Page 40 of Only a Gemini Will Do

“Mommy!”I squealed, my eyes misting as I toddled over to her.

My mother stepped closer, wearing a soft pink blouse with her salt-and-pepper mini twists pulled back into a low ponytail. She set the tray to the side and outstretched her arms to me.

“Look at you. You’re glowing. I can’t believe my baby girl is having a baby girl.”

We embraced in a tight, tearful hug that saidI missed you more than anythingwithout saying anything at all. I buried my face in her shoulder, careful not to mess up my makeup.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Mommy. I know you’re scared to fly.”

She pulled back to look at me. “I still am, but there was no way I’d miss this. I’d hotwire a spaceship to get to the moon for you, Sawyer. I had your auntie drop me off at the station, and I took the train down here.”

“You took that long train ride for me? How was it?”

“Long, like you said, but scenic. All that matters is that my pies and I made it here safe and sound. Your sister is trying to convince me to fly back with her, but I’m not so sure.”

I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. “All that matters is that you’re here now.”

We hugged again, mother and daughter, reunited at last. And for a second, everything felt right with the world.

As more guests arrived, the clubhouse transformed into a loud, chaotic hub of activity. I wobbled over and sat in a green velvet, high-back chair with my round belly outlined perfectly underneath a long, pink, off-the-shoulder dress, my boho braids pulled into a high bun with a few ringlets framing my face, and pink, fluffy slippers on my feet that rested on a small ottoman.

Soleil was in full command of the shower like she was running her classroom—rocking an olive green jumpsuit, gold hoops, a bob wig with bangs, and a clipboard we both knew was just for show.

She turned the music down before clapping. “Alright, ladies, gather around. We’re about to play our first game.”

I smacked my lips. “I thought I saidnogames.”

“I believe your exact words were no wack shit. And lucky for you, wack shit isn’t in my vocabulary. Now, it’s time for theBaby Sitter Game!And yes, it’s as simple as it sounds for any slow pokes in the room,” she said, eyeing Neesh and Brit.

Lisa, my coworker with the caterer cousin hookup, stood to her feet. “How do we play?”

“I’m going to split you all up into three teams. Then, you’ll take turns racing back and forth to grab the pink balloons out of the baskets. Inside each balloon is a letter. You need to run back to your seat, sit on it, and pop it before the next person in line runs to get another. The team that is the first to spell b-a-b-y wins,” my sister explained.

Neesh immediately side-eyed Soleil. “What the hell kind of game is this? I thought we were gon’ be doing crossword puzzles and shit.”

“I’m running this shower, and I believe in chaos. So, you’re welcome,” Soleil replied with a grin.

“Y’all already know I’m the competitive one, so I’m down,” Brit added.

I giggled. “I think I’m going to enjoy watching this.”

Lisa nodded. “I’m down too.”

Meanwhile, my mom was having a time struggling to rehang a banner over the food table that read“Little Sprout,”but kept putting it up backward. Then came the time to eat and open gifts. Soleil insisted that I unwrap one of hers first—a onesie that said,“Take me to my Auntie, you Peasant.”The room erupted in laughter, including me. I hadn’t expected anything less from her. She’d even thrown in a chew toy for Butta that saidBig Brother. That almost made me cry.

The shower ended a couple of hours later with everyone full of banana pudding, mini sweet potato pies, and joy. I’d laughed so hard I’d forgotten how overwhelmed I was. I looked around—my big sister, my best friends, my mommy, and even my coworkers—and felt something I hadn’t felt in weeks: happiness—messy, noisy, genuine happiness.

Two and a half hours later, the shower concluded. The tables and chairs were stacked in the corner. The leftovers had been set aside for me to take home. The balloon arch had been popped, and all the gifts I received had been loaded into multiple vehicles, ready to drive over to my apartment.

I sat in the chair, rubbing my belly, trying not to fall asleep from the food coma. As if she could read my mind, Soleil walked over from the small kitchen, carrying two cups of lemonade, and handed me one.

“Still conscious?”

“Barely. I think my baby has a food baby.”

We sat quietly for a second. It was the kind of familiar silence between us that neither of us felt urged to fill.

I reached out for her hand. “Thank you for everything,” I said genuinely. “Even though you had to do all of this with me kicking and screaming, this was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”