A Beautiful Child

by Matt Birkbeck

  “Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath. You can’t go wrong with them, Jennifer,” Warren said before giving the phone back to Sharon.

  By Christmas, Jennifer knew to call Sharon during the late afternoon hours, before Warren returned home from work. She also knew never to accept another invitation to sleep over at the Marshall home. Sharon understood why, but Warren kept pushing the issue, especially during the holiday season. Instead, Jennifer extended an invitation for Sharon to stay at her home, and when she arrived that week before Christmas Day, Sharon came with gifts in hand.

  Each present was carefully and colorfully wrapped. Sue was delighted with her thermos and teapot, and Jennifer loved her sweater. Sharon was proud of the gifts. They were inexpensive but heartfelt. Clearly, Sharon loved to give, and the Fishers enjoyed being on the receiving end, feeling the utter warmth and goodness in Sharon, who in turn was thrilled with their warm reaction. They shared hugs all around and wished one another a Merry Christmas.

  Spring had arrived in 1985, and the Fisher family had just returned home from a trip to the mall. It was a Saturday, and the short family shopping trip was a chance to do something together, given that Joel was home for the weekend. As they pulled up to their home, Warren Marshall’s pickup truck was in the driveway.

  “I thought Sharon wasn’t visiting this weekend?” said Sue.

  “She’s not supposed to,” shrieked Jennifer, who was nonetheless thrilled with the unexpected visit.

  They pulled up to the side of the truck and Jennifer looked toward the front door of the house, but Sharon wasn’t there. Neither was Warren.

  “Maybe they went for a walk,” said Sue.

  They grabbed their shopping bags, opened the front door, and were startled to see Warren curled up on the living room sofa, apparently sleeping. Off to the side, sitting in the Queen Anne chair, was Sharon. She was looking down at the floor and crying, rubbing her hands together.

  Before anyone could say anything, Warren opened his eyes and casually picked himself up off the sofa.

  “My damn back. We came to visit and I had to sit down. The garage door was open, so we let ourselves in your house.”

  Jennifer called out to Sharon to follow her upstairs. Warren remained seated on the sofa, talking about his back and inability to obtain medical help.

  “Those damned doctors won’t help me. I’m in such pain. I can’t work; I can’t get anything done!”

  Warren spewed on for several minutes about his back and his overall misfortune, then finally stood up but continued his diatribe.

  Joel was furious, but kept his anger in check. Given the Fishers’ fondness for Sharon, they didn’t want to say anything harsh to her father. Warren finally stopped complaining about his back and said he’d return later in the afternoon to pick up Sharon. He walked out the front door and drove away.

  Neither Joel nor Sue had a clue as to how Warren and Sharon had entered the house without a key. The garage door was closed and the house alarm was on, or so Joel thought.

  The Fishers walked through the entire house and were satisfied that nothing was missing. Perhaps Warren was telling the truth, that he needed to lie down to relieve his aching back. Whatever the reason, they were convinced that there was something wrong with Warren Marshall.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sharon Marshall took the SAT again in June 1985 and this time scored a 1230, more than good enough for acceptance into most colleges. Add in her sterling grades, and Sharon could practically choose the college of her choice.

  Yet only one school was on her list—Georgia Tech.

  Her lofty grades and participation in numerous extracurricular activities, including the Future Business Leaders, Science Club, Math and Computer clubs, ROTC, the ROTC Drill Team, and the Cadet Honor Society, earned her one important honor: inclusion in the Who’s Who Among American High School Students of 1985.

  It was a successful year for Sharon, who even found time for a boyfriend.

  His name was Jason Anderson, a fellow junior at Forest Park. Jason was a big, strapping, blond-haired boy who played on the varsity football team. A poor student with a penchant for getting into trouble, teachers and students at Forest Park didn’t quite understand the match between the brilliant, beautiful, college-bound girl and the trouble-prone jock.

  Sharon’s relationship with Jason diminished the time spent with Jennifer, though the two would still talk on the phone once or twice a week, usually discussing details of Sharon’s dates. But the stories Sharon told Jennifer varied from what the students at Forest Park High School were hearing.

  Word had spread quickly how Sharon and Jason were always accompanied by Sharon’s father. Jason didn’t seem to mind at first, especially after Sharon explained that her father was a lonely widower and she hated to leave him by himself. Still, students couldn’t help but talk about the strange situation, how Warren would follow the couple to the movies or to the diner.

  Luckily, Warren didn’t accompany Sharon to her junior prom, though she almost got tossed off the committee in the weeks preceding the event. Sharon would bolt from committee meetings at 4 P.M. to be home in time to complete her house chores, but to remain on the committee and earn the class credit, she had to put in the same time and effort as the other students.

  Mrs. Worley, the teacher advisor, pulled Sharon aside one afternoon and said as much.

  “You don’t understand. I have to be home. My father is not well and needs my help,” explained Sharon. “There’s nothing I can do.”

  Mrs. Worley gave in, but regretted her decision the night of the junior prom, when Sharon somehow managed to sneak outside to Jason’s car in the parking lot. When they walked through the front door fifteen minutes later, they brushed by Mrs. Worley. Sharon’s purple, ankle length dress was crumpled, her hair in disarray. Jason’s tuxedo shirt was untucked and hanging outside his black pants.

  Mrs. Worley looked on disapprovingly. She was surprised at Sharon, but there was little she could do other than shake her head and whisper under her breath, “teenagers.”

  Sharon’s relationship with Jason ended a month later and by mid-summer, she was spending more time with Jennifer and the Fisher family. Heading into her senior year, Sharon was focused on one goal—acceptance to Georgia Tech.

  Jennifer entered her sophomore year in total lockdown. She’d had a disappointing freshman year, continuing to struggle with her studies, and her parents had had enough. She was barred from hanging out at the mall or Stone Mountain Lake. They even limited Sharon’s visits.

  The two friends continued to talk on the phone. While Sharon was upbeat and supportive, especially after completing her application to Georgia Tech, Jennifer fell into a depression that carried through the fall. She was trying to find her place in the world; Sharon prepared for a life filled with so much promise.

  The phone rang in the Fisher home late one afternoon in March of 1986, and when Jennifer picked it up and said hello, all she could hear was screaming.

  “I got it! I got it! I got into Georgia Tech!”

  It was Sharon. She had just arrived home from school and waiting for her in the mail was the acceptance letter from Georgia Tech University.

  “I’m going to Tech! I’m going to Tech! Can you believe it!” screamed Sharon. “And Jenny, I got a scholarship! A full scholarship!”

  Jennifer squealed back into the phone, “Aaaaaahhhhhhh!” rejoicing along to the great news.

  It was something Sharon had talked about since they’d first met at the student council camp two summers ago, and now she had made it happen. Sharon wasn’t just happy, she was delirious. All the hard work, the studying, and the extracurricular activities paid off. She was going to stay home in Atlanta, attend Georgia Tech University, study to become an aerospace engineer, and eventually work for NASA.

  It was a beautiful dream that was bearing fruit.

  But something was wrong. As they spoke, Jennifer sensed a sudden change in Sharon’s demeanor.

  “What�
��s the matter? You just told me this great news,” said Jennifer.

  Sharon paused.

  “It’s Daddy. He doesn’t know yet. I’m not sure when he finds out he’ll let me go.”

  “Are you kidding? This is your dream. How could he not let you go?”

  Sharon explained, as she had so many times before, that her father had health issues. If it wasn’t a bad back it was his neck, or his arthritis.

  “Jenny, I clean for him, cook for him. He’d be lost without me. If I don’t take care of him, who will?” said Sharon. “We don’t have anybody else.”

  Sharon didn’t have any aunts and uncles or cousins or grandparents, at least not that she knew of. Jennifer always thought it was sad that a young girl grew up missing a family, especially her mother. But Sharon appeared to be comfortable with her father. They had managed to get along fine, even if Warren was a little weird. And now Sharon had earned a full scholarship to Georgia Tech.

  “Your dad is going to be so proud of you!” said Jennifer.

  “Being proud of me and letting me go to college are two different things, Jenny,” said Sharon.

  Later that night, as Jennifer was getting ready for bed, the phone rang. It was Sharon, who spoke in a barely recognizable whisper.

  “Jenny, I told Daddy. He’s letting me go to college.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The full-page ad placed in the 1986 Forest Park High School yearbook spoke of unfulfilled promise and reminded all of a dream that, for the short term, had died.

  The ad, which featured a black-and-white photo of Sharon, drew attention for its seductive nature—Sharon posing demurely, her shirt collar up and buttons open. Underneath in large type was SHARON MARSHALL and below was Look out, Georgia Tech! Hello future Air Force General and aeronautical engineering career. Dad.

  The ad was placed eight weeks earlier, just before teachers and students noticed a change in Sharon’s physical appearance. She was gaining weight, particularly in her face and midsection. When questioned, she’d say she couldn’t take her hands off junk food, from cakes to potato chips and ice cream. But it was obvious something was seriously wrong, and the quiet talk among the teachers was that Sharon must be pregnant.

  Several teachers pulled Sharon aside and quietly asked her about her condition, even asking point blank if she were pregnant. Each time she denied it. But by May, it was clear that Sharon was carrying a baby, and it was decided that the ruse had to end.

  Sharon was called into the guidance office and there, unable to hide the physical truth, she broke down and cried, admitting that yes, she was pregnant and was due in early July.

  The father, she said, was her new boyfriend, a student named Curtis Flournoy.

  Sharon was devastated. Warren became enraged when he learned about the pregnancy and insisted she give up her scholarship to Georgia Tech. Sharon’s mood darkened in the weeks before graduation, her father having barred her from receiving her diploma with her graduating class. Depressed, Sharon ran away with Curtis, heading west to Alabama. It didn’t take Warren long to find them at a motel just across the state line. He burst into their room, his entrance startling the teenage lovers. Warren remained calm and gently pulled Sharon up by the arm. No need to discuss this now, he said. They’d all get a good night’s sleep and talk in the morning before returning to Atlanta. But there would be no discussion. Curtis found a note tucked underneath his door. It was from Warren, and it said that he was not the father of the baby. He was warned to leave Sharon alone. Curtis ran outside and knocked on the Marshalls’ door, but there was no answer. The motel clerk said they’d left in the middle of the night.

  The summer began for Jennifer Fisher as it ended the previous year, in total lockdown. She struggled with her grades again and fell in and out of periods of depression, especially after her parents learned she was experimenting with marijuana. Not even Sharon was allowed to visit, and the two friends grew somewhat distant. Jennifer was in a bad way, and weeks had passed since she’d last spoken to her friend. It was mid-June when Sharon reached out, and when she did, she was crying. She had some news to share.

  “You need to sit down.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Jennifer was shocked, numb.

  “Who was it? Your new boyfriend?” she said.

  “Yeah, it was that guy I was seeing,” said Sharon.

  Jennifer never knew anyone her age who was pregnant and was at a loss for words, even with a friend as close as Sharon.

  “Are you going to get an abortion?” asked Jennifer.

  “No, absolutely not. That’s not even an option. We’re leaving soon, going to move away. The weather is really killing my dad’s back, and he needs a better climate.”

  “Move?” said Jennifer. “What about college? What about your scholarship?”

  Sharon took a deep breath.

  “I’m going to have to hold off on college for now. I could start in a year. We’ll see. My dad is pretty upset and I need to give him time to chill out.”

  Jennifer had dealt with her own problems the past year or so, but nothing as life changing or dramatic as this. Trying to process it all was difficult. Sharon said they were leaving soon but wanted to visit Stone Mountain.

  “Jenny, can I see you? I want to come by before I leave,” said Sharon.

  Warren pulled up to the Fisher home the following Saturday morning, dropped off his daughter, then quickly sped away, not bothering to say hello.

  Sharon walked inside, shoulders slouched, chin to her chest. She was embarrassed and didn’t quite know what to say to the Fishers, who had treated her like their own daughter over the past three years.

  Sue Fisher was crestfallen when she learned the news and embraced Sharon warmly, tears flowing down Sharon’s cheeks. Jennifer cried with her friend, and the three women walked into the kitchen to talk. It was clear after several minutes of conversation that this wasn’t the Sharon Marshall the Fishers had come to know and love. Sharon was stressed, that much was obvious. That magnetic glow she exuded was gone, stripped away as she spoke about her predicament. And there was more news.

  “I think we’re going to Arizona,” said Sharon, staring at the floor. “The dry weather will help my father’s arthritis, and it’s pretty inexpensive to live there.”

  Sue and Jennifer exchanged wide-eyed glances.

  “And I was thinking that maybe next year I’ll go to Arizona State. They mailed me a brochure. It looks nice,” said Sharon.

  Sue could only sit and watch as Sharon’s life unraveled before her eyes. She wanted to grab her, shake her, hug her, yell at her. Sharon was like a daughter, and Sue wanted to deal with this like a mother. But she resisted. Warren Marshall may not have been a prize, but he was Sharon’s father, and Sue would never interfere. It wasn’t her place. She pulled Sharon into her chest and held her tightly.

  “Whatever you need from us, you know we’ll be there for you,” said Sue.

  She kissed Sharon on the forehead, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jennifer and Sharon alone to say good-bye.

  Sharon looked up toward Jennifer, a slight smile brightening her face.

  “Want to feel the baby?”

  Sharon pulled her shirt up and over her protruding belly, then took Jennifer’s right hand and guided it to a spot above and to the right of her belly button.

  “Feel that?” said Sharon.

  Jennifer giggled with every movement. But it felt so strange. This was a moment they were supposed to share when they were older, when they graduated college and were married. Jennifer felt a profound sadness.

  The beeping from Warren’s truck outside sounded an end to the brief visit, and the two friends walked toward the front door. Sue and Joel were there and each said good-bye, giving Sharon a kiss and a hug and reassuring her that if she needed anything, she should call them.

  Sharon then turned to Jennifer, and the two friends embraced, holding each other tightly.

  “Do
n’t forget to write me with your new address and phone number,” said Jennifer.

  “I won’t forget,” said Sharon. “I’ll write you every week. I love you, Jenny.”

  “I love you too, Sharon.”

  Warren beeped his horn again, and Sharon slowly walked out of the Fisher home and got into her father’s truck. The Fishers watched as Sharon and Warren drove down their block and out of view.

  The envelope that arrived in mid-July was postmarked “Mesa, Arizona,” and was addressed to Jennifer Fisher.

  Inside was an eight-page letter from Sharon that began, “Dear Jenny.”

  Sharon had had her baby, a boy, and Jennifer cried when she read the details about the birth of Sharon’s son—the painful and long labor, the birth, how much he weighed, and the wealthy family that adopted him. Warren had found the couple. They were two doctors from Texas who lived in a huge house. The baby would even have his own personal nanny. Sharon described the few minutes she’d had with her son, how she’d touched his hands and feet and fingers and toes. He was a beautiful boy, and she was crushed when the nurses took him away. It was so hard to give him up, she wrote, but she felt good that he was going to have a good life.

  Jennifer cried right through the final page, where Sharon asked if she could visit.

  She arrived two weeks later, having taken a Greyhound bus cross-country. Jennifer and her mother greeted Sharon as she walked off the bus, and they were thrilled to see that it was the Sharon of old.

  She had regained her glow and on the ride to the Fisher home was her bubbly, happy self. The week that followed was the happiest Jennifer had felt in a long time. They visited some of their old haunts, including the mall and the beach, guzzled Moosehead beer, and late one afternoon even decided to become blood sisters. They tiptoed into the kitchen, took a steak knife and poked at their fingers, but drew no blood. They laughed as they tried pricking the middle of their hands. Jennifer drew blood first, then Sharon. They held their hands palms up, with the warm blood trickling over their fingers, and pressed them together.