Ten Mountain Men’s Baby by Nicole Casey
Ryker
You’d think I’d be capable of setting the table in less than a half-hour. There were only four of us: my mother, my father, my sister, and me. But I kept changing the placement of each item. The cutlery was too close to the plates; it looked cramped, tense, exactly how I feared the conversation would be. Then the cutlery was spread too far apart. Would they interpret that, even subconsciously, as my expressing a need or desire for distance?
I’d cooked for my family before. They weren’t difficult guests. But this was going to be a difficult conversation, one that had been a long time coming.
My sister, Amy, arrived early. Thank goodness! Even though she had no idea why I wanted everyone together and what news I was planning on springing on them, she could appreciate my anxiety for socializing with our parents. She had three years on me—plus the two years when I was in a foster home before my parents had adopted me—so she knew even better than I did how disconnected and stubborn they could be.
“It smells great,” Amy said, as she passed from the foyer into the living room.
“Stuffed mushrooms,” I said.
“Ah, Dad’s favorite.”
“And I’ve got a green bean casserole in the oven, Mom’s recipe with my own special touch.”
She turned to me with a serious expression on her face. “The place is spotless. Looks like you’re going all out. Suspicious.”
I shrugged. “I like to keep a clean place.”
“I bet.” She smirked and looked at me out of the corner of her eyes. “If I know you as well as I think I do, I’d say you’re planning to drop a bombshell on us tonight.”
I glanced at my watch then straightened the magazines on the coffee table for the tenth time.
Amy took my arm and looked at me with wide eyes. “What is it?”
I feigned a look of incomprehension.
“Just a hint.”
I put my empty hands out, open palms up.
She paced back and forth, then stopped and looked at me. “Are you gay?”
I cocked my head to the side and frowned.
“Did you get Lucy pregnant?”
“Wow. You’re all over the place. It’s nothing like that. Just relax. You’re stressing me out.”
“Then tell me.”
I walked away from her and into the open kitchen. “Care for a glass of wine?”
Her eyes got bigger still. She pointed at me and declared, “You’re joining a cult.”
I shook my head.
“Not a cult, but you’ve decided to go off on a spiritual quest, go to India, climb the Himalayas or something.”
Now I pointed at her. “You’re getting closer.”
“You got Lucy pregnant, so you’re running off to India to join a cult.”
The doorbell rang.
“Ah, saved by the bell.”
* * *
My parents were in a cheerful mood. The appetizers went off without a hitch. We talked about movies we’d seen and books we were currently reading. Every now and again, Amy would glance at me and give me a stern “when are you going to drop it” look. I waited till the main dish was served, spicy pork chops and green bean casserole, before launching into my prepared speech.
“Mom, Dad, Amy, I’ve invited you here tonight for a special reason. I have come to an important decision.” I paused to make sure I had a captive audience.
Amy looked to be on the edge of her seat, while both Mom and Dad looked quite concerned.
“I’ve decided to go on an expedition.”
“An expedition?” Mom repeated. “What kind of expedition?”
“I’ve decided to do the thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail.”
Mom furrowed her brow and pulled back in disbelief. “Appalachia? But you’ve only just started your residency. How are you going to—”
“Mom,” Amy butted in, “let him say what he’s got to say.”
“Sorry, dear,” said Mom as she straightened in her chair, folded her napkin, and set it back onto her lap.
“Well, actually, I’ll be teaming up with a volunteer program, ‘Medicine on the Trail.’ So, it won’t affect my residency. Actually, it will look really good on my resume.”
Dad nodded. “That sounds great, Ryker. I think that’s a smart decision.”
Mom glanced worriedly at him.
Amy continued looking at me, still on the edge of her seat. “But that’s not why you’re going, is it? That’s not the main reason?”
I shook my head. “Actually, it’s been on my mind for some time now. And when I heard about the volunteer program, well, everything just fell into place.”
Mom glanced at Dad, then at Amy, then at me. “What’s been on your mind for some time now? What is Amy talking about? What is this ‘real reason?’”
“Mom, I’m twenty-five. I’m a man.”
The carefully crafted speech I’d prepared and practiced—the one where I tell my parents how much I love them; how good they’ve been to me adopting me, raising me, loving me; how grateful I am for all they’ve done for me; the smooth segue into how I need to find out more about myself, who I am, where I come from, and how that doesn’t nor will it affect how I feel about them—that carefully crafted speech got jumbled and confused in my head and came out as a mess of sentimental and incoherent declarations. I stumbled through it while Mom fixated on my eyes with a worried, disapproving expression on her face.
“I think it’s a great idea,” said Dad.
“You do?” Mom threw him an accusatory look.
“Sure,” he said. “It’s natural for a boy to want to know where he comes from, to find his roots.” He lifted his glass to me. “I wish you the best of success with your quest, Son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Mom ruffled then refolded her napkin and placed it angrily onto the table. “Well, I think it’s foolish.”
“Mom!” Amy exclaimed.
“You’ve only just started your residency,” she said to me. “And you’re going to, what, throw away four years of medical school to go trekking around in backwoods hillbilly country?”
“Mom!” Amy protested.
“Honey,” said Dad as he put an arm around Mom, “you weren’t listening. He said he’s going to do volunteer work. He’s not—”
Mom interrupted to throw another objection at me. “And what about that lovely girl you’ve been seeing? Lucy. Is she going with you on this”—she waved her hand in the air as if she needed help conjuring the words— “on this fantasy quest?”
“Now, honey,” said Dad, taking Mom’s hand in his. “What’s gotten into you?”
Mom pulled her hand free. “I knew this day was coming,” she muttered.
“Mom,” I said, “I’m not throwing away medical school. There’s nothing to be upset about.”
She looked at me sternly. “No? Nothing to be upset about?”
I shook my head. “I’m just going away for a few months and doing some volunteer work.”
“And to look for your birth parents,” she said.
I nodded. “And to look for my birth parents.” I put my hands out defensively. “Not necessarily to find them, just to learn about them, learn about me.”
Mom shook her head and looked down at her lap, despondently. “Honey, we’ve been over this before. We don’t know who your birth parents are. You were abandoned.”
“Mom!” Amy objected and threw her a scorned look.
“What?” Mom looked at Amy and raised her shoulders. “He’s heard this before,” she said, looking back at me, “though it’s not like he’s listened any.”
Amy stood up for me. And Dad repeated words of support and encouragement. Mom, however, could not be consoled from the chagrin the news brought her, nor could she be convinced that this trip was a good idea for me.
We ate dessert in relative silence, interrupted by Dad’s awkward attempts to broach a new and lighter subject. They left. Amy offered to stay behind and help clean up, but I told her I preferred to be on my own.
I wasn’t surprised that Mom was hurt. I could appreciate how potentially upsetting it could be to raise a child, sacrifice so much to make sure he grows up loved and cared for and with all the chances to succeed… then to have that child, now a young man, want to go off in search of his birth parents, the ones who had abandoned him, who never did anything or gave anything to provide or care for him. I could appreciate how potentially frustrating and disappointing that might be for her.
But what did come as a surprise to me was the disparaging things she said about the mountain people of Appalachia. I’d always taken her for a free-thinking, liberal type, and to hear her speak with such closed-mindedness, that was the most surprising thing about the evening and the most disappointing.
Even though I wasn’t set to depart for another six days, that night, I packed my things. I found there was something quite therapeutic about packing: touching physical objects and organizing them to prepare for a potentially life-changing event. I felt much better when I’d finished. I phoned my dad and thanked him again for his words of support.
He told me not to worry about Mom. “She just wants what’s best for you,” he said.
“I know, Dad.”
“Don’t worry about her, Son. I’ll talk to her. She’ll come around.”
“Thanks.”
“As long as you keep in touch regularly while you’re in Appalachia.”
“I will, Dad. I will definitely keep you updated.”
