by B Truly
34
In Limbo
My heart thuds against my ribcage. A moment later, another pink line appears.
This must be a mistake!
My breathing is erratic as I await the second test’s results. A few minutes pass, enough time to read it. I must zone out, because the second applicator is now in my palm. I don’t even recall picking it up. I drop the tube and it crashes against the tile floor. A knock at the door jolts me back to reality.
“Hey, what are you doing? You’ve been in there for a while,” Tanya asks, jingling the handle that I locked to the bathroom we share.
“Um, I’m not feeling well,” I mumble, which isn’t a lie.
“Well, I need to take a shower.”
The twins each have a bathroom attached to their bedrooms. “Use one of your stepbrother’s.”
She snorts. “Yuck. I’m not using one of their bathrooms. Hurry up.”
I ignore her. My mind spins in disarray. How can my horrible situation turn into more of a nightmare? I’m not a social butterfly but consider myself genuinely nice. What have I done to deserve this? In my own world of denial, I hadn’t even considered I’d get knocked up.
A sob escapes me—simultaneously, the bathroom door opens revealing a devious-eyed Tanya. She must’ve used a credit card or something to unlock it—sneaky heifer. One test is lying on the counter—the other is on the floor. Scrambling, I chuck the one on the counter into the trash can. But she’s already picked up the one that fell on the floor before I can reach it.
Her honey-brown irises dilate. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
“Give that back!”
Tanya raises the tube, and her eyes grow as big as saucers. Sucking in her breath, she exclaims, “You really are a slut!”
I attempt to yank the applicator, but she jerks it back. “Un, un. I’m keeping this.”
“Why did you barge in here?”
“Because I knew you were up to something. I can’t believe you were dumb enough not to use protection.”
It would be difficult to explain that Jackson said he would. Turns out, he lied.
“I can’t believe you let your new man go in bareback.” Tanya makes a tis-tis sound.
This witch has it all backward. “What are you talking about?”
“I overheard Justin talking to Jay about it. He was pouting about a guy you’re dating from Elsik.” Tanya shakes her head. “Really, Madison, you don’t have any common sense. I have a ton of condoms. All you had to do was ask for some.”
My chest heaves, wanting to slap her. Pointless to mention the truth, she won’t believe it is Jackson’s. Tanya’s so far up Jackson’s butt crack, he’ll be shitting her out for the rest of the year—she’s completely brainwashed. Instead, I beg, “Please, you can’t say anything.”
Her head falls back in hysterics. “Are you kidding me?”
Tears spring to the surface. “Just give me time to figure this out.”
“You’re gonna try to hide it. That won’t work for long.”
“This isn’t my fault.”
She laughs harder. “It takes two to tango. If you didn’t wanna get knocked up, then you shouldn’t have opened your legs.”
My hand twitches, mere seconds from hitting her. I’d thought I was giving myself to the man who has my heart. At the time, I’d stupidly believed he would use protection. Just another manipulation.
“Better to get everything out in the open. It’s going to rise up soon enough.” She points to my stomach. “Mama deserves to know.”
“You can’t tell her!”
Tanya lifts the applicator above her head. Five inches taller than me, I can’t reach it. Her eyes fill with gleam. “Mama’s about to get an earful.”
Never have I hated someone more in my life, and Tanya is my flesh and blood. Family can be more vicious than a viper, not hesitating to throw you to the wolves or stab you in the back.
* * *
A while later, Mama bursts into my bedroom, leaving my door wide open. Placing her hands on her hips, she spats, “How could you have been so irresponsible!”
Unable to meet her eyes, I reply, “I understand how this looks.”
She makes a garbled sound. “I expected better from you! I mean, how are you going to take care of a baby?”
I walk around her to close my door. With how loud she’s yelling, the entire house can probably hear. “Mama, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“There’s no need to be discreet now.”
“What are you referring to?”
“You won’t be able to hide your pregnancy soon. It’s silly to close your door.”
I don’t have a response to her snide comment, so I remain silent. I have no clue of what to say. I feel like a hollow log—empty inside.
“Tanya told me you’ve been messing around with a boy from another school.”
The lie I’d sprouted to Justin is coming up to bite me in the butt. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell the truth, but it has been almost four months since the incident. Mama is engaged to his father now. Will she even believe me, Tanya hadn’t? Admitting the truth may backfire. Taking the cowardly way out, I say, “He goes to Elsik.”
“Give me his number!”
“We broke up,” I blurt. “He got his number changed and I don’t know his new number.”
Mama rolls her eyes. “Typical teenage boy. These young men only want one thing. Once you give it up, they move on. You should’ve been smart enough to know that. I guess you’ve had to learn the hard way.”
I flinch at her calculating words.
“I need to figure out what we’re going to do about this situation.”
“What do you mean?”
Ignoring my question, she hammers on. “Lord only knows, you’re too irresponsible. We’re not through talking about this, Missy—far from done.” Mama stomps from my room, slamming the door.
35
Nightmare Never Ends
Justin stands by the kitchen bar so quietly—I don’t notice him at first. His arms are crossed, and his back is ramrod straight. Our eyes lock. The expression on his face is hard to describe. I dissect it to be melancholy, then it dawns on me.
He knows!
“You scared me, Justin.”
“Oh....” is his only response.
No longer hungry, I only grab a bottle of water. I need to get out of here, unable to face him. His handsome face bears the same features that continue to haunt me. What’s worse is the disappointment I see in his eyes. Justin isn’t going for my attempt to escape. He’s caught on to that tactic by now. Before I can burn off, he stops me dead in my tracks.
Justin’s eyebrow lifts. “You’re just going to leave and not say a word?”
What can I say? Telling the truth at this point seems a far stretch.
He shakes his head, exhaling loudly. “Is it true? I wanna hear it from you.”
Slowly, I turn on my heels, nowhere near bold enough to meet his eyes. I decide not to beat around the bush or play dumb. I respect him more than that. “Yes, it’s true.” His features scrunch up in pain, which forces me to tear my gaze away. “This doesn’t affect you. It’s on me.”
“Your wrong, Madison, it does. I still care.” Justin shifts his weight. “Is the father going to step up and handle his business?”
Little does he know, there is no boyfriend to help me out. My own mother acts like I am on my own. Unable to answer, I bore holes into the porcelain tile.
After moments of dead silence, Justin snorts, narrowing his eyes. “You know what, it’s really none of my business. Forget I asked.”
I glimpse at him then, his words cutting deep. It’s not what he said, it is the tone of voice he used. His anger is apparent. More than that, it sounds like he’s had it with my hard and cold attitude.
Shaking his head, he whispers, “Why did I have to fall for you.”
With that, he pivots, leaving the kitchen. I don’t think I will ever forget the expressio
n on his face.
Exhaustion encompasses me, resulting in my temples pounding. My mind is reeling from my conversation with Justin—it’s playing repeatedly in my head. Well, Justin did most of the talking. I basically stood there looking like a fool and I’ve never felt worse.
Mama doesn’t bother knocking later that night, she just barges into my bedroom, assailing me with bomb-rushing questions.
“Have you thought about what I said, young lady?”
“It’s all I can think about.” She has no clue what I’m going through. How can she? All she seems to care about is her new fiance.
She crosses her arms. “Tell me how you plan on taking care of it? Babies cost money. On top of that, you recently turned seventeen and you don’t even have a job.”
“I haven’t gotten that far…. Are you saying I’m on my own?”
Mama stares at me as if I’ve grown three horns. “I don’t have time to take care of a baby.”
“Can’t we figure something out?”
Her honey-brown irises dilate. “You actually plan on keeping this baby.” She shakes her head. “You’re so clueless.”
“I … what other options do I have?”
“Kids nowadays have their heads in the clouds. They always expect their parents to bail them out or pay to fix a problem.”
“I don’t think that way. I appreciate my parents taking care of me.”
“Well, there’s other options and keeping your baby isn’t one of them.”
Mama doesn’t leave any room for discussion. Two options come to mind, both starting with the letter A. My guess is that Charlotte’s for the quickest route. My emotions are in an uproar. I don’t want a baby this young. Not to mention the circumstances around how it came about, but half the baby is me—the other is still a part of Justin and his deceased mother. It just feels wrong to think about terminating my pregnancy. I’m not sure I can go through with that A word.
* * *
The following week, Mama relays she’s going to pick me up early from school the next day. This is the first time she’s spoken to me since last week. Mama won’t tell me any details about why she’s picking me up. Not knowing makes my stomach queasy.
On Friday afternoon, Mama checks me out from school, and she doesn’t say a word as she drives.
“Where are we going?” The silence is killing me.
“To a clinic that will evaluate your pregnancy.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll see what they say and go from there.”
There must be more to it. After how she’s acted, Mama isn’t suddenly okay with my situation.
Once we arrive at the facility, Mama signs me in. She fills out some paperwork, then returns it to the clerk. Our wait isn’t long before a nurse calls us back. Mama motions for me to go with the nurse. She remains in the lobby. I follow the nurse to an area where she assesses my weight and height. I haven’t gotten any taller. I’m five foot, three inches, the same height I’ve been since I was fourteen. I’ve lost three pounds since the last time I weighed myself. The nurse tells me my blood pressure and vitals are good. She draws my blood next, filling three clear tubes.
“Could the morning sickness I’ve been experiencing account for my weight loss?” I ask the nurse.
“Yes, dear. How bad is it?”
“It’s gotten better over the last week.”
She asks me a series of questions. “What medications do you take?”
“None.”
“What about vitamins?
“None, but I guess I should.”
“Do you consume alcohol? If so, when was the last time and how often do you drink it?”
This is starting to sound like an interrogation. “I don’t drink alcohol. I’ve only ever tasted wine on a holiday or two.”
“What about drugs?”
I feel my eyes expand. “Excuse me?”
“Do you take drugs of any sorts, marijuana, LSD, Ecstasy? It’s important to answer honestly. Any drugs that are in your system will show up in your blood work.”
Ecstasy is Jackson’s preferred drug—it turns him into a maniac. I sigh. “I’ve never done drugs of any kind.”
The nurse nods, typing notes into the small hand-held tablet she’s holding. “You can wait in the lobby until the tech calls you back.”
Mama is scrolling through her cell in the lobby. I sit beside her, hugging my arms around myself even though I’m not cold. “They say a tech will call me shortly.”
Mama types on her phone, not looking at me. “They need to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are. It’s part of the process.”
“Process for what?”
“For you to terminate the pregnancy.”
It feels like the wind is knocked out of me. “Don’t I get a say in the matter?”
She pierces me with a glare. “Not under my roof. I’m not stopping my life to help you raise a baby. That’s a full-time job.”
“I’m old enough to work.”
“You’ll still have to go to school full-time, and a part-time job won’t cover the costs. There is daycare and a million expenses you have no clue about.”
I may have no idea of what to expect, but I know it can be done. She did it, having Tanya at a young age. “There’s WIC and government programs that can help pay for daycare.”
Mama laughs. “None of which you will qualify for with my income. I make way too much, and when Regan and I get married, his income would have to be included.”
Mama is a walking contradiction. If she has money to spare, then why can’t she help me? I can bet money that Gigi helped her with Tanya before she married my dad. I want to ask but stop myself. If that were the case, she would have offered instead of complaining about how expensive babies are. If I attempt to contradict her, she’ll only get defensive. “What about putting the baby up for adoption?” I’m not certain I want to go that route, either. Could I have the baby and then give it away? It does seem like a better option than terminating.
“There are still costs involved just carrying the baby—doctor visits and when you deliver. Not to mention, if you needed a C-section. Do you have money to cover all those costs?”
“No, but the other route is killing a human being.”
“Madison, you’re being too technical,” she hisses. “The baby is still developing and can’t even survive in this world right now. You’re just seventeen. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor. This is not up for debate. You’ll thank me one day.”
She has it backward. I think I’ll hold a grudge against her. I haven’t even had a chance to fully process this. I only confirmed I was pregnant less than two weeks ago. Yes, I’m young and clueless. The situation behind how I got knocked up causes my head to spin. I still want a choice in the matter.
“Ugh, I need to get with this client,” Mama mumbles under her breath. “I have to go. I’ll come back to get you. Text me when you’re done. You’ll just have to wait for me in the lobby. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
Mama stands, placing her purse on her shoulder. She walks out of the clinic without giving me a backward glance. I don’t sit in my stupor for long—a young woman, who looks to be in her twenties, calls my name. She introduces herself, tells me to lie on my back, and to pull my pants down to my hips. She tucks a towel under the waistband once I do.
“This scan will determine how far along you are, so they know what they’re working with.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you’re more than three months, then the process to terminate will take longer.”
I flinch as the tech starts putting my info into the machine. She verifies my name and date of birth.
“You’re a Valentine’s Day baby.”
I nod. This must be the tech’s odd way of making small talk. This clinic isn’t a happy setting where people are going to plan gender reveal parties.
“Do you know the first day of your last period?”
“My cycles have always been i
rregular. But my last period was in the beginning of December, and I know the exact date it happened. I’ve only done it once ... December 26th,” I whisper.
Her eyebrow rises. “Only one time, huh?”
I don’t know what to make of her statement. The tech applies the gel on my stomach, which is surprisingly warm. I’ve heard rumors stating otherwise. My stomach, once as flat as a board, now has a small bump. The ultrasound screen is turned slightly—enough that I can see it. I feel my eyes widen—not expecting to see a full-size baby moving around on the screen.
“That’s him?” I can’t help asking. The tech begins taking pictures and measuring. The baby has arms, legs, and a face. I should be close to four months along. It’s still mind-blowing to see the baby, giving me conflicting emotions. It’s not the baby’s fault the father manipulated me.
After a while, the tech says, “It’s actually a she.”
“It’s a girl?”
She nods, then lets me hear the heartbeat, and reality hits me. I haven’t thought about aborting the baby until Mama found out and is forcing me. I don’t want to terminate my daughter. I can’t help but think that Justin’s blood is also running through her veins. There’s good in her. Tears fall down my cheeks as Mama’s words flood my mind.
“What’s wrong, honey? You don’t want to go through with this?”
“Not really. It’s complicated … my mom’s making me,” I admit.
Her lips form into a tight line. She continues the ultrasound for a while longer. The baby seems to move a lot. The tech confirms this by saying she’s a mover. I watch as the tech images different parts of her body. I can even make out the more skeletal profile. When she’s done, the tech wipes the gel off my tummy.
“You’re about four months along.” The tech glances around, even though no one is in the room with us. She leans closer to me. “When you’re pregnant, you are viewed as a legal adult. Meaning, your mom can’t force you to abort the baby if you don’t want to.”
