He looked me up and down, as if counting my limbs. "That's what she said about you."
Things weren't going to get better from here. "I'm pregnant," I said. "And she says she won't take the baby."
Dad's knees literally buckled. He dropped into the chair across from me.
"Sorry," I said. "I guess I should have told you to sit first." At least he wasn't driving.
Dad gave me an exhausted look. "Back up. You're pregnant?"
I buried my face in my arms. "Yeah."
Dad sounded like he wanted to kill someone. "Who's the father? Rodney?"
My stomach dropped. How could he need to ask that? "Of course it's Rodney."
Dad's eyes flicked up the stairs. "I think we should call your mother down for this."
I rested my cheek on my forearm. "She didn't want to talk about it. She said there was no way she was going to adopt her daughter's baby. But you'll talk her into it, won't you?"
Dad pressed both of his hands over his face, and he didn't answer.
"Dad?" I said. "Seriously. Why doesn't anyone see what a good thing this could be? This is your baby we're talking about."
Dad dropped his hands to his knees, his eyes meeting mine. "No, Penny," he said. "You are my baby."
My body deflated. Oh.
Dad shook his head. "Where is Rodney?"
Maybe gone forever. "I don't know," I said. "I told him earlier today."
Dad's hands balled into fists. "And then he left you to face your parents on your own?"
Ugh. Now, on top of everything, I was making Rodney look like a jerk. "No," I said. "It's not like that. He said he needed time to think."
Dad sat back in his chair. "Time to think about what? Did he push you into this?"
My eyes widened. "No," I said. "Never. It's my fault, okay?"
Dad crossed his arms. "It takes two."
But only one of us was the liar. "Please," I said. "Things are complicated enough with him right now."
Dad glared at the empty chair next to me, where presumably Rodney should have been sitting. "Seems pretty simple to me," he said.
I sighed. At least I'd spared Rodney this. "Can we talk about what's going to happen now?"
Dad settled back into his chair. "Okay," Dad said. "You want your mom and me to adopt the baby."
My voice came out as a plea. "That's the obvious thing to do, right?"
"Maybe," Dad said. "What about Rodney? What does he want?"
Blood filled my cheeks. By now he must have rethought his proposal. It had been a knee-jerk thing. Hadn't it?
"I don't know," I said.
Dad gave a sharp nod. "We'll have to talk to him. And his parents."
My stomach dropped. "His parents?" I hadn't even thought about the conversation that he had ahead of him. They didn't care much about what Rodney did, as long as he kept his grades up. He said all they really wanted was for him to stay out of their way.
How could I not have thought about this? I told him I loved him, but I still wasn't anticipating his feelings. "Do we really have to bother them about it?"
"Of course," Dad said. "They should all be involved in these decisions."
I closed my eyes. The least I could do for Rodney was leave him out of awkward conversations with my family. I ran my nails around the under edge of the table. "Does he?" I asked. "Lily's boyfriend wasn't involved."
Dad raised one eyebrow. "Lily's boyfriend made her get out of the car on the highway when he found out she was pregnant."
Jeez. Poor Lily. "Rodney's not like that," I said.
"I know," Dad said. "That's my point." He stood up from the table. "I better go talk to your mother."
I stood along with him. By now, maybe Mom had calmed down enough to be reasonable. "Can I come?"
"From the way she sounded on the phone," he said, "I'd say you'd better not."
My shoulders sank. "You have to convince her."
Dad shook his head at me. "You know how sensitive your mom is about these things," he said. "She never wanted this for you."
My vision blurred. She never wanted my life to be like hers, having kids so young. But it wasn't. I was having a pregnancy, not a baby.
Unless she refused to take it. And Rodney refused to forgive me.
Where would that leave me then?
When my vision returned, my eyes focused on a picture in a photo collage on the dining room wall. Mom couldn't be much older than me, and she held a one-year-old Athena in her arms.
I sank back into a chair. Mom had to get over this. If she didn't I'd be just your average pregnant teenager, with no real options except bad ones.
Dad trudged up the stairs, leaving me sitting at the dining room table. Clouds passed over the sun outside the kitchen window, and the room grew dim.
I pulled out my phone. Still no word from Rodney. He said he needed time, but how much time? Hours? Weeks?
Months?
No. He couldn't possibly let this hang between us that long. He had to be going as crazy as I was.
I brought up another text message. There must be something I could say to make things better. But everything I could think of was something I'd already said. Rodney wouldn't talk to me, and Mom wouldn't talk to me, and Dad needed to be there for Mom.
So instead I dialed Athena. She would freak out, but at this point, that was preferable to the ringing silence of the empty downstairs. I needed to tell her before she heard it from Mom or Dad, but more than that, I just wanted to talk to someone who wouldn't walk away.
The phone rang twice before she picked it up. The blunt approach hadn't worked well with anyone else, but with Athena, it was the only way to go. She had no patience for beating around the bush.
"Hey, Penny," she said.
Rip off the Band-Aid. "I'm pregnant," I said back.
Athena was silent for a long moment. "Where are you?" she asked.
"Home," I said. "Mom and Dad know."
She swore. "Are you grounded?"
"Um," I said. "I don't know. They're not really talking to me."
"Typical," Athena said. "I'm coming to get you, okay?"
I looked up the stairs. Mom and Dad had their door closed. "Do you think they'll let me leave?"
"Convince them."
"Okay," I said.
As we hung up, I stood up straight, rolling my shoulders back. Finally. A response I could get behind.
I went upstairs and knocked on Mom and Dad's door. Their voices hushed inside. Dad opened the door; Mom sprawled on the bed behind him with a washcloth over her eyes.
"I'm going to Athena's," I said.
"No, you're not," Mom shouted from the bed.
Dad lowered his voice. "It might be a good idea for you to go," he said.
"Tony!" Mom said. "If you're going to undermine me, at least do it where I can't hear."
He looked over his shoulder at Mom, who peeked from underneath the washcloth. He spoke to her in his reasonable voice. "I think you two could both use some space from each other."
"If it's up to me," Mom said, "she's never leaving the house again."
"That," Dad said, "is exactly what I mean."
Dad and Mom looked at each other, having one of those moments where they communicated only with their eyes. "Fine," Mom said. "It's not like she's going to have fun breaking this news."
Athena was probably already preparing her speech about what an idiot I was. But at least she would stick around to yell it at me.
Probably for hours.
I sat on the porch swing, under the awning, waiting for Athena. A drizzle of rain floated onto the lawn and grew gradually thicker until a stream of water pumped through the drainpipe at the edge of the porch. Rodney loved the rain, mostly because droplets of water were so much fun to photograph on almost anything.
Was he out shooting in it now, without me?
Athena had her headlights on when she pulled into the driveway, windshield wipers still thumping away. She pushed the side door open and waited whil
e I sprinted through the rain to the car.
I sat down, wiping the rain from my arms, and Athena pulled backward out of the driveway again, looking up toward the house for Mom and Dad. "We had a fuzzy connection, right?" Athena said. "You're perfect. Or paraplegic. Not pregnant."
"Pregnant," I said. "Unfortunately."
"Okay," Athena said, holding a palm up to me. "I'm going to say this out loud, and then you're going to tell me I'm wrong. Ready?"
My nails dug into the armrests. "Ready," I said.
"Tell me you didn't do this on purpose."
The windshield wiper blades squelched across the window. Swish, swash.
Athena focused intently on the road. "Tell me," she said, "that you weren't planning this when we had that conversation about sex."
Swish, swash. Swish, swash.
Athena pulled up to a stop sign and put her hand on my arm. Her voice softened with a kindness I rarely heard from her. "Penny," she said. "You know how psychotic that is, right?"
I tore my arm away. "Mom needed help," I said. "Why am I the only one who sees that?"
Athena waved a finger at me. "Mom is crazy," Athena said. "She'll do anything to have a baby. She's sacrificed all of our happiness over it. She needs professional help. She—"
"She won't take my baby," I said.
Athena's mouth fell open mid-rant. "What?"
I collapsed against the car door. "She said she can't adopt my baby. It would be too weird. Twisted, was her word."
Athena actually looked impressed. "I . . . didn't see that coming."
My voice pitched upward into a whine. "You say that like it's a good thing."
Athena wobbled her head from side to side. "Maybe it is," she said. "I didn't think there was anything as important to Mom in this world as a baby."
I threw up my hands. "But I'm still pregnant," I said. "What am I supposed to do? Give the baby to someone else?"
"You could get rid of it," Athena said.
My heart stopped. An abortion. That was still an option.
Athena spoke with a steadiness I hadn't heard from anyone all day. "Seriously," she said. "I can drive you to a clinic in the morning. I'd take you now, but I'm sure they're closed."
My limbs went cold. "Do you think Mom would ever forgive me?"
Athena rubbed her temple. "Maybe what Mom thinks shouldn't be your first priority."
I sat back, letting that sink in.
Athena punched the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. "I knew I shouldn't have left you alone with her."
"What?" I asked.
"When I moved to school. I knew I shouldn't do it. I couldn't deal with Mom anymore, but you didn't have a choice. And without me there to keep you sane—"
"Mom didn't ask me to do this," I said. "It was my decision."
"It was a bad decision," Athena said. "Really bad."
"Well, congratulations," I said. "For once you and Mom agree."
Athena stared at the road, in a mixture of frustration and shock.
"That's not supposed to be the surprising part," I said.
"No," Athena said. "The shocker is that I was too stupid to see this is what you were getting at when you brought it up before."
I slouched and pulled up my knees, resting my heels on the edge of my seat. "You're not going to tell Mom I did this on purpose, are you?"
Athena's eyes widened. "Are you kidding? I'm not going to breathe your name around Mom for the next nine months. You think I want to deal with the drama?" She was quiet for a moment. "Seriously, though, she didn't guess?"
I shook my head. "Only Rodney knows."
Athena glanced up at the ceiling. "Oh, jeez. Rodney. How'd you talk him into this?"
Raindrops blew across the passenger window in quivering streams.
Athena's eyes flicked to me. "You told him," she said. "Tell me you told him."
"I didn't tell him," I said quietly. "Until after."
Athena swore.
I knocked my temple against the glass of the window. "I know," I said.
Athena stared at the road, stunned. "Okay, that does surprise me. You've always been the one to do whatever you think Mom wants. But Rodney? I didn't think you'd give him up for her. He's been in love with you for years."
The glass chilled my skin. How was I the only person on earth who didn't know this? "I didn't know I was giving him up," I said. "You said sex didn't matter to guys."
She held up a hand. "Oh, no," Athena said. "You didn't get this idea from me."
"No," I said. "I'm just saying."
Athena's voice grew quiet. "I knew I botched that conversation, but damn."
"You said sex didn't change things, so I thought—"
Her finger stabbed the air. "I said be careful, or you'll get hurt."
"Well, congratulations. You were right. Again."
Athena was quiet for a moment. "Are you okay?"
"No," I said.
She spoke carefully, like she didn't want to make it worse. Not that she could. "So, Rodney broke up with you?"
I closed my eyes. "He said he needed some time to think."
Athena leaned forward. "He'd probably be relieved if you got rid of it, right?"
I thought about the way Rodney looked at me when he asked me to marry him. If I aborted the baby, it would be like telling him he didn't matter. He didn't get a say. Again.
"I'm not going to get rid of it," I said. "Mom will come around."
Athena sighed. "She probably will. But think about it, because that might make things worse, rather than better."
"Mom isn't a monster," I said.
"Maybe not," Athena said. "I hope you still feel that way in nine months."
Chapter Eleven
Week Five
I slept on Athena's floor that night, wearing one of her t-shirts and some gym shorts. Athena texted Dad to let him know I wasn't coming home, and he responded saying he'd pick me up before school in the morning.
"He's going to kill me," I told Athena.
"Ha," Athena said. "You wish you could get out of this that easily."
Sleep wasn't fast coming, though. I lay between two layers of fleece blanket with Athena's extra pillow stuffed under my head. I watched my phone, waiting. I wondered if Rodney was doing the same.
An hour passed as I listened to Athena and her roommate breathing. Then, finally, I grabbed Athena's laptop from her desk.
I checked my email, and then logged into Rodney and my online storage account. I half-expected to discover he'd deleted the thing. Instead, I found a brand-new set of photos with today's date. Rodney always kept the originals on his computer—he wasn't set up to automatically upload them. That meant he'd dumped them into the folder on purpose, and there was no reason to do that unless he wanted me to see them.
I opened the first one. It was a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge, taken standing on the walkway, looking up at one of the towers. The sky behind the tower churned with angry clouds. I immediately wanted to shift it into black and white.
The images traveled across the bridge. Here was one of the San Francisco cityscape, here was another of a tourist leaning over the railing, looking down at the water. There was Alcatraz across the bay, and several of cars with red cable lines towering above. Rodney must have been lying on the sidewalk for those.
He'd walked the bridge—photographed it from every angle. He must have driven up after school, maybe directly after talking to me. It was only a forty-five minute drive, but the walk was miles. He couldn't have gotten home before dark. He must have gotten caught in the rain on the way back.
I scrolled through the folder. I wasn't sure what the message was supposed to be. Was I supposed to feel left out? I'd have given anything to have gone with him. But also, here was a folder of carefully selected images that he wanted me to have. Like a gift—a glimmer of the friendship we used to have.
Maybe a suggestion that it wasn't quite over.
I checked Athena's software. She had an image e
diting program—not a great one, but one that would do in a pinch. I responded to Rodney in the only way I knew how; I imported that first image and went to work.
When Athena shook me awake in the morning, I was running on four hours of sleep, but I'd edited the first ten images in the folder. Rodney would be able to see the time stamp on the saved images. He'd know I'd stayed up working on them.
I hoped he got the message I intended to send. I still wanted to try, if he did.
Athena waved my cell phone in front of my face. "Morning, sunshine," she said. "Dad's waiting for you out front."
I looked up. Athena's roommate was still passed out on her bed, oblivious. And as I left Athena's dorm, yesterday's jeans sticking to my legs, fuzzy hair sticking out walk-of-shame style, I couldn't help but wish that were me.
Dad sat in his car in the pull-through next to Athena's building. As I walked toward it, I slowed my pace: there in the passenger seat sat Mom, her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail, her eyes safely shielded behind sunglasses. It was her uniform for the days after the disappointments, the days after her periods or miscarriages or, worst of all, lost children.
I took a deep breath, sucking air down into the tips of my toes. She might yell at me, but today, I wasn't going to yell back. Today, I was going to stay calm. She could scream like a banshee all she wanted, but it wouldn't change the facts. I had a baby; she needed one. Objectively, this should be easy.
Dad waved to me as I climbed into the backseat. But Mom didn't even turn to acknowledge my presence.
"Morning," Dad said. "Where would you like to go to breakfast?"
My stomach squirmed. Preferably somewhere where they didn't serve, you know, food. That answer wasn't going to fly, though, and if Dad wasn't taking me straight home, he must have taken the morning off from work.
At least we were going somewhere public. Mom couldn't yell at me in public. As much.
"Mom can choose where we go," I said.
"Hmph," Mom said.
Dad gave me a look in the rearview. "Waffles?"
Waffles were edible, and therefore disgusting. But a waffle place would have a menu, and a menu might have something I could nibble on without my stomach rebelling. "Whatever you want," I said.
Dad drove us to a corner restaurant with a checkered tile floor. The hostess took us to a booth by the window where the back of the vinyl seats shone with layers of oil from other people's hair.
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