A Baby In The House. Pamela Bauer

she returned to her hometown, she felt a rush of nostalgia. Nothing had changed since the last time she’d been back, except lawns that had been green were now brown from the extended hot spell.

      The mobile-home park where her mother lived was on the north end of town. It, too, looked the same. A row of long metal boxes parked close together. Her mother was outside her pink-and-gray box home sunning herself on the small patio next to it. A woman Krystal recognized as her neighbor, Edie Fellstrom, was in the reclining lawn chair next to hers. Both wore two-piece swimsuits that were tinier than any Krystal had ever owned. White cotton balls covered their eyes.

      They looked oblivious to everything going on around them. Country Western music played loud enough to drown out the sound of her tires crunching on the gravel. It wasn’t until Krystal slammed her car door that her mother removed the cotton balls and lifted her head.

      “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

      Krystal was used to her mother’s sense of humor and didn’t take offense to the greeting.

      “Hi, Mom.”

      “What’s wrong?” she demanded to know.

      “You make it sound as if I never come to visit you unless something is wrong.”

      Her mother swung her legs to one side of the reclining lawn chair and sat up. “Why aren’t you at work?” she asked suspiciously.

      “When I work Saturdays I get a weekday off. This week it’s Tuesday.” She watched her mother spritz arms already a deep bronze with cold water. “You should watch how much you sit in the sun, Mom. Too much isn’t good for you. It can cause cancer.”

      “Everything causes cancer. Smoking, drinking, eating, breathing…” She shook her head. “I might as well just crawl into a box and wait to die.”

      Krystal knew it was useless to argue with her, so she didn’t.

      Edie said, “You don’t have to worry about your momma, Krystal. She takes good care of herself,” she assured her. “She uses sunscreen. We both do.” She held up a bottle for Krystal’s inspection.

      Krystal forced a weak smile to her lips.

      Her mother said, “Are you hungry? There’s chicken salad in the refrigerator.”

      Only a few hours ago she would have jumped at the chance to eat. Now her appetite had deserted her again, replaced by an indifference to any food. She was learning that when it came to eating, as a pregnant woman she had a short window of opportunity.

      “It’s too hot to eat,” she told her mother.

      “It’s cool inside.”

      Still Krystal shook her head.

      Her mother rattled off several more food options before finally giving up. “Suit yourself. I hope you have more of an appetite by dinnertime. There’s a new Mexican place just up the road I’d like to try. Are you going to stay the night?”

      She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She shrugged and said, “I suppose I can. I don’t have to be at work until noon tomorrow, but I didn’t bring any clothes.”

      Her mother’s brow wrinkled. “You didn’t call to tell me you were on your way, you didn’t bring a change of clothes…what’s up with you? There is something wrong, isn’t there?”

      Edie saw the questions as a sign for her to leave. She reached for a terry-cloth beach wrap draped over the back of her chair. “I gotta get going.”

      “You don’t have to leave because of me,” Krystal told her.

      “I’m not leaving because of you, sweetie. I’m leaving because I’m getting toasted.” She pushed the strap on her bra aside briefly and said, “See?” Then she downed the remainder of her beer, picked up her sunscreen lotion and slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops. Posed to go, she asked Krystal’s mother, “Are you planning to go to the candle party at Jilly’s tonight?”

      “Not with Krystal here I’m not. Tell her to bring the booklet to work and I’ll order something there.”

      “You don’t have to miss it because of me, Mom,” Krystal insisted.

      Her mother flapped her hand in midair. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t really want to go.”

      “Me, either. I was just going to see Jilly’s new place.”

      Krystal turned to her mother. “I think you should go, Mom. I’ll visit Carly while you’re gone.”

      “If you’re sure you don’t mind…it would be kinda fun…” She trailed off.

      “Then it’s settled. You’re going,” Krystal stated firmly.

      Edie waved goodbye and called out as she left, “I’ll pick you up at seven-fifteen.”

      As soon as Edie was gone, her mother turned to Krystal and said, “Okay, so what’s wrong?”

      Despite the fact that Krystal knew it was impossible to lie to her mother and get away with it, she said, “Nothing. Really.”

      Her mother gave her a look Krystal had seen often. It said, I’ll let you think you’re fooling me, but we both know you’re not. She motioned for her to come inside the mobile home. “I want to show you what I’ve done to the place.”

      Because her mother had told her she’d made some changes, Krystal expected to find new curtains on both the kitchen and living room windows. To her surprise, however, the entire inside had been paneled in white, replacing the dark walnut walls.

      She did a three-sixty and spread her hands in wonder. “You did all this yourself?”

      Her mother nodded. “Edie and I went to a couple of those classes they have at the home store in Alex. It’s not the most professional-looking job, but it’s good enough for this place.”

      “It looks nice, Mom,” she told her, noticing she’d made a new slipcover for the sofa. Instead of the blue-and-green-plaid fabric that she and Carly had soiled on many an occasion, there was a polished cotton floral print. “I like what you did to the sofa. It adds a lot of color to the room.”

      “And look. I finally got air-conditioning.” She pointed to a window unit humming quietly as it blasted cold air into the small home. “I had to. This summer is a killer. If you want it colder, just turn the knob.”

      “No, it’s fine,” Krystal said, still looking around in amazement.

      “Sit down. I’ll put on some clothes and then we’ll catch up.”

      Krystal knew it wasn’t going to be easy to tell her about her pregnancy, not considering their history when it came to talking about sex. She hoped that, because her mother had been a single mom, she’d understand that what she needed most of all was a mom who was there for her.

      “Even if you’re not hungry you must be thirsty. There’s beer and soda in the fridge. Help yourself,” her mother said as she moved through the tiny kitchen area.

      “I’ll just have some water, thanks.”

      “I don’t buy that bottled stuff. What I have comes straight out of the tap,” she warned before going into her bedroom and closing the door.

      Krystal pulled a tumbler from the cupboard and filled it with water. Before sitting down at the table, she went over to the wall to look at the pictures hanging there. Most of them were of her and Carly when they were kids. She wondered why her mother didn’t have pictures of them as adults. She’d gone to all the trouble of replacing the paneling in the mobile home, yet she’d hung the same old pictures on the wall.

      She looked to the far end of the living room and, as she expected, there hung the watercolor of the Eiffel Tower—a gift from one of her mother’s friends who’d been to France. It had to be close to twenty years old and had survived several moves in which many of her mother’s