I'm seated at the kitchen table at the McAllisters' with Georgie and CeCe. I've decided to get more involved with taking care of the baby. It's partly for practice and partly to keep an eye on Georgie as he navigates fatherhood. He doesn't really have the best ideas, and while I rely more on his intellect than I used to - it's gotten better, really, it has - I'm not confident that he wouldn't make a big blunder and accidentally leave CeCe in a park or a store or something. He left me somewhere once without meaning to, and I was 16.
We're feeding CeCe Cheerios. It's one of the only things the kid is willing to eat. "Open up for Aunt Callie, go aaaaaaah," I say to CeCe lovingly, trying to feed her the Cheerio in my hand.
"You got to eat them Cheerios, they're good for you," Georgie says to the baby. "You can tell 'cause there ain't no cartoon on the box. Now, Cocoa Puffs got that bird on 'em, and he's cuckoo for 'em."
"Solid logic, you should have been in debate club," I say sarcastically, but good-naturedly. Georgie chuckles.
"Maybe she'd like some bananas or some applesauce?" A voice suggests from the sink. We look up and notice Audrey has entered the kitchen. I give a "god, I really wish you didn't exist" courtesy smile. She does not return it.
"She don't like none of that," Georgie says, readily rejecting her idea. Of course Audrey wouldn't know that. She only pays attention to what she thinks is relevant to her and what she can criticise. Typical snooty rich woman stuff. The only rich woman I know that is actually nice and minds her business is Amelia Jameson.
"Any of that," Audrey corrects Georgie. I let out a derisive puff of air through my nostrils. She looks at me in confusion and maybe a hint of disdain before turning her attention back to my brother.
"Any of what?" Georgie asks her, confused. I go back to feeding my niece and trying to stay out of the conversation, because if I don't I know I'll leave this well-decorated and ultra-clean house in handcuffs.
"She doesn't like any of that," Audrey clarifies her correction.
"That's what I said," Georgie responds, still confused at the difference.
"No, you said, 'She don't like none of that,'" Audrey says.
"We're sayin' the same thang," Georgie argues, his frustration peaking.
"No, we're saying the same thing," Audrey corrects again.
Georgie shoots me a glance, silently asking for support. He's not getting anywhere in this argument, and he knows if there's one thing I love, it's arguing.
"Does it really matter, Audrey?" I ask, letting Georgie take over with the feeding so that I can handle this.
"Language matters, Charlotte," Audrey says, her voice dripping with superiority.
"Yes, to people who speak English, not heavily-nonsensical jabber with mostly D and B sounds," I say, raising my eyebrows. I am the firstborn of four. This woman cannot argue like me.
Audrey purses her lips, and says, "Charlotte, I am merely suggesting that Georgie speak in a manner that fosters better communication skills for CeCe's future."
"Okay," I say. I lean back and tilt my head, raising an eyebrow. "And tell me, Audrey. Where did your perfect grammar get you? Coasting through life on your husband's tire money? Seems fulfilling, not to be contributing anything but unwarranted opinions to society."
"I contribute plent-"
I interrupt her, putting my hand up. "Your first mistake was thinking I was done." I say with a sarcastic smirk. "I've noticed you trying to micromanage how my brother and your daughter raise their child from day one. Maybe you should let them handle it, considering your own child didn't speak to you for ages. Ever think about why that was?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Audrey says indignantly. "My relationship with my daughter is my business, and I'll thank you to stay out of it."
"Sure," I nod. "So long as you stay out of Georgie and Mandy's business concerning their own child. Georgie and CeCe are my family, and your daughter too, by marriage. And Audrey, I don't back down from defending my family."
"This is absurd," Audrey chides. "You're just trying to provoke me."
"With all due respect - which isn't much, by the way - if I were trying to provoke you, you'd know it," I say with a cocky smirk.
"You're insufferable," Audrey huffs.
"You're stuffy," I say, turning back to CeCe. "You're also engaging in an argument with a pregnant 18-year-old guitarist. You're out of your wheelhouse. It's fine."
"You are impossible to reason with," she comments haughtily.
"I make sure of that," I nod, with my eyes on my niece, attempting to feed her again.
Audrey lets out a disgruntled sigh and exits the room.
"How do you do it?" Georgie asks.
"Easy. Wear 'em down, you know that," I chuckle at my twin brother.
"True, you got that down pat," he chuckles.
"So, you're not really going to try to be all prim and proper around CeCe, right?"
Georgie shakes his head. "Nah, you think I'm gonna let some fancy lady tell me how to talk around my daughter? That ain't me. As long as CeCe knows what I'm sayin', it don't matter how I talk."
"I mean, we shared a womb and I don't talk like you," I shrug, "who says CeCe's gonna talk the same?"
"CeCe's gonna find her own way, like you and me did. And she don't need no richie-pants tellin' her otherwise, ain't that right, CeCe?" Georgie says playfully, gently poking CeCe's arm.
CeCe giggles, and it's like all the tension in the room disappears. I watch Georgie and CeCe interact, and I realise it's moments like these that I'll get to have with the little soul growing inside of me. I feel a little overwhelmed knowing that in just a few short months, I'll have a whole person that came from me and the person I…thought I loved.
No, I definitely loved him. He just didn't love me. That makes me feel unwelcome emotions. "Hey, Georgie, I think I'm gonna head home," I say, standing.
"You alright?" he raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, yeah, just miss my bed," I say, trying to give the words a joking edge so that he thinks I'm being funny about it.
He chuckles, seemingly buying it. "Alright. Have a good nap. Say hi to Mom and Dad for me."
I nod, and pick up my things. I exit the house, feeling far more upset than I should be about something that I didn't think I was upset about anymore.
I never get a break, do I?
…
I wake up from my nap (turned out I actually needed one, isn't that funny) to hear a loud, persistent knock on the front door.
"Alright! I'm comin', I'm comin'," Dad says, annoyed. I'm assuming he was watching sports or something and didn't want his George time to be interrupted.
"Hey, is that bitch here?" I hear Renee's voice ask, followed by an "Ow," like she'd been hurt.
"Since you're Charlotte's friends, I'm assumin' that's who y'all are lookin' for," I hear my father say.
"Friends is a strong word," I hear Renee say, followed by "Ow, God, Jackie, stop that."
I come to the door. "Hi?" I ask, confused as to why my band is here. Dad takes this opportunity to return to his armchair.
"Hey, you ready for band practice?" Denise asks, a confrontational tone in her voice.
"Don't tell me you all came here to try to convince me to go to band practice," I say with a hint of dread in my voice. I wave them inside. "Let's all go to my room for a second."
"Why would we want to be in your room?" Renee asks with disdain.
"It's either that or the ditch, Renee, take your pick," I retort as we enter. Jacqueline laughs out loud.
Renee raises her hands in defence. "Extreme, but I respect it. Fine."
"I don't think I've been in here in a few years," Gina thinks aloud, "looks nice."
"Thanks. Little interior decorator there set it up for me," I nod toward Jacqueline, who smiles a little.
"I'll give you like $5 to do my room," Gina says to Jacqueline, who puts a hand to her chest, feigning offense.
"You think so little of my work?" she asks dramatically.
"No, my wallet thinks so little of being full," Gina laughs.
"Maybe if you got a real job instead of taking Giovanni's money his parents wire to him, it wouldn't be like that," Denise shrugs.
"Uncalled for," Gina pouts. "Gio gives me that money."
"We're getting off track here," Renee says, rolling her eyes. "Callie, why are we here?"
"Like, in the universe? I don't know, that's a lot of science," I say, stalling with humour.
Renee stares at me blankly, unamused. "Callie."
"Fine, fine," I sigh. "I guess I'll have to tell you some time, now's as good as any."
Denise notices the shift in my demeanour. "Everything okay, Cal?" She looks concerned.
"Yeah, yeah," I hesitate for a second. "It's just that there's a reason I've been so absent. I'm dealing with something."
"Spit it out," Renee says.
"Don't rush me!" I snap.
She puts her hands up again. "You're on one today, dude."
I take a deep breath. "The truth is…I'm pregnant," I announce.
A gasp comes from everyone but Jacqueline, who already knows. Renee begins to laugh, which earns her another punch in the side from Jacqueline. "Stop hittin' me," she snaps.
"It ain't feckin' funny!" Jacqueline shoots back.
"Of course it is. She has to be jokin', right? She can't actually be pregnant. That's so…not Callie," Renee says, some confusion slipping into her tone. She tilts her head.
"When is pregnancy funny, anyway?" Denise asks.
"If you're pregnant by a rodeo clown or something, I guess," Gina shrugs. Denise snorts.
I'm used to this. This is how the band copes with surprising news - with humour.
"Guys, problem at hand," Jacqueline says, gesturing to me.
"Right, right, sorry," Denise says, folding her arms. "Are you okay, Callie? Is there anything we can do?"
I shrug. "I'm still feeling this out, myself."
"So, who's the daddy?" Denise asks.
"Liam," I say begrudgingly.
"Ah, damn," Gina says. She pinches the bridge of her nose.
"Trust me, I know," I agree. "It hasn't been fun interacting with him. I went to his house recently and the discussion there was…messy."
"Messy?" Renee asks.
"Define 'messy'," Denise urges.
"Like, 'Liam's not going to Duke and his dad wishes he didn't exist' messy." I say.
"Damn, that is heavy," Jacqueline comments, looking at the other girls, who nod in agreement.
"Declan is so nice, I never would have thought he'd be his own son's biggest hater," Denise muses.
"So, is it he wishes Liam didn't exist because he's not going to Duke, or…?" Renee asks.
"No, Declan wishes Liam didn't exist because Liam exists. Apparently it crushed his dream of being a musician," I say.
"Oh, and now he's the wealthy owner of the biggest record store chain in Texas. Boo hoo," Jacqueline says, rolling her eyes.
"I'd be pretty upset if a kid popped up and ruined my dreams," Renee says.
"But would you hold it against them?" Denise asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Probably. Who else would there be to blame?" Renee asks innocently.
Jacqueline groans in annoyance. "Please, never have children."
"Someone should have told Callie that," Renee snorts.
"Ay, no pullin' me underneath that bus with you," I waggle my finger at her. She rolls her eyes.
We hear another knock on the front door.
"Expecting someone?" Jacqueline asks.
"We don't know who to expect right now. We've had colleges coming in left and right hoping to meet our boy genius," I say sarcastically. "Get him to go to grad school with them."
"Which colleges?" Denise asks.
"Stanford, MIT, University of Toronto," I begin to list.
"Canadians? Gross," Gina scoffs.
"I like what they've done for pancakes," I say, half-joking.
"I don't know. I don't really trust foreigners," Gina shrugs.
We all look at her.
"What?" She asks, seemingly not realising the irony.
"Regina," Denise says slowly. "Where is Giovanni from?"
"Texas, right?"
"Oh, my god," Denise bursts into laughter.
"He's talked about Italy before, right?" I ask, holding in laughter of my own.
"I assumed he meant Little Italy."
There's a pause.
"In…In San Antonio?" Jacqueline asks, seeming genuinely concerned. Gina nods slowly.
"Gina, they don't sound like that in Little Italy!" Renee says. "I'm from San Antonio, I should know."
Gina's lips form into a thin line. "I'm a little dumb," she nods.
"It's fine," Denise shrugs. She turns to me. "So, you're definitely not going to band practice?"
"Right," I nod.
The girls look disappointed, but seem to understand.
Denise thinks for a moment. "What if we just put the band on hiatus until you're ready to come back?"
I get a little worried about that. "I don't know, Denise, it could be years before I can."
"I personally have no problem waiting years, trust me," Jacqueline chimes in. Denise nods in agreement.
"What?" Renee asks incredulously. "What are we supposed to do until then?"
"Work on different projects," Gina answers.
"Is that what you're calling Giovanni now? You're calling that Italian, not Texan, a pro-" Denise starts, but Gina interrupts her.
"Let it go!" Gina says over her.
Denise laughs again.
"Jacqueline, can you hit her?" Gina asks.
Jacqueline just laughs.
I look around at my friends. I'm lucky to have them. I'm lucky that none of them were (too) harsh about me being pregnant. I'm lucky they're willing to put the band on hold for me. They may be a little childish sometimes, but aren't we all? If I'm being quite honest with you, and I'm good at that, I wouldn't change a damn thing.
…
"So, we've narrowed it down to five schools," My father says as the family (minus Georgie, Mandy, and CeCe) are gathered in the living room, trying to help Sheldon chose where he wants to go to grad school. "We got Caltech and Stanford in California-"
"The left coast." MeeMaw comments.
"Mom," my mother chastises, finding it impolite.
"It is," MeeMaw retorts.
I look away so that I can roll my eyes without her seeing it, not wanting to start anything with her right now.
"Can I continue?" Dad asks, clearly annoyed.
"Also known as the land of fruits and nuts," MeeMaw says, obviously needing to finish her closed-minded thought. "Continue."
"And on the East Coast, we got MIT, Harvard and Princeton," Dad announces.
"Look at you, killer," I tease, nudging my little brother. He glances at me, unamused.
"Damn Yankees," MeeMaw comments.
"We can't move the schools, Connie," Dad says, his irritation with MeeMaw's interruptions growing.
"I quite like the North," I say, earning a glare from MeeMaw. "They have good food."
"Texans have good food, they have weird accents and bad attitudes," MeeMaw responds.
I chuckle. "Whatever you say, MeeMaw."
Sheldon speaks up. "There's also East Texas Tech."
"Is that a school that you're considering?" Mom asks, a concerned look on her face. I understand her concern. East Texas Tech is…well, it's a hole. Compared to what it's up against, at least. Shouldn't Sheldon want better for himself?
"I have friends there, and it's close to all of you," Sheldon answers Mom.
"Why would you want to be close to us?" Missy asks, not liking the idea of having Sheldon so close.
"Missy." Dad says as a warning, and Missy doesn't speak again. "This is your decision, but best I understand, these other schools are the major leagues, and East Texas Tech is T-ball."
I scoff, knowing Sheldon won't understand that.
"Please don't make sports analogies," Sheldon requests.
"Fine," Dad sighs. "These schools are like… Superman and East Texas Tech is like… regular man?" he tries.
"Better, I think," Sheldon says.
"If you're worried about being far away, they're all offering to pay for travel expenses so you can come home for the holidays," Mom informs Sheldon in an attempt to sweeten the deal.
"But to be clear, you don't have to," Missy adds. I shake my head at her, but she shrugs in response. I lean aside to her, "Heard you got an A by the way, real proud of you," I whisper. She smiles a little.
"And we can also come and visit you," Mom is saying to Sheldon.
"Ooh, free trip. I like that," MeeMaw comments.
"You were just complaining about these places," Dad says, his frustration returning with MeeMaw's words.
"I can complain on a beach," MeeMaw says.
"This is a difficult decision," Sheldon says.
"Which is why we're all here to help you make it," Mom assures him.
Suddenly, the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song begins to play. Missy has turned the TV on, and we all turn to look at her.
"Are we not done? It- It felt done," Missy defends.
I scoff and take the remote from her, turning it off. "We're gonna help our brother, Missy."
Missy rolls her eyes. "Fine."
"No need," Sheldon says, formal as always. "I need some time to think this over. Missy can go ahead and watch her television."
"Thank you, Sheldon," Missy says, snatching the remote back from me.
"Charlotte, can I talk to you in my garden?" Mom asks.
I frown, but nod. "Sure, I guess."
I follow her to her prayer garden. "What's this about?" I ask her.
"Well, I've been prayin' a lot, about you and Liam, and that sweet baby of yours," she begins.
"About me and Liam? What about us?" I raise my eyebrow, very very confused.
"Look, Charlotte. Sometimes the Lord gives us problems so that we can prove to Him our faith," Mom says, clearly hesitant to get to the point right away.
"And?" I ask suspiciously.
"Maybe He gave you this situation with Liam for you to fix…by getting married," Mom says.
There it is. "You want me to marry Liam?"
"God wants you to marry Liam."
"Tell God we all want things, that doesn't mean we get them," I say, my anger surfacing. I begin to walk away.
"Charlotte-"
"No. No," I say, whirling back around to face her. "NO. You may have forced Georgie into marrying Mandy, but I will not - and listen good - I will not be marrying Liam. Not in a million years, and certainly not to appease your god."
"It isn't about appeasing-"
"Enough, enough. I said no. Surely He knows what that means," I say, venom in my tone. I storm back into the house. I shut myself in my room for the rest of the night, refusing to answer my mother's persistent knocks. After a while, she gives up.
I don't know what my future holds, but I know it doesn't include me being Charlotte Jameson. I don't know if I'd want a future if it did.