Dawn stood in the doorway, chewing her lower lip, not sure what to do. “Where’s Mitch?”
Her mother’s head lifted slightly. “He went to work.” She turned mechanically, removed the lid from a frying pan, and scooped a portion of scrambled eggs onto a plate. She brought it to the table, poured a glass of orange juice, and moved away.
Dawn poked at her breakfast. The hollow feeling in her stomach had nothing to do with hunger. She didn’t know what to say to break the silence. Her mother went back to the sink and stood there, staring out the window, arms wrapped around herself. Did she have a stomachache, too? After a few minutes, she went into the laundry room off the kitchen and began sorting clothes.
Dawn scraped her uneaten eggs into the garbage disposal. Rinsing her plate and silverware, she put them in the dishwasher. Trembling inside, she went to the laundry room door. She gulped. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Her voice came out tight.
Her mother went still. She didn’t look up. “If you want to talk, call Granny when you get home from school.”
It didn’t matter that she’d won. Dawn felt awful. She wanted to say she was sorry; she didn’t hate her; she’d just been so mad. She wished she could take the words back, but they still hung in the air like a foul stench.
24
Dawn called Granny as soon as she got home from school. “Mommy said I can call you-”
“I know, sweetie. Your mother called me. She didn’t tell me what made her change her mind. Do you know?”
Dawn knew, but didn’t want to say. “She said she knows I love you.” That was true, at least.
“Oh. Good. I was afraid… Oh, never mind. Why don’t you tell me all about your day, honey? I’m eager to hear everything. Who did you play with?”
Dawn didn’t want to tell Granny it was the worst day of her life. Her teacher asked a question twice before Dawn realized she was supposed to answer. Everyone laughed. She spent recess crying in the back stall of the girls’ bathroom. On the way home, she sat in the back of the bus, worrying about how things would be when she got home, but Mom acted normal, even asked how Dawn’s day had gone. Dawn could muster only one word: “Fine.” Her mother sighed and said she could go call Granny.
“You’re a little quiet tonight, sweetie.”
Dawn couldn’t think of anything to say. “I have homework, Granny.” It was true.
“I suppose I should get Papa’s dinner going. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too.” Dawn hung up and put her head in her arms.
When Mitch came home, he stuck his head in her room to say hello. “Apologize yet?”
She shrugged. “I tried.”
Later, Mitch called her to the dinner table. He talked easily about his day. Mom paid close attention to everything he said. She glanced in Dawn’s direction several times, passed serving dishes, asked if Dawn wanted more milk, more mashed potatoes. But whenever Dawn looked at her, Mom turned away without meeting her eyes. When Mom started to clear dishes, Dawn picked up her own. Mom held her hand out for them. “I can do that.”
Mom carried the dishes to the sink. Dawn looked at Mitch, hoping he could do something to make things better. He gave her a sad smile. Pushing his chair back, he went to her mother. He draped his arm around her shoulders and whispered something in her ear.
Feeling left out, Dawn wandered away from the table.
Without consulting her, Mom registered Dawn for soccer. “Your friends play, don’t they? Mitch is going to be your coach.”
“Assistant coach,” Mitch clarified. “Football is my game. Joaquin Perez is coach. He knows everything there is to know about soccer.” He grinned at Dawn. “We’ll both be learning from scratch.”
On the first day of practice, she spotted four classmates: Torie Keyes, Tiffany Myers, Leanne Stoddard, and Susan Mackay. They had all played soccer since kindergarten. “Swarm ball,” Torie laughed.
After several practices, Coach made Dawn a forward. “You’re a natural.” Mom encouraged Dawn to invite her friends over to play. Soon they were practicing soccer on the big lawn behind the house.
Dawn’s days filled with activity. She went to church with Mitch, though her mother never attended, staying home alone. Mitch said Mom liked being alone with God, and she had fellowship when she went to AA twice a week in Santa Rosa.
1979
Dawn dumped her backpack in her bedroom, changed for soccer practice, and went searching for Mitch, eager to leave. “Mitch! Where are you? It’s time to go!”
“We’re in here!”
She found Mom and Mitch sitting close together in the family room. Mitch had a grin on his face. Her mother looked oddly uncomfortable. “What’s going on? We’re going to be late for practice.”
“Sit down, Dawn. We have some good news to share.” He kissed Mom’s temple. “Go ahead. Tell her.”
“She’ll take it better from you.”
Mitch laughed, his eyes alight. “We’re going to have a baby! You’re going to have a little brother or sister about six months from now. What do you think of that?”
Dawn didn’t know what to say. “That’s great.” But was it?
“I think she’s in shock.” Mitch kissed Mom again and stood. He clapped his hands on Dawn’s shoulders. “You’ll get used to the idea.” He turned her around. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Her mind had gone blank.
“Soccer practice!”
Mitch told Coach Joaquin, and a few players overheard. Soon everyone knew Dawn’s mother was pregnant. Dawn swung between embarrassment and worry. Where would she fit into the family after a baby came?
“Oh, wow, do I pity you,” Torie said. “It’s bad enough when you have a brother or sister close to your own age, but eight years apart… The baby will be the star, and you’ll be the babysitter.”
Soon after soccer season ended, Granny called and asked to speak with Mom. Dawn knew something was wrong. She handed the telephone over to Mom and stayed around to watch and listen.
“What? When? Why didn’t you call us sooner?” Mom sounded shaken. “We’ll come right down… Why?… Does he have to be so stubborn? This weekend then.” She listened again, her expression growing more troubled. “I don’t know, Mom.” She glanced at Dawn and then turned away. “The weekend. A couple of days.” She hung up.
She held up calming hands at Dawn’s flurry of questions. “Papa had a mild heart attack, but he’s okay. He’s spending another two nights in the hospital just to be sure.”
Dawn started to cry. Didn’t people die of heart attacks? When her mother put her arms around her, Dawn stiffened at the unexpected show of affection. Mom let go and stepped back.
“He’ll be home for a while,” Mom added. “On bed rest. We’ll go see him this weekend. Granny wants you to stay at the house.”
Papa looked more disgruntled than sick when Dawn came flying into the house. He was in plaid pajamas and a robe, wearing old, worn leather slippers and sitting in his recliner in the living room. When he started to get up, Granny told him she’d march him straight back to bed if he did. He grinned at Dawn. “Granny’s got her nursing cap on. Heaven help me. Climb on up here and give me a hug!”
Mom had noticed Oma’s car was missing. Granny said she was gone again. “She came home to see Trip-I
