fingers and cried out, " I think I know her! Long, blonde hair? Pale skin, tall, skinny? Lived in a big house on the hill?" The woman nodded her head slowly, hanging on his every word. The description seemed to match Jo's appearance, but she had no way of knowing that. " She came in here once with some old guy. It looked like they were on a date. They were kissing and being gross. I haven't seen her since. I think she must've moved or something."
Gladys smiled again, but this time more widely, deciding that she'd give him a bigger tip than usual. " You've been most helpful today, Matthew. Do you have a girlfriend? I have a granddaughter about your age and it looks like-"
" Mom?"
Startled, Gladys whirled around, recognising the soft coo of her daughter's voice, expecting to see the petite little beanpole she knew a long time ago, but instead, laid eyes on the slightly ballooned version of her. The old lady leapt to her feet, stunned speechless, and stepped forward to wrap her cradling arms around her baby girl, never wanting to let go ever again. The young waiter sneaked away into the kitchen smiling, understanding that the two women would need their privacy. Gladys sobbed desperately, temporarily forgetting the hundreds of eyes of the other customers circling around her. Jo, too, wept silently into her mother's shoulder, the diamond-shaped drops dripping onto the back of her blouse. In this tight embrace, Josephine felt a comfort that she hadn't felt since the last time they hugged, and it was an incredible feeling to know that two people would one day depend on her for the same comfort. Gladys was reluctant to let her go, but she did anyway, and beckoned her to sit down.
" How are you then, Mom?" Jo asked, readjusting herself in her seat, subtly patting her belly.
" Oh, you don't have to worry about me. How's life treating you? How is Ike these days? I heard you two got married." The questions kept spilling out. " You look different somehow. Are you eating well? Do you have a job? Tell me everything."
Jo's eyes darted to her mother's cup, gravely saddened by the outburst of enquiries. She entwined her fingers in her lap before continuing. " There's something you should know."
" What, darling, what?" whispered Gladys, leaning forward, grabbing hold of her daughter's hand to comfort her, sensing that something was up.
" We did marry and we were married for a very long time...until August last year…" she began.
" He left you, huh?" the elderly woman guessed, raising an eyebrow, clucking her tongue.
" No, no. He, um, he died in the lake. He was eaten by the leeches," she muttered.
Gladys gave a loud gasp in shock. " Oh, darling!"
She was about to give her another hug, but Josephine stopped her. She had shed her tears for Ike, and she didn't want to be reminded of how much she'd lost. " There's something else you should know. It's why I called you," she whispered, nervously looking over her shoulder as if someone was spying on her. Gladys nodded to indicate that she was listening. " I'm pregnant, Mom. I'm fifteen weeks with twins."
Her mother's sapphire eyes widened and her jaw dropped. " Ike left you with two little babies to raise all on your own? Oh, how-"
Josephine shook her golden head. " They're not Ike's. They're someone else's. I know I rushed things, but we're in love. There's nothing to be done about it. His name is Monty. He's nearly fifty seven – a little older than I am, but that doesn't matter. He's a herpetologist. He's a very nice man, and kind and funny. I love him very much, Mom. He was a friend to me when I needed it the most. You'd like him."
Gladys raised her eyebrows again, not entirely impressed at the sound of this Monty. To her, it sounded as though the man was going through a mid-life crisis, seeing as he had impregnated a woman much younger than he was. " How did he take the news?"
" I haven't told him."
" What? You're fifteen weeks and you haven't told the father? What, are you going to wait until you're sitting on the toilet, crapping those two little kiddies out?" she blurted out, turning a head or two.
A small, helpless smile formed on Josephine's lips. She had forgotten about all the crazy ideas her mother came up with. " I wanted to tell you first. You're my mom!" The mother and daughter hugged again and after a few minutes, Josephine went on to ask, " So, how're Colin and Derek? Is Derek still with his fiancée?"
Gladys grinned and gave a hooting laugh. " Oh! He is! They married not long after you left and now they have three beautiful daughters! Look, I have photographs!" The old lady picked up her handbag, rummaged through her purse until she found a wallet-sized photograph of three young girls, who all strongly resembled their father. " That's Molly in the front there. She's seventeen. And there's Adrienne in the back – she's just turned twelve years old, bless her – and that's Jenny. She'll be fifteen in a few months. She's a heap of trouble, that one."
" Really?" Josephine giggled, gazing at the smiling faces of her nieces.
" Yes! She's a lot like what you used to be, but I don't think she's the sort to leave home." They shared eye contact for a second or two.
" Well, they're gorgeous. But what about Colin? Did that monkey turd ever tie the knot with anyone?" she asked, cheekily using a childhood nickname for her younger brother, resulting in a disapproving look from her mother.
" As a matter of fact, he did. He and Georgina have been together for about ten years now. They have a son now, named Bobby, who is five in September. Here's a picture of him."
She smiled, loving the feeling she had when she listened to the stories about her brothers. " Would you like to see a picture of Monty?"
" As long as he's handsome! And later, I can take you shopping for maternity things. That way we can talk more. My treat."
Jo raised her hands. " No, you don't need to do that."
" No! I'd like to! Plus, you can tell more about this Monty. I can also give tips on how to break the news to him."
Monty chuckled, eagerly rubbing his hands together. The nachos had been dowsed in runny cheese and the beer cans were chilling in the bucket of ice, the television blaring in the background. Since Josephine had disappeared for the day, Monty saw this as an opportunity to waste time with his best friend, Jerome, and wallow in his own disgusting manly habits. Then the door bell rang, and giggling manically like a pre-pubescent schoolboy, the overly enthusiastic herpetologist leapt to his feet and dashed to answer the front door. The toothy grin quickly faded when he saw the tall, slim woman with short, messy brown hair towering over him. Her hands on her hips, she scowled down at him, her theatrical eyebrows knitting together in disapproval. Monty was rendered speechless as she strode into the room, her incredibly high stiletto heels clanking rhythmically on the floor. Timid little Jerome followed, his round pink face slightly disheartened. Astonished, Monty tried to speak, but Jerome explained everything.
" I see you've met my wife, Esme," he said, smiling sheepishly. " I told her that I wanted to come here by myself, but as it turns out, spending time with your spouse is in. She hasn't left me alone for days," he added, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper. " Sorry!"
" That's OK," the old man replied cheerfully, even though deep inside, he was gravely disappointed.
" Esme!" Jerome called out.
Esme, who had been inspecting the Montgomery household closely, returned to the hall, where her doting husband and his weird, gnome-looking friend were talking. She gave a disgusted expression.
" Esme, this is Dr. Montgomery. My friend," the wealthy businessman told his stylish, equally wealthy wife. " Remember? I've told you about him."
" So this is the infamous Esme I've heard so much about?" said Monty politely. " Hi there." He outstretched his arm in order to let his unwanted guest shake his sweaty hand.
Esme didn't breathe a word. Instead, she let her disgust be known in a single, " Ew."
" Darling…" Jerome muttered, clenching his teeth.
" I won't catch his disease, will I?" she asked as if the host was not right in front of her, listening to her every word.
" Darling, why don't you go and see the reptile room? It's pretty interesting in there." Jerome planted a kiss on Esme's cheek before she rolled her pretty hazel eyes and stomped off. " I'm so sorry about that!" he muttered, his dark eyebrows raising with worry.
" It's OK. I used to get that all the time when I was a boy," Monty answered, trying not to sound hurt.
" She's all right most of the time. She just doesn't like talking to people who are out," he explained. " Well, that beer isn't going to drink itself! Come on!" he cried.
" Oh, yes! I've got nachos, too!"
Over the next couple of hours, the two men crowded around the television set, their leering eyes transfixed to the images of beautiful women in revealing outfits on The City's Next Top Model, as they crunched on their snacks and quenched their never-ending thirsts with alcohol, only to be annoyed once or twice by Esme who'd come to her husband to whine. Monty had planned to unfasten the buttons of his shorts, but since there was a woman present, he simply unbuttoned the first button on his shirt, a tuft of curly grey chest hair poking out. After a while, Jerome followed suit, feeling macho as he puffed out his chest like a superhero, despite the fact that his stomach resembled a giant inflatable beach ball. As the show ended and as they finished cheering for the winning contestant, the men quickly grew bored and began to talk about their partners in the most disrespectful manner possible.
" That's nothing," muttered Monty as he drank the last drop of his third beer after Jerome had gabbled on in great detail about Esme's nonexistent libido. " Jo and I haven't done it since December."
Jerome winced. " Ouch!" he exclaimed.
" I know. She's been acting really weird lately," Monty replied. " She says she feels sick all the time and she's been in such a mood."
Jerome burst out laughing as he reached for his fifth beer. " That's like Esme! She blames it on her 'monthly visitor', but I know she does it on purpose, like she gets some sorta thrill outta making me squirm. Women are so weird sometimes!"
A sideward smile spread across Monty's lips. " But you know what the best part is?"
Jerome gave a clueless expression. " What's so good about not doing it?"
" Her, uh, 'puppies' have swollen. Jo always needed help in that department."
" Oh, I am jealous, Mont! If only Esme's beanbags got bi-"
" Ahem!" came a high, fluty voice from the doorway. Esme was standing there, her skinny arms firmly folded, her long-nailed fingers drumming the air. " Jerome, I think we'd better leave. This place is so out! If my friends caught me here, I would never able to show my face in public again, so you will have to pay for a new face!"
" But Esme-"
" No buts! I have to go to the In Boutique. Come on!"
Before Jerome could open his mouth to speak, Esme grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him out of the chair he'd been sitting on, dragging him to the front door. Helpless, the poor suffering husband shot a frightened glance at his best friend, who was staring in his direction in disbelief. Monty could see that one of Esme's long fingernails had caught on Jerome's wrist, drawing blood. Monty stood up, determined to stick up for his friend, but as he plodded stubbornly on behind them, he realised that there was nothing to be done. At that precise moment, happy Josephine stumbled in, chatting to her mother as she fought with the stubborn door lock. Her smile faded when she realised she was staring into the eyes of a woman who was much more attractive than her. When Esme laid her own eyes on this mousy, scruffy, tired looking woman, it felt as though she was about to die of an in-induced heart attack.
" Who's this?" she gasped, turning around to look at Monty in amazement. She looked back at Jo, lowering her body slightly as if she was about to recite a prayer. " She's so in."
" Who's that mad woman?" asked Gladys.
" I don't know, Mom," her daughter answered, shooting daggers at her boyfriend.
" Well, who's that?" asked Monty, pointing at Gladys.
" That just so happens to be my wife!" Jerome shouted, terribly offended that someone had dared to call his wife mad.
In all the confusion, Josephine, Gladys, Esme and Monty asked in unison, " Who the hell are you?"
" This is ridiculous!" Josephine cried. " Monty, this is my mother."
The old man blinked in surprise. The way his girlfriend talked about her mother led him to think that she was old, feeble and sick. He never expected her to look so young and pretty. For a split second, he believed that he'd made the wrong choice in woman. Shyly, he outstretched his arm. " Hello, uh, Mrs…?"
" Gladys Connolly," she piped up, smiling politely and shaking his hand. When they were finished greeting one another, she leant in to Josephine and whispered in her ear, " He's a small fellow, isn't he?"
" This is my best friend, Jerome Squalor, and his wife, Esme," he continued. Gladys shook their hands and said hello, having hello being uttered back at her.
" We were just leaving," Jerome mumbled, gulping nervously, tugging at his wife's arm.
" No, no. We don't have to leave just yet," replied Esme, still gawping at Josephine. " How did you get your hair in that state? It's so gorgeous, so in!"
" Uh…I haven't brushed it in a few days, if that's what you mean," she answered awkwardly.
" Oh! I should've known. I've tried to let my hair get messy, but it's just so naturally tidy. Having an unkempt appearance is in, and girl, you are definitely in!"
Jo blushed. " I am? Thank you. Um, I really don't want to seem rude, but there's an important matter I wish to discuss with that lovely little man over there, which would need some privacy," she said. " I'll phone you later, though."
" You, ring me? Oh! How in!"
" Thanks, Josephine. See you two lovebirds later," Jerome cried and pulled his wife out to the drive to their car to go home.
Monty blushed furiously. " Sorry about that," he mumbled.
" No, it's OK, baby," Jo whispered, poking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, suddenly self-conscious about how to behaviour around her mother.
Gladys glowed with pride, grinning endlessly from ear to ear. " It looks like you two need to be alone."
She gave a wink and hugged her little girl before wandering into the living room. Frowning, Monty gave a confused expression. He had only met the woman a few moments ago and was now alone with his girlfriend to discuss an important matter, whatever that was. " What was that all about?"
Josephine averted her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply in and out, preparing for this massive speech – if only she knew what that was going to be. She swallowed and gradually realised what she was staring at – Monty's hands. The protruding veins, his ugly, stubby fingers, the unclean, short fingernails attached to them. She then knew the words. She slid her hands into his and brought them to the curve in her belly. Monty, quite literally, had no idea what was going on, but gently massaged her stomach, not feeling anything spectacular in it. " What do you feel?" she asked him in a whisper.
The man shrugged. " Don't know," he admitted.
" That's too bad because there are two babies in there," she announced, smiling.
Monty gulped and his eyes grew wide and his skin turned an unhealthy green. Like a tree being sawed down in the deepest depths of the Amazon rainforest, he keeled over backwards, smashing his head hard on the wooden floor. Shocked, Jo rushed to his side to make sure he wasn't seriously injured. After five seconds or so, he regained consciousness. He blinked, his vision blurred, and realised that his glasses had fallen off. Jo spotted them in the corner and gave them to him, and when he put them on his face where they belonged, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook them vigorously.
" Babies?" he asked. " As in twin babies?"
Jo nodded. " Yes, Monty, I'm having twins! I should've told you sooner – I'm already fifteen weeks – but I was afraid of how you'd react."
" How did you think I was going to react? Rip my clothes off and run around naked, screaming my head off with terror until I get run over by the 11:15 train?" Josephine let out a hearty laugh, feeling more at ease. Monty touched her belly again and then kissed her passionately on the lips. " This is great! I'm going to be a dad!" He planted another tender kiss on her belly and rubbed it gently, knowing that he was going to be the best father of all time. " That explains why you've been moody lately," he said after a pause.
" I guess," she whispered faintly.
" Oh, this is fantastic! I always wanted to be a dad until it got too late. But not late enough, it seems," he rattled on. " I never thought Little Monty was ever capable of making twins!"
" Little Monty?" Jo suddenly felt nauseated.
Excitement surging through him, the herpetologist jumped up and pranced across the hall to the living room. " Would you like to stay for dinner, Mrs. Connolly? We're having twins!"