Chapter 9

"Well, I really should be heading out. Have to wash my hair tonight, you know, got to look good for work. Not that anyone pays attention to the lady in the window with all the naked mannequins around me." Rhoda was on her game, ready, able and willing to make fun of herself, to play up the single, sad spinster character for the sake of Mary's parents who sat upright on the couch.

"Oh, no," Mary grabbed her before she could skedaddle out of the apartment and away from what was about to unfold. They hadn't discussed Rhoda being there, not for this. "Please, Rhoda. Stay. Have coffee with us."

"What has gotten into you tonight, Mary?" Dottie, her somewhat observant mother, was catching on to Mary's skittish act. "Let the poor girl go. If she needs to do her hair, she needs to do her hair. And we've hardly heard a word from you all evening." Which was certainly true. Rhoda had carried the entire conversation at the restaurant all evening. She was exhausted.

"Yeah, Mare. Your parents want to talk to you." Rhoda patted Mary's hand where it rested on her arm.

"Can't you…can't you put off your hair washing for just a little bit longer?" Mary's eyes shifted back to the couch, practically trying to levitate her neighbor back into the room. If only her eyes had been so powerful. "Please." Mary whispered harshly, the panic rising in her face, her grip tightening against Rhoda's arm so that it was quite painful.

Rhoda could not deny her this. She needed a hand to hold. "Fine, okay kid. I'll stay." Rhoda sulked over to the chair furthest from Mary's parents.

"Daddy, do you want more coffee?" Mary's relief was evident in her voice.

"That would be lovely." Walter nodded blandly.

"I'll take another cookie." Rhoda held up her hand, knowing she was in for a wild ride now.

"I'll get you some more coffee," Mary patted her on the shoulder as she passed – both a chastisement for the cookie comment and in thanks for not leaving.

"Whatever you have to say to us, you should just say it." Dottie was getting agitated, for she knew – instinctively – that Mary had something important that she needed to tell them. Dottie was perceptive that way.

Mary returned from the kitchen with a fresh tray of coffee for everyone. With her hostess duties fulfilled, she was left to sit on the remaining chair and face the facts. "Well, there is something I would like to tell you. Both of you." Mary glanced between her parents apprehensively.

Rhoda could sense the tension in the air, could tell her friend was afraid in that moment. Mary Richards, whom had grown and blossomed in the years since Rhoda had first met her, was hardly ever frightened anymore. But now, before her parents, she was the stammering, slightly uncertain woman Rhoda had first met.

Rhoda covered Mary's hand, which was gripping the arm of her chair forcefully, with her own.

"Well come out with it, Mary. What do you have to say that's so important?" Dottie urged her, eyes sweeping over her daughter's hand being held by her neighbor. "If you don't say something soon we might just start to assume…"

"Assume what, mother?" Mary's eyes were wide.

Rhoda could sense just what her mother was about to infer. She could feel her gaze on their hands now firmly clasped together.

Dottie laughed and sat back in her seat. "It's preposterous."

"What, mother?" Mary was getting flustered now.

Rhoda rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

"I always knew that you liked her very much, since you were always talking about her when you moved to Minneapolis. And I know you two have grown very close, but, really, darling…"

"Mother, what are you talking about?" Mary followed her mother's gaze to Rhoda, eyes trailing down to their firmly clasped hands. Her face flushed bright red, her cheeks so rosy. And if they had not been about to tell her parents about the baby – and, in fact, if her parents had not been there at all – Rhoda would have kissed her for looking so adorably dopey and oblivious. "Mother!" Mary dropped Rhoda's hand, mortified. "That's not at all what I intended to tell you. I'm pregnant."

Dottie was about to laugh in relief when Mary's words set in. It was like a slap across the face. She looked stricken. "You're…you're what?"

"Yes, mother. Daddy." Mary looked between them. Rhoda was quite certain this was the exact look she'd given her parents when she was just a little girl and had gotten into trouble. She had a childish tail-between-the-legs, puppy-dog-eyed look that made Rhoda want to wrap her arms about her. "I'm going to have a baby."

"Oh," Dottie gasped.

Walter looked perplexed and uncertain as to what to say. He finally cleared his throat. "Where's the man who got you into this mess? I'd certainly like to speak with him."

"No, daddy, he's not…he's not important." Mary stuttered, knowing full-well that Peter was not to blame.

"Not important?" Dottie was indignant. "Not important, Mary. We will not have a bastard child in our family. Whoever this man is should go about this properly and marry you."

"He already proposed, mother." Mary was getting angry. Rhoda wished she could make this easier for her.

"Well wonderful, when shall we make the wedding for? We'll have to do it soon, before you start showing…" Dottie looked over the moon.

"I'm not marrying him, mother." Mary stood up, she began pacing back and forth as her parents started hounding her with questions.

Rhoda felt her stomach twisting, her breathing shallow. What was Mary going to do, to say now that she was backed into this corner? Rhoda had a feeling that Mary, truthful Mary, would come out with it.

"I'm not going to marry Peter!" Mary finally shouted over her parents, silencing them.

"I knew it was him." Dottie growled.

"I am not going to marry Peter because I'm in love with Rhoda." Mary gestured to Rhoda.

Rhoda felt her mouth go dry, her body rigid as she felt all eyes in the room shift to her.

There was silence.

She wanted to shrivel up and disappear into the folds of the chair. Instead she felt her body caving inwards, found she could not speak, nor move.

And then Dottie started laughing. Loudly.

Rhoda felt her heart pounding in her chest.

"Mother, what is so funny?" Mary crossed her arms over her chest.

"I was only joking earlier, darling. Oh, Mary. Is it April Fools? Are you trying to give your father and me a heart attack?" Dottie stood up then, facing her daughter. "If you're not pulling our leg about the baby then we would like to have you and Peter over for dinner to discuss the wedding plans. I'm going to assume that Rhoda is just your dearest friend, as she has always been, as I have always enjoyed her as, and we'll pretend as if we've never spoken of it. Is that clear, darling?" Dottie patted her daughter on the arm.

"No, mother. It's not clear at all." Mary moved to Rhoda, taking her hand in her own. "I love Rhoda and I would like for you to recognize it. I will not be marrying Peter."

Dottie waved her hand as she moved to collect her coat. "I think we've all had enough for the evening. Come along, Walter. It's getting late. Good night, Rhoda." Dottie bid her farewells without evening glancing back.

Walter was still seated on the couch, watching his daughter and his wife go at it. He met Rhoda's frightened gaze, his eyes unreadable. Everyone jumped a little when Dottie closed the door behind herself in dramatic fashion.

"Daddy," Mary sounded near tears. "Daddy, please say something."

Walter looked down at his hands. "Rhoda."

Rhoda's heart hammered in her chest. "Yes, sir." She felt the sir was a good addition.

"How do you intend to provide for my daughter and this child?" He couldn't face her as he asked.

Rhoda swallowed, having pondered the same question. "I'll…I can move up at work. There's a management position available at the store…and I…I fully intend on giving her, on giving this child everything they need. I – Mr. Richards. I really love your daughter." Rhoda felt the words flowing from her lips, as if Mary's hand was giving her strength.

Walter nodded and stood up. "I should be going. Your mother will freeze to death without the keys to the car." He moved to put on his coat, still unable to look at his daughter or Rhoda. He paused on the threshold. "She'll come around. Just give her a few days." And with that he left.