Jaki Jean on Failing to be the Cool Aunt

Felicia Marie's hand 1983, on a Mother's Day bag I made for Jean.

Years ago, when my brother John was still alive & his eldest child Felicia Marie was in middle school, he brought her over, along with his son Johnny Alexander (who I called Clyde because his parents could not agree whether to call him John or Alex & Clyde suited him at the time) during one of his custodial weekends.

John took the kids in to see their Grandma Jean, who was not yet bed-bound, but was taking a rest.  Then John asked me to join them.

He looked at Felicia & said in an angry voice:  Show that note from the school to your Aunt Jaki.  Maybe she can deal with you.

Felicia, her head hanging low, her hair covering her beautiful face, handed me a piece of paper.

A suspension notice.  From the principal of her school.  For three days.  For fighting.

I went into shock mode.  Nothing about the principal’s note resembled the Felicia Marie I knew.  There had to be a story, an explanation.

So asked her Who were you fighting with & why?

I was fighting with another girl about a boy.  She murmured from behind her hair.

I did not breathe, I did not take a moment to think.  While I don’t remember the word by word of my rant & horror & disbelief, it went something like this:

Are you fucking kidding me?  You got into a fight over a phallus bearer?  You jeopardized your permanent record, which will follow you to high school, your relationships with your teachers – over a phallus bearer?  At your age, a phallus bearer is a boy, not a man.  We do not fight over men, much less boys.  If you have to fight, that boy, that man, was never yours.  I cannot believe this – what did your mother say?’  What were you thinking?  Violence, suspension, over a boy? 

My ranting & raving was going nowhere.  Everyone else in the room stood silent, waiting for me to continue, & I was going to continue until I noticed that my niece was giggling.

Infuriated, I screamed,

Do you think this is funny, young lady?  You think this is funny?  You are going to stay with me this entire weekend & we are going to talk & before I get through with you, you will realize none of this is funny.

My niece finally look up from behind her hair, her beautiful eyes sparkling with laughter & said,

April Fool’s.

I could have strangled her lovely neck.  Instead we all fell over ourselves with laughter.

This past Monday morning, Felicia Marie, home from the USS New York for the holidays, arrived with flowers & chocolates for Jean.  She also arrived with an entourage:  her brother Clyde, her step-brother Colin, her mother Sheila, her cousin Caylee & a young man named Matt.

I know about Matt from Felicia’s Facebook pages.  He, too, is a sailor & I have seen him tagged in photos for a year now.  A very short while ago, Felicia updated her status to “In a relationship with Mat Adams.” 

Of course, I was not anticipating meeting Mat or Matt or however one spells this young man’s name while in my red silk Victoria’s Secret night shirt with a missing button.  I was literally getting ready to step into the shower in preparation of an early lunch date with three girlfriends. 

I am thankful that I did not meet Mat or Matt through a shower curtain.  The downstairs bathroom has no door – we removed it & widened the doorway to accommodate Jean’s wheelchair.

Standing around in a Victoria’s Secret nightshirt with three young men, only one of which is intimately related to me, is not Jaki Jean’s idea of an ideal situation. 

As the clock ticked, I grew more awkward, more nervous, not my charming, scintillating self.

So much so that my nephew asked his maternal grandmother Virginia:

What happened to my Aunt Jaki?

Nothing, Virginia replied.

Something happened, he insisted.  Her body is here but her mind is somewhere else.

Indeed.  I did not know how to move the entourage from Jean’s room so that I could take my shower & make it to La Madeleine on Westheimer by 11:45.

Then Virginia touched my arm & asked me if I had taken my meds, all my meds.  I assured her that I had, that I knew I was babbling – too much caffeine.  Virginia, her hand still on my arm said Felicia had something to tell me.

Felicia moved toward Mat / Matt & I thought Oh, God, she is going to tell me that they are getting married.

Instead, something unexpected came out:

I am going to have a baby.

For a moment time stopped & I did not breathe.  This was not April Fools Day.  It wasn’t what I expected.  It never occurred to me. 

I suppose that in my mind, she would get out of the Navy, finish her education, maybe move in with a significant other, have a career, eventually get married & have children.  I suppose I thought she might break the family pattern & get married first, then move in, then have children.

I have no idea of everything I said.  I know I spoke slowly.  I know I tried to breathe. No rants, no raves.  Standing there in my red Victoria’s Secret nightshirt in front of a young man I had never met, I murmured something like well, it is a good thing that you have excellent health coverage.

Of one thing I am sure – at that moment, my reaction was not what Felicia expected.  I was not Felicia’s liberal, free spirited, crazy aunt. 

Instead, I bumbled my way through some of the very same questions her mother asked.  How does this work in the Navy?  She is reassigned to the base for her pregnancy.  Is there day care on base?  Of course there is.

I mumbled something about babies arriving in all kinds of circumstances.  All the while thinking they are too young, they need to finish college, they have only been a couple a short time, they are just babies themselves.

I did mention that as a woman who had two babies out of wedlock & never bothered (or particularly desired) to marry either game donor, I had no right to an opinion on how this baby was being brought to the rest of us. 

Of course, I did not remind them that I had my first son at 29, & my youngest at 36.

Or that I had lived a wonderful, adventure filled life by the time I decided I wanted to become someone’s mother.  I had been in love in Paris.  I had witnessed a first snow fall in Connecticut.  I had visited major museums in England, France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Austria, Denmark, the Netherlands, Norway, New York.  I had experienced sunsets & sunrises in the mountains of West Texas & the fleeting color in the desert after rain. 

By the time I was a mother, I had been married & divorced, in & out of love & lust several times.  I had learned when to stand independently, when to accept help & support.

But that was me.  And this is about a young woman I love.  This is about Felicia Marie.

Felicia has traveled the world with the Navy.  She has stood proud with her shipmates of the USS New York at the dedication of the memorial at Ground Zero.  She has learned to be a team player while still standing strong against those good old boys resistant to women in the military.  She has experienced & values the love of family & extended family.

She is fierce, a true woman warrior.  Beautiful and kind.

Felicia knew she would have love & support from her family & extended family when she chose to have this baby.  Just as it never occurred to me that this would be the trajectory of her life, it never occurred to her that her crazy aunt would not embrace her in shared joy.

So I failed at being the liberal, open-minded, free spirited aunt.  It is not my first failure as a woman.  I have failed at being the good & obedient daughter, I have failed at being the best sister alive, the best friend alive; I failed in the roles of girl friend, wife, mistress, lover, friend with benefits.  I have failed more that once at motherhood.

Each of these failures gnaw at me – I won’t pretend that they don’t.  But recently, my friend Raquel Caylor, during a discussion about God & faith & behavior, said:

God does not expect us to be perfect.  God knows we aren’t perfect.  God expects us to strive to be the very best loving people we can be.

I am no longer that fearless, liberal, open-minded young woman who believed she could conquer all obstacles.  Oh, I am still fearless & liberal & open-minded.

But I am fifty-nine, with a lifetime of experience & several decades to examine & assess my decisions.  I was, I continue to be, the author of the trajectory of my life.  And I try to remember to strive to be the very best & most loving person I can be.

My brother John’s daughter Felicia has historically been the author of the trajectory of her life – from the color of her hair to her choice of friends to ink on her skin to choosing to join the Navy.  And now she has chosen to have a baby.

A baby who is welcomed by her / his parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles & aunts & cousins & one crazy, liberal great-aunt.

For this event, for this beloved young woman & her baby, I will learn to knit.  

My brother John would expect nothing less.