Mike’s Secret Spilled

Riley felt like a conspirator. She and Mike were going over various scenarios on how to bring up the topic of his birth with other family members. Donal’s daughter was having a confirmation party, but Mike’s revelation would really kill the moment.

Finally he conceded that, “Maybe it’s best to leave things as they are.”

“Maybe,” Riley sort of agreed. “But if you can’t be at ease with your family, that’s a huge problem.”

“Not if I have you,” he said with a smile. “We can start our own family with our own traditions, like no secrets.”

This was puzzling, since Mike had never asked Riley to marry him. Was he just assuming that she would accept whenever he got around to proposing, or did he already think it was a done deal?

Love was so hard to puzzle out. Riley could remember being in seventh grade, playing the clarinet because that was the only instrument left unclaimed—that a girl could handle. She was wild about the oboe player. They went to the eighth grade dance together; then came high school, where she opted out of band and he went on to greater glory with the teen orchestra of the city. Did she feel that craziness about Mike? No. She felt comfortable. And happy knowing he was around for her. She remembered what Eden said about love and wondered if it would be the same for her. Just a deep satisfaction of being with someone who cared and for whom you cared.

And then there was her brother Frank and Lily Stanton, of all people. What was that about? Eden said they were crazy in love. But when Riley talked to Frank, he seemed measured. Of course, she had never been in the presence of the love birds. But Eden had, at least with Frank, and Eden said Frank was consumed.

Riley reflected on Frank’s early marriage to Marni and how wild that was and how quickly it ended. What sort of marriage goes the distance? Crazy passion, where one is on a waterfall of emotions? Or— What she had with

Mike. What Eden had with this Steve guy, although lately, when Eden talked about Steve, she had been gushing. So. Would Riley be gushing if she lived with Mike? Well, not in that awful duplex of his.

She still played on the opposing team in trivia. It would have been silly to go back and forth, depending on her rocky relationship. It gave them something to laugh about at the end of the evening. But there was still something in Mike that held back. She hoped it was only this family issue. So she asked, “What does your therapist say?”

“I shouldn’t have told you I had a therapist,” Mike said brusquely.

“Yeah. Because you’re a he-man. But can you ever be yourself if you’re not really yourself?”

“That makes a lot of sense.” He grimaced.

“You know what I mean. You shouldn’t have to hide who you are, who you’ve become after your mother’s bombshell. It’s not healthy. I think you should expose yourself. But not in a public park,” she joked.

Shaking his head, Mike said, “Maybe the drama would be too much for everyone to take.”

Riley gave that some thought over many weeks until she suggested that they invite Mary and her husband to dinner and talk it over with them. Mary was very simpatico in Riley’s estimation. And once Mary knew, everyone would know—one way or another. Mike said—maybe. Riley took that as a yes.

So Riley invited Mary and Thomas to dinner, whereupon Mary countered that Riley and Mike should come to her place on a weeknight because she wouldn’t have to get a babysitter and it wouldn’t interfere with the kids’ weekend activities, which were driving Mary mad with all the transportation needs.

Midweek Wednesday rolled around, and Mike picked Riley up for the twenty minute drive to Mary’s house in Upper St. Claire, which they purchased because of the schools. Kids first, in all things.

Mary confessed to buying a chicken from Costco and trying to fancy it up to look like she cooked it herself. But the potatoes and green beans were her own. “I love Costco’s chicken,” Riley assured her, “but I eat just so much and the rest goes into the freezer never to be seen again.”

The kids had been fed earlier and were sent off to do their homework, or whatever else they were up to on the iPhones. “I worry about Allie because I know she’s on the phone with her friends and it’s so dangerous. If I had the guts, I’d take the phone away from her. It’s a deadly weapon in the hands of young girls.” But she turned away from that subject to, “Now. You’re here to tell us something. You’re getting married.” She smiled beatifically while her husband chided her for her presumption.

Riley laughed. “Not that I know. But Mike has something to tell you.” “Maybe we should wait for—“ Mike was chickening out.

“Maybe we shouldn’t.” Riley countered.

“I was going to say, maybe we should wait for dessert.”

“Tiramisu from the Italian bakery,” Mary confessed. “Can you imagine how our grandmothers had to slave to make everything from scratch?” She studied her brother. “But you’re imagining something else. So, spill it, Mike,” Mary ordered, while Thomas leaned forward invitingly.

“Oh, god,” Mike moaned. “It’s so complicated.” He looked expectantly at Riley.

Sighing, Riley thought, men are so hopeless! But, honestly, if she waited for Mike to speak, they’d be there all night. So she took over and laid out what Mike had told her because someone had to do it.

When she finished, Mary exclaimed, “I knew it!”

“How could you know it?” Thomas asked. “And if you knew it, you never said anything to me about it.”

“But it fits so perfectly in the family dynamic. You were always different, Mike; and, when Faith and I were both pregnant and then nursing, we wondered how Ma did it with you and Sean. Now we know she didn’t. Wow, wait till the others hear!” She paused. “Unless—you don’t want us to say anything?”

“Actually, we told you because we knew you’d tell the others,” Riley said. “Okay, that’s an insult. I’m not even going to give you leftover chicken.”

Laughing, Riley said. “I could use some leftovers, and we just meant that we didn’t know, or Mike didn’t know, how to approach the whole gang of you, so we thought we’d start with someone we felt comfortable with; and maybe you can sort of spread the word. Because, as you can see from this evening, Mike can’t talk about it.”

“Except to you,” Thomas pointed out.

“Because this little history of his was interfering with our relationship.”

“As long as you don’t think I’m a blabbermouth,” Mary let her ruffled feathers settle.

“No, but you’re able to tell your sister who would tell her brother who would maybe—you know.”

“Like a game of telephone.”

“If you played a game of telephone, Mike would end up as the son of an ax murderer,” Thomas pointed out.

“I hope not,” Mike finally said. “My wish is that I can still be a part of the family after everyone knows. And maybe I won’t be.”

Mary addressed herself to Riley. “Men are so dumb.” Riley nodded knowingly. “How very very true.”

“Mike, we grew up together in the same chaotic household. Don’t think you’re ever going to escape from the Aherns. You are much loved and much valued. Get that through your very thick skull. I don’t know what Ma thought she was doing, keeping this from the rest of us, but she was so wrong. Sunday lunch, she’s going to hear from me.”

Thomas sighed. “Another set-to in the Ahern household. Delightful. Mike, you don’t know what you’ve been missing all these years.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to miss them anymore,” Mary assured everyone.

“May I suggest you do?” Thomas offered. “Talk about tiresome. Just bring a six pack and meet me on the porch.”

“Sounds good,” Mike replied with a smile. “And Riley can be in the kitchen, cleaning up with the women.”

“If Riley did kitchens,” Riley replied. “No, Mike, I think that’s a situation you’re going to have to handle by yourself. I have my own family traumas to deal with.” AKA, her mother, her sister, her brother. But let’s not go there—at least not tonight. One problem solved, many on the horizon.