BACK HOME, WE had a lovely dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and coleslaw, courtesy of a fast-food
franchise I usually don’t visit. It was actually at Seamus’s insistence; my grandfather said he had far too many
leftovers after a meeting of the clergy, and the food would go to waste if we didn’t finish it today.
After dinner and once the majority of the kids’ homework was completed, Mary Catherine and I lounged on the
couch. She snuggled up next to me and I draped my arm over her shoulders. I noticed she had a tendency now to
tuck her stomach toward me. I liked the feeling of having the baby so close.
My grandfather reclined in his favorite chair with a glass of pinot noir sloshing dangerously in his right hand. Given
Mary Catherine’s pregnancy, she’d been on a strict no-alcohol policy for months now. Which meant I was too. I
figured that the least I could do was support her, so the two of us drank club sodas with a splash of lemonade.
Refreshing, if slightly dull, though I tried my best to make them look like fancy cocktails by serving them in nice
glasses with slices of lemon.
The best part about this leisurely evening was watching all ten of the kids pitching in to decorate our Christmas tree.
The three oldest—Juliana, Brian, and Jane—acted more as supervisors, directing the placement of certain delicate
ornaments for the younger kids to hang on the tree, as I used to do for them too.
There was a certain symmetry to the whole process. Like how Brian gave each of the younger kids a little decorated
wooden train car and had them line the engine and all the cars up to look like a train going uphill. It was something
my late wife, Maeve, always did. Seeing the pattern brought
a tear to my eye, which I hid from everyone for no particular reason.
The kids were totally engaged in decorating the tree. My grandfather was equally absorbed in the process. Mary
Catherine used the quiet moment to say, “Juliana told me about the incident in Queens this morning. She said the
man was really upset.”
“He already made a complaint. I’m waiting for the shoe to drop later this week.”
“None of Rob’s roommates will get in trouble, will they?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Mary Catherine took a swig of her drink.
Seamus called from his comfortable perch, “You like that plain soda and lemonade?”
Mary Catherine raised her glass. “It’s lovely.”
My grandfather shook his head. “No Irish lass should admit to liking a drink so bland.”
Mary Catherine came right back at him. “The baby seems to like it.” She patted her belly and shot a little look at my
grandfather. He acc epted it graciously.
Juliana k ept checking her phone. When the phone call she was apparently expecting finally came in, she walked to
the kitchen to take it. I couldn’t hear her speaking, but she sounded pleased. A few minutes later Juliana wandered
back into the living room.
Mary Catherine asked, “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. One of Rob’s roommates, Katie, was able to get a visa that allows her to work. She’s got a job interview
coming up and was wondering if I could go with her.”
I said, “That’s great. But how did she get the visa? That usually takes months to get approved, and her immigration
case is still ongoing.”
“Katie has some family in the US who were able to pull strings. I’m not quite sure how they managed it, but she’s
really excited to start building back her life and ind ependence.”
Mary Catherine said, “How lucky for Katie! Do all of Rob’s Pakistani roommates use American names now?”
“No, Sabiha, Ayesha, and Fareeha all prefer their Urdu names, but Sylvia and Katie chose new names for
themselves.”
“I wish I could’ve picked my own name,” my wife mused.
“What’s wrong with Mary Catherine?”
“I’d change it to Trudy.”
My grandfather said, “What’s the story behind that? Were you close to someone named Trudy?”
Mary Catherine shook her head and said, “No, I just like the name.”
I had a feeling that my pregnant wife and I would be having many more conversations about names before our new
baby’s arrival.