Free ... and Baby Makes Two by Judy Sheehan Page B

mother. They invited her to play then slammed her to the ground and jumped on her. Motherhood stretched Sheila and nearly broke her. Always a pale, slight person, she thought of herself as mousy. Her voice was thin; her hair was wispy. The twins liked her, but they smelled her fear and took full advantage. Over the phone, Sheila's voice had sounded farther away than Florida. She sounded lost and at sea. Jane wondered if Sheila would retreat to their parents’ home.
    One day, little Tyler caught his hand in a door hinge. Sheila cradled the boy while Raoul extricated his hand from the door. She tended his wounds and nurtured him with a healing bowl of ice cream, medically proven to prevent or heal broken bones. Tyler clung to her for the rest of the day. His brother followed obediently.
    After two and a half months, the conversation sounded like this: “I made Cuban pork rolls today. I think they were only okay but Raoul's mom said they were good, and everybody ate them.” And then it was “Tyler kissed me good night for the first time. I almost started crying. Did I tell you that already? Sorry”
    Sheila's voice deepened. She swore (not often, and only in Spanish) and talked about the kids and her spicy adventures in cooking. She no longer wept when she asked about Betty and Howard, but sighed noisily and sometimes she apologized again.
    Tonight, Jane offered a very soft, very edited version of her mother's reaction to the birthday card.
    â€œIt's okay. I thought I'd take a shot, but
Dios Mio,
I didn't mean to cause a scene.”
    It was okay? How could it be okay?
    â€œLook, Janie, I'm not defending Mom here, but I do sort of get it.
    The bond between a mother and kid is so intense. If you feel like your kid betrayed you—how do you come back from that?”
    â€œYou didn't betray them. You got married.”
    â€œI know. But Mom doesn't get it. She'll never see it that way. I was supposed to take care of her, and instead I abandoned her. Anyway, I'm not defending her. I'm just—I have no idea what I'm doing and
so help me, Tyler, you will not live to see six!
Sorry. Hold on.”
    Sheila put the phone down and had a big scene with Tyler. Jane heard little remnants. She fingered the gift and card she had received from Sheila. She opened it, since the Tyler scene might take a while. Sheila had cross-stitched her a
Bienvenidos
wall hanging in vivid colors. So gorgeous. She would hang it in the entranceway right over the wall craters. Sheila had stitched her initials in the bottom right corner: SHE. Sheila Helen Espinoza.
    â€œSorry, sorry, sorry. I'm back. What were we talking about? By the way, did you open my present yet?”
    â€œI just did. It's gorgeous. Gorgeous. How did you do this?”
    â€œIt was fun. I did it during the boys’ naps. It's really relaxing.”
    â€œI love it. Hey Sheil—”
    â€œTyler!”
Sheila covered the phone, but Jane could still hear, “Listen to me, mister. If you get out of that bed again, I'm taking Batman. I mean it!”
    Katharine Hepburn was climbing a giant dinosaur. It toppled, and then Cary Grant pulled her to safety. She told him that he loved her, and he said, “Oh dear …”
    Jane paid attention to signs and knew that this was the wrong time to tell Sheila about her plans. The credits were rolling. It was time to hang up and go to bed.
    â€œSheila, I want to have a baby”
    â€œSorry?”
    â€œI want to be a mom. I want to have a baby. And I'm looking into it. Just thinking about it. Trying it on for size. So. What do you think?”
    â€œUm. I think it's wonderful. It's a wonderful idea. Sorry. I have to make sure the boys are in bed. I better go. Sorry. Bye. I love you.”
    Jane was damned by silence. She felt cold. Why was she assuming that Sheila would be supportive? She closed her eyes and tried to picture her sister's face. It had been too long since they had seen each other. She