by Joanna Bell
That's how it went for the rest of the call. Me trying to help, offering assistance in any way I could think of, and Blaze politely telling me why it wouldn't work. That night, when I went to bed, I was angry. Not so much at her as at myself. I knew, during those few blissful days in Dublin, that I should have been keeping a closer eye on my own emotions, not letting them get out of hand. I knew it and I still let it happen. Because it felt so goddamned good. It felt so right, that imagined future with Blaze.
You're 28 years old, I mumbled to myself before rolling over and closing my eyes. Grow the fuck up.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Blaze
I pulled into my parents' driveway with a pit of dread in my stomach, and then forced a smile onto my face as my mom stepped out of the front door and gave me a stiff wave. When I got to her, she looked down at my belly and shook her head sadly.
"Well, at least you're not showing yet."
"Yeah, I guess not." I replied. "Although I read most women show later during their first preg –"
My mom sniffled loudly and I looked up to see tears streaming down her face. "Oh Blaze," she sighed, pulling me into a hug I didn't really want. "What have you done? What have you gone and done?"
"What people have been doing since people existed," I answered matter-of-factly as the familiar smell of my mother's perfume hit my nose and made my stomach turn. Everything made my stomach turn in those days.
She didn't respond to that comment, she just sniffled again and daintily wiped tears away from her eyes as I wondered if coming to my parents' house on a day when I already felt short-tempered had been such a good idea.
My dad met us inside, and he had the same look of deep disappointment on his face as my mother did. My mom, unable to overcome her instincts, told me to sit down at the kitchen table and let her make me a sandwich and I did just that.
"So," my father started, sitting down across from me. "We know why you're here, but we're not sure what you want to talk about, specifically."
I sat up a little straighter, also unable to overcome my own instincts, but I couldn't quite meet his eye. "Well, I obviously want to talk about this – this situation. That I'm pregnant."
"We know you're pregnant, Blaze –"
"I know you know!" I snapped, before pressing my lips together, sighing, and repeating myself in a calmer tone. "OK, I'm sorry. I know you know what's going on, I just wanted to – I don't know, I wanted to talk to you guys about it, face to face. I mean, I obviously know you're not happy, but –"
"What were you thinking, Blaze?!" My mother asked as she spread mustard on a baguette. "I just don't understand how something like this can happen! You had your first sex education class when you were a child, for God's sake – how can this –"
"It has happened, Jill," my dad cut in, before she could truly go off on one of her rants. "That's what matters now. What matters is what Blaze is going to do about it."
My mother, who can be very difficult to talk down once she's gotten herself into a specific headspace, continued on in that shrill tone she gets when she's very stressed out. "Well we know what should be done about it. We know that. She knows it too, don't you Blaze? You can't have a child, not now. It's an impossibility. You're too young. And who is this man? A cowboy? A cowboy, Blaze? Good Lord, what were you thinking?! What were you –"
"Jill!" My father shouted, cutting her off again.
My mom threw the kitchen towel down on the countertop with a flourish and then slammed the sandwich down in front of me so hard the plate clattered against the table. "Fine. Fine. I'll just say nothing about the worst thing that's ever happened to this family!"
I couldn't help rolling my eyes. "Don't you think that's a little dramatic, mom?"
"NO! No I don't think it's dramatic at all! You have no idea –"
"Your mother is obviously extremely upset," my dad said, turning to me. "And as upset as she is, she's not wrong, Blaze. You are not in any position to have a baby. You have a huge mortgage on the condo, you're only just getting started – and already doing so well – in your career, and you're not married. We're not even sure how well you know this man, this – Jake? From Montana?"
"Jack," I replied flatly. "And I know him quite well."
"Quite well? Well enough to commit to living with him for the rest of your life?"
I knew I was just going to have to sit through whatever my parents wanted to say. My head was already buzzing with an approaching headache, one I knew I couldn't take anything stronger than a Tylenol for, but I just had to get through it. I just had to listen. I had to let them say the things they needed to say. I also knew the answer they wanted to the question my dad had just asked me. Did I know Jack well enough to spend the rest of my life with him? They thought the answer was no. I knew the answer I was supposed to give was no, just as I knew even my friends – including Jess – would probably say it was no. But my heart rebelled under all of those sensible assumptions. It fought back, insistent and unafraid. Yes, it said. Yes, I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Yes, yes, yes.
Of course I didn't say any of it out loud – I couldn't even fully admit it to myself, so there was no way I could sell my parents on it.
"I – I don't know," I replied. "I don't think the answer is necessarily 'no,' though."
"At least he has some money now." My mom said – I had told them about the Irish bank account. "Don't give me that look, Blaze, like you're a modern woman who doesn't need a man's money. Maybe you don't now, but if you have that baby you certainly will. Babies are expensive. You have no idea."
"I know," I said, thinking that I had about four more hours of my parents stating ominous factoids about how babies ruin your life and me meekly whispering 'I know' at the end of each one.
"We can help you with this," my dad said, reaching across the table and taking my hand. "I play golf with Dr. Anstruther, he's the best women's doctor on the east coast. You don't need to pay for it yourself, you don't need to go through it alone. I can see how upset you are, honey, and I hate it. I hate this whole situation. Please let us help you, Blaze."
'Women's doctor' – that was a interesting term from my father, who was generally a direct man. I didn't comment on it, though. Instead I looked down at the polished surface of the table, suddenly remembering the time that I had carved my own initials into it when I was seven, just like Jack and his sister had done. Unlike Jack and his sister, though, I hadn't been smart enough to carve the initials in a place where no one could see them. Then I looked up, shaking my head clear of the odd, sudden memory, and looked my dad – and then my mom – in the eye.
"I'm not having an abortion."
"But –" my mom started.
I held up my hand. "No. That isn't something we can discuss – well, we can discuss it if you like, but that decision has already been made. I'm having this baby."
It was my father's turn to throw his hands into the air. He loses it a lot less easily than my mother does, but when he does lose it he really loses it. "GODDAMNIT BLAZE!" He shouted, standing up and slamming one closed fist down on the kitchen counter. "You don't know what you're doing! You don't have even a single clue what you're doing, what this is going to mean for your life! This is not – Blaze Wilson, this is NOT how we saw your life going. This is not why we paid for two degrees. For what? If you have this baby – what are they for? Nothing!"
"They have maternity leave at work," I said quietly, flinching away from my dad's fury but unwilling to keep quiet. "Sixteen weeks. And I'll still get paid. Daycare is also a thing that exists –"
"Don't get smart with me young lady!"
When my parents are angry, I will never not be 10 years old. I suspect they'll be 'young-lady'-ing me when I'm 45.
"OK, I'm sorry. It's difficult with you yelling at me. But you're acting like I'm going to be homeless or something, like I'm going to lose my job and move into a slum. Women with careers have babies, it happens. I know it'll be harder with a child, but �
�� damn, I don't even know if I'll even be in D.C.!"
I probably shouldn't have said that. Watching two pairs of eyes widen as my words sunk in just underlined that fact.
"What?!" My dad spluttered. "What? Oh – oh no, Blaze. No. You can't do that. That would just be, I'm sorry to be blunt but that would monumentally stupid."
"Where did we go wrong?" My mother asked suddenly, her voice still fraught with tears. "I know no parents are perfect and Lord knows we weren't, but you turned out well, Blaze. You're smart, you're hard-working and I've never, never known you to be overly concerned about what men think of you. Where is this coming from now, at 26? Why are you even considering doing something like that – becoming dependent on a man you barely know!"
"Because I'm fucking pregnant!" I shouted, leaping to my feet. "Listen! I'm sorry about cursing but I know you guys are unhappy, OK? You think I can't tell? You think being told I'm 'monumentally stupid' is subtle?!"
"I didn't call you stupid, Blaze. I called the decision –"
"Oh just stop it!" I yelled. "I came here to see if we could talk about this like adults, but it doesn't look like we can, does it? Mom just said it – I'm 26. Not 16. I'm not a child anymore, and this decision, as much as you want it to be, isn't yours to make. It just isn't. You have to deal with that. And if you can't, if me staying here is just going to get me screamed at and called stupid, then I'm just going to leave!"
I've always been close to both my parents – probably due to being an only child – but my dad was always the softer parent. Always the one to give in to my whining about wanting an ice-cream or a new toy before my mom. So when he looked me in the eye after a few moments of tense, ugly silence and told me straight to my face that I should leave, it was like the ground under my feet shook. And there was no stopping the tidal wave of emotion that seized me, the tears that sprang so suddenly and so fully into being that I couldn't see a damn thing as I stumbled across the kitchen on my way back out to my car.
"Blaze!" My mother called after me. "Blaze!"
But my dad must have stopped her from coming after me because they didn't follow me out, after I slammed the front door and only barely managed to get the car door closed behind me before I collapsed into loud, heaving sobs. Of all the people in the world to be rejected by, of all the human beings walking the face of the earth, there is not one who could look at me with the coldness I saw in his eyes and hurt me as much as it hurt when that person was my own father.
I pulled over about a mile away from their house and cried so hard my nose started to bleed. Part of me wanted to call Jack but another part, even then, was protecting my parents. I didn't want him to hate them. So I called Jess, and when she picked up, all I could do was make little strangled noises because I was too upset to speak.
"Blaze? Is something wrong? Are you OK? Oh my God, where are –"
"I'm OK," I squeaked, an obvious lie. "Jess, I –" I gulped and continued in a whisper, because anything louder than that and I wouldn't be able to get the words out. "Can I come over please? Now?"
"Yes, of course. I'm at the store but I'll come home right now. Do you – Blaze, where are you?"
"I'm pulled over on the highway. I just saw my parents and –" I couldn't finish.
"Oh sweetie. Oh Blaze. OK. You come over right now – are you OK to drive? Do you need me to come pick you up?"
"I'm OK," I said, even though truthfully I wasn't – not even close.
"I'll make us hot chocolates, OK? And see you soon?"
"Yes."
I hung up and leaned forward, resting my forehead on the steering wheel and properly bawling my eyes out at Jess's kindness. What would I do without her? And there, in the background, the other question – what would I do without my parents, if they couldn't live with my decision? And if they couldn't, was my decision as final as I'd assumed it was?
Jess opened the door, took one look at me, and pulled me into her arms, stroking my hair as I cried and guiding me inside. "Come on, Blaze. Let's get some hot chocolate into your belly, girl."
It took me a long time to calm down. Jess didn't push me, either – she knew I wasn't the type to get that upset over nothing much, so she just sat with me, rubbing my back every now and again and sipping hot chocolate.
"Do you even have an opinion on any of this?" I asked, after briefly outlining the scene that had just gone down at my parents' house. "Even when we've talked about it before you don't really seem to have a strong belief one way or the other. About what I should do, I mean."
Jess pulled her sleeve down over her hand and wiped a tear off my cheek. "Yeah, Blaze, that's on purpose."
"What do you mean?" I sniffled.
"I mean I don't have an opinion because it's not my opinion to have. I can give you advice on whether or not trying to take up parachute-less skydiving is a bad idea, because that's obvious. I can give you advice on whether eating six servings of fruit and vegetables a day is a good idea, because that's also obvious. But a baby, Blaze? How can anyone give you advice on that? Some people do seem to feel that having kids ruined their lives. Others think their kids are the best thing that ever happened to them. And not all of the people in that latter group had their babies at 32, in a stable married relationship with a house in the 'burbs, you know?"
I nodded, both grateful that my best friend had the emotional intelligence to recognize that it wasn't her decision to make and frustrated because I really did want her opinion. "And all of this stuff my parents were saying about 'you don't know how it's going to be!' And 'oh, it's going to be so terrible, you have no idea!' I mean, nobody knows, right? Nobody knows what it's like to have a baby until they have a baby!"
"Exactly. Your parents love you, Blaze. But you're their only child, and they are very invested in a certain idea of who you are and how your life is supposed to go. This is a major deviation from that path, from a girl who hasn't really deviated before. They're freaking out, and that sucks, but it's still not up to them. It's up to you."
"I know it is," I said, sighing heavily and taking another sip of hot chocolate. "And that's so scary."
"Is it?"
I looked up, surprised to be asked that question. "What? Of course it's scary, Jess! Wouldn't you be scared?"
"Yeah, I would be. But – Blaze, you're parents are right about one thing – you aren't the 'oops' type, you know? Hell, I start worrying about you if you're more than five minutes late. You always had your homework done on time, you never let yourself get too drunk. I'm just surprised that you're surprised, you know? I'm surprised you had unprotected sex with someone you didn't want to have a baby with."
Our eyes met as Jess spoke, and I knew I was being asked a question, even if it didn't sound like it. "Yeah," I replied, thinking. "Yeah."
"I mean, this is the first time, right? The first time you ever slipped? I remember you insisting that Matt use condoms every time even though you were on the pill. I guess what I'm curious about is –"
"I know what you're curious about," I said, not wanting Jess to have to drag it out of me. "You want to know whether or not it was even an accident, right?"
She nodded her head yes.
"Well, here's the thing. I could say we got caught up in the moment, we didn't think about it, it all happened so fast – I could say all of those things and don't get me wrong, they would be true. But I don't think it was an accident, Jess – not really. I like him. I – I love him. I can't even talk about him without getting embarrassed about how dumb I sound."
"You don't sound dumb, Blaze. You just sound like someone in love. We all sound like that when we love someone."
"Do we?"
"Yeah. It's actually kind of funny seeing you like this, with stars in your eyes. I've never seen you this way before. And all I'm saying is that the person whose opinion matters here is yours. It's not mine, and it's not your parents'. All of this drama and screaming and yelling and angst and part of me is just like what the hell? A woman is pregnant with the baby of the
man she loves. Is there anything less shocking than that?"
"I want to move to Montana," I blurted out suddenly, because some part of my brain knew that if I thought about it I'd never say it. Jess smiled knowingly.
"Do you? I mean, I kinda got that idea but I didn't know if I was imagining it or not. You're so repressed sometimes, Blaze."
"I am not repressed!" I responded, even as I was laughing because I knew damn well it was true and so did Jess. "OK, maybe a little."
"Just a little," my best friend giggled. "And if you move to Montana you have to invite me out there all the time. And you have to find me a handsome cowboy, too."
"Damn," I said, as the gravity of what we were discussing sank in. "Damn, Jess. Am I moving to Montana to have a baby with Jack? Am I leaving my career?"
"I don't know," she replied, looking straight at me. "Are you?"
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jack
Blaze called me one afternoon when I was out in the foothills making sure the herd's water supplies weren't frozen over. I didn't have gloves on, so my hands were slow and clumsy with the cold, and I dropped the phone before I could take the call. It would be a better idea to call her once I got back to the house, anyway.
So that's what I did, about an hour later as I stood in my gutted kitchen, stirring beans over a rusty old camp stove I'd found in one of the storage buildings.
"Jack?"
My blood ran cold as soon as I heard her voice – she was upset. "What is it?" I demanded. "Blaze, is something wrong? What –"
"I'm fine," she answered hurriedly. "I mean, I'm physically fine, if you're worried about that. Are you busy? What are you doing?"
I chuckled. "I'm never too busy to talk to you. And I'm making dinner on a camp stove."
"A camp stove? Why?"
"Because I took the old range to the dump yesterday and the new appliances can't be installed until the other work in the kitchen is done. It's boring. How about you? What are you doing?"
