“Miss Lydia! Miss Lydiaaaa!” Harriett called to me with a rather stunned tone in her voice. Anytime she called me ‘Miss’ in that heavy Scottish accent of hers, I knew I was in trouble. I had introduced Harriett to my friends whom had joined Harriett and myself in the task of cleaning out the closet that Roger and I used for all of our extra clothes. I knew it would be too much of an undertaking for just Harriett and I. So, Chrissie left Jimmy with her mother, Veronica left the boys with John’s mum and Mary made certain Freddie’s cats were fed before arriving at my home. I rolled my eyes at Mary. It was hard telling what I was in trouble for now. I left Mary to the box we were searching through and went into the room that Roger and I had turned into a closet. “Oh, Miss Lydia! I found the most vulgar trousers I’ve ever seen! I suggest you throw these terrible pants out immediately!” Harriett said as she was prepared to hyperventilate.

 “Harriett! I can’t throw those out! Roger is taking those trousers with him on the Japanese leg of the tour.” I said, taking them from her hands. She gasped.

“Miss Lydia! These are your husband’s trousers!? Mr. Taylor has worn these trousers!?” she asked, putting her hand on her heart.  I shook my head, smiling as I thought about the first time I saw them.

 “Yes! Oh, you should see him in these things. I mean, you practically have to rub him down in butter to get the leather to slide over his thighs…but once they are zipped? Well, the devil himself would blush, yeah?” I said admiring his tiger print trousers.

 “So…you’re going to…allow your husband…to…to wear these….these sinful trousers in….public?!” she asked, still rather mortified.

 “Yes.” I shook my head and smiled. “See! See, look at this? Look at this picture here.” I said, pulling a magazine out of a drawer and showing Harriet. She gasped again.

 “Mr. Taylor’s not wearin’ a proper shirt!” she mumbled into her hand. I looked down at the picture and then back to Harriett.

 “He’s not wearin’ any shirt.” I stated the obvious to her. Harriett closed her eyes and crossed herself.

 “Pray with me miss Lydia. Let’s say a…” I stopped Harriett and threw the magazine back into the draw of the chest that also sat in this room.

 “No! No, Harriett! We are not praying on account of Roger’s pants!” I said folding them up and leaving them on the chest for when he came home in a few days.

 “Alright, alright. But tell me this, what are you intentions with all of this beautiful furniture for the baby’s room? You have so many wonderful things!” Harriett said smiling. It was at this time that Mary had joined us, having missed the trouser incident. I shrugged.

 “I don’t know. A lot of it needs to be put together and I haven’t organized any of it. I don’t know where the baby’s room is going to be.” I said, looking at all the stuff Roger and I had received at Christmas for the baby. The other pile beginning to develop in the room were the things that had begun to come out of the closet. Chrissie had taken a box outside to the trash and Veronica, now nearly two months pregnant, was headed upstairs.

 “I have an idea! Why not make this the baby’s room?” Harriett asked.

 “Oh, yeah! It’s just off the master bedroom.” Mary nodded her head.

 “You could knock this wall out and…” I cut Harriett off.

 “Knock…knock a…a wall out!? You want to knock a wall…out of my home!? NO! Are you bloody mad!? Roger loves this house! We can’t go…knocking walls out of it!” I said a bit too passionately. I felt suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of it.

 “Well, it’s okay, dear. We’ll figure something out. Now, back to these clothes! This pile, is a pile to be thrown out, yes?” Harriett said, pointing to the pile in the floor. I eyed the clothes that Harriett had begun to clutter in the middle of my floor. I felt suddenly sick at what I saw.

 “No…no, no, no, no! Hang them all back! Don’t allow them to get all wrinkled.” I said, bending down into the floor. Harriett had haphazardly thrown the dress that I wore to Veronica’s wedding, Roger’s black satin butterfly pants, his sheer, black sequin shirt that he wore at the Rainbow, my white gown that I wore in Los Angeles and Roger’s well-worn denim jacket into the pile. “Put all these back.” I repeated as I scooped everything up from the floor into a pile in my arms.  “Now, I’m just going to take these things and put them away where they belong.” I mumbled into the pile.

 “Miss Lydia! You can’t carry things!” Harriett scolded me, taking items from my hands.

 “Lydia, you can’t keep all these things.” Chrissie said, tossing my “wedding” dress…well, as close to a wedding dress that I ever wore…out of the closet and into my arms.

 “She’s right. This closet is packed and I can’t believe you’ve been keeping that awful t-shirt. Don’t worry…I threw it out for you.” Harriett said.

 “What awful t-shirt?” I asked, readjusting my arms around the pile in my arms.

 “That faded black one. The one with the white writing that’s peeled off  in places and the bleach stain at the hem. It has a hole in the shoulder?” Harriett said. That’s it…I was about to go into cardiac arrest.

 “Oh god…” I heard Mary mutter under her breath.

 “You…you threw it…OUT!? YOU THREW IT OUT!? NOOOO! NO! GO GET IT! NO! GO DIG IT OUT NOW!” I screamed at Chrissie who was closest to me. “ I WILL NOT LET YOU DO THIS! YOU CAN’T FUCKING JUST….THROW MY ENTIRE LIFE AWAY BECAUSE OF SOME BABY! NOW CHRISSIE! GO GET IT! AND DON’T YOU EVER TOUCH MY WEDDING DRESS AGAIN!” I practically screamed at her.

 “Now, now…calm down, sweetie. It’s just a shirt. It doesn’t mean anything. Lydia, it’s time to make room for in your life for your child.” Harriett said kindly as I started pulling everything in the closet off the hangers and into my arms. “Sweetheart, you can’t handle those things!” she begged of me.  I was trying to fight back my tears.

 “SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!” I had started to cry, I couldn’t fight it. “That fucking shirt means everything. If it weren’t for that shirt…I wouldn’t even be here right now! I’ll do this myself! Stop! Just stop!” I sniffed and stormed off with an enormous amount of clothes in my arms. It made Harriett upset because I wasn’t supposed to lift, but Mary stopped her from coming after me since I had already verbally assaulted Chrissie and made her go retrieve the faded t-shirt that Roger had put on me in 1971. It was like throwing away my heart. Mary looked at Veronica as I balanced the now enormous pile in my arms.

 “Should…should I go help her?” Veronica asked of Mary, who shook her head.

 “Chrissie put her wedding dress in that pile of clothes like it was an old washrag.” Mary said, looking at the floor all the while rubbing on Harriett’s shoulders.

 “Well, you know how it is, right? You had to make room for your children, yes?” Harriett asked of Mary with bright eyes and still wanting to rush to my aide. Mary looked at her and shook her head.

 “I don’t have children…I miscarried in 1976.” She said. Harriett felt horrible.

 “Oh dear child, I’m so truly sorry.” She said, reaching for Mary’s cheek.

 “Don’t be sorry for me. Lydia is devastated over this and you better be glad Roger isn’t here to see it. Most of these items are so much more than clothes. Underneath them, there is an endless story.” Mary released her shoulders.

 “Come with me. I need to show you something and you’ll better understand.” Veronica said, taking Harriett by the hand and motioning to Mary to come along.

 “I’ll show ‘em…I mumbled as I had awkwardly made my way all the way outside and to the barn where the cars were lined up. “…I’ll show Harriett and…Chrissie! Think they can…throw away my entire life! Fuck them!” I mumbled and teetered as I reached for the back door handle of the Bentley. I swear to god, if I was still able to smoke I would have one right now! I hurled everything in one motion into the backseat, tears streaming down my face as I looked at my life that laid there in a pile. I was so angry and so hurt. I stood there for a moment and peered at everything with which I had filled the backseat. I hadn’t meant to yell at Chrissie the way I did. And Harriett didn’t mean to do what she had done but….my thoughts were completely interrupted. I gasped and looked down to my abdomen.

 “Oh sweet Mary of Scots! No!” Harriett said as Veronica took her on a guided tour of an old photo album. Mary laughed.

 “Yes! Yes, that’s Roger I swear.” Harriett looked to Mary completely horrified.

 “Look at all this hair! Are….are you quite sure this isn’t a teenage girl?” Harriett asked as Veronica flipped the page. Harriett gasped. “Oh my…no…not a teenage girl but…I really wish Mr. Taylor would wear a proper button down shirt. It’s as if he’s…well it’s…” she lowered her voice. “I think all this bare-chested freedom might lead one to impurity.” Veronica couldn’t help but laugh at Harriett.

 “Look, you’re a very, very nice lady and you mean well and you have looked out for my friend in a way that Roger would be grateful for. I…like you….am a practicing Catholic. But, Harriett…impurity was the theme of 1974. Roger and my husband spent a good part of the year shirtless.” Veronica said.

 “All those clothes you saw, they tell their story. You look at these pictures and those clothes appear in all of them.” Mary said. Harriett covered her mouth and closed one eye.

 “Oh dear…I…I thought the trousers with the butterflies on them were Lydia’s!” Harriett moved her hand to her heart. She shook her head. “There’s more sin in this house than I originally thought. Oh! Look at all those necklaces! This is just…I’m going to have to have a talk with Mr. Taylor when he returns.” Harriett was in a state of shock. “Aww, look at her. She’s just beautiful here...but so very thin.” Harriett said dreamily.

 “That was taken at my wedding and that was a dress you wanted to get rid of.” Veronica explained.  “Please remember, you can…you can always tell what’s going on in Lydia’s life by how much she weighs…that’s all I’ll say.” Veronica added, turning the page.

 I stood there in the barn, my mouth hanging open as my hand trembled on my abdomen. My cheeks were still wet with my tears.

 “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. She didn’t mean it and I didn’t mean to…” I interrupted Chrissie.

 “The baby kicked! The…the baby…I felt it! I can feel it now! The baby’s moving! Chrissie the baby kicked!” I smiled at her, hoping she would forgive my screaming at her. She gasped and hurried toward me, Roger’s faded black t-shirt in tote. “Come here! Come feel!” I said, reaching for her hands as she put my recovered t-shirt over my shoulder. Chrissie put her hands on my stomach.

 “Oooooooh! Lydia!  I can feel the baby kicking! Ooooooh!” Chrissie seemed to have entirely forgotten that I had lost my cool with her earlier. She knelt down and let her hands rub over me. “Hello little one! Can you hear your auntie? I can’t wait to meet you!” Chrissie gushed at me.

 “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just…”

 “I know. You don’t have to explain anything at all.” Chrissie stood up and put her arms around me. “Roger’s gonna’ be home in five days and in that time it’s you and him that will put your nursery together, not Harriett, not me…no one else.” Chrissie assured me. This was an unbelievable moment.  I was not yet twenty-four weeks pregnant and my baby had just moved. Things were starting to get scary because by the time Roger got home, I would be twenty-four weeks. March would mark my sixth month of pregnancy and it would be over half over. Harriett was right about something; we would really need to think about a nursery.