Oh, God. I'm sorry. That's awful. What a miserable decision to have to make. Is it too late for an abortion?
Much. She found out last week, and she's five months' pregnant.
That's not unusual, you know, Suzanne explained, as they sat on the couch in her office. I guess their periods are often irregular at that age, so they never even seem to suspect until it's too late. And their bodies are in such good shape that nothing shows. I've had kids come in here at seven months, and never suspected they were pregnant. Then, of course, there's always denial. This can't be happening to me.' It can't happen on the first date,' first time, last date, whatever. She sighed. It was a business built on grief and joy; the secret of her success was knowing how to mix it. Does she want to give it up? she asked Allegra very directly.
I don't think she knows what she wants, to be honest, but she knows it's the best thing to do at her age.
Not necessarily. I've seen fifteen year olds turn into terrific mothers. And I've seen women our age give them up because they know they just can't take care of anyone else, and don't want to. What does she want? That's really the key here.
I think a part of her would probably like to keep it. That's probably sheer instinct. But I think she also knows she can't take care of it. She's willing to give it up.
But does she want to?
Does anyone? Allegra asked honestly, and Suzanne nodded. She was good at what she did, and Allegra respected her for it. She had always liked her.
Some. Some women, or even girls, just have no maternal instinct at all. Others do, but make decisions based on practical motives. That's the hard part. I'd want to talk to your sister myself, to make sure that she's committed to giving the baby up. I don't like breaking hearts here. I don't want to offer the baby to some couple who've been trying to get pregnant for ten years, and have finally figured out it won't work for them, and then have your sister, or anyone for that matter, change their mind at the last minute. It happens sometimes, and you can never completely predict how someone will feel when they see their baby, but most of the time you can tell if someone's serious about relinquishing a baby.
I honestly think she will, Allegra said sincerely. It seemed to be the only answer for her.
Why don't you bring her in to see me.
They made an appointment for later that week, and Allegra called her mother at the office. She thanked Allegra profusely for taking care of it, and then reminded her that she had to start thinking about things like a wedding dress and bridesmaids.
Oh, Mom, Allegra said, from the sublime to the ridiculous. How can you think about that now?
We have to. Thank God, the baby business will be behind us by the time you get married. The next few months are going to be a nightmare. Especially for Sam, they both agreed. Her mother wasn't even angry at her, they just felt desperately sorry for her. And then Allegra told her that she was definite, and proper or not, she did not want her father on her wedding invitation. She would agree to let him come to the wedding, if he wanted to, but not announce it. It seemed a fair compromise to both of them, and Allegra promised to go shopping for a wedding dress as soon as she got Sam squared away with the attorney.
Allegra and Sam went to see Suzanne later that week. Blaire couldn't come, she had an appointment at the network. And Sam said she'd rather go with Allegra anyway. She really liked the young attorney. They talked to each other alone for a while, while Allegra waited in the waiting room and made calls on her cellular phone. Eventually Suzanne invited her back in, and announced that Sam had decided to give the baby up for adoption. She explained some of the conditions to both of them, what would be required of her, and what some of the adopting parents would expect of her. But she also told them that Sam would have a choice as to which couple she chose. Suzanne had seven excellent couples waiting at the moment locally, one in Florida, and two in New York, all of whom were candidates she felt sure the Steinbergs would approve of. But to Sam, it was all so confusing, and Allegra noticed that her sister looked a little dazed. Emotionally, it was all too much for her. But she had no choice now, no matter how miserable it made her. She seemed resigned to giving the baby up now, and she didn't ask any more questions about what would happen if she kept it.
After she left the attorney's office, she turned the music up in Allegra's car, and she played it so loud she almost deafened them on the way home. But it was as though she didn't want to hear anything anymore. She'd had all she could stand of real life for the moment. She was on independent study now, so she no longer had to go to school. She just had to send in papers, and do her exams in a special room at school. But she had a feeling that eventually everyone would know why she'd dropped out anyway. She'd only told two of her closest friends, and she'd sworn them to secrecy. But neither of them had come to visit her all week, and no one had called, except Jimmy Mazzoleri, a boy she had known since third grade, and used to go out with, but they were just friends now. Jimmy had called a couple of times, but she hadn't returned his calls. She didn't want to talk to anyone. And Sam and Allegra were both surprised to see him standing in the driveway when they got home. He had just come by to see if she was there, and he was about to leave as Allegra pulled in to drop Sam off.
I've been calling you all week, he said plaintively. You have my science book, and they said you weren't coming back, he said, eyeing her cautiously, as Allegra watched them. They were both so young and so innocent. It was heartbreaking that Sam would have to go through so much now. And as Allegra waved and drove away, she realized they reminded her of Alan and her at that age. They seemed to have that kind of comfortable friendship that, in her case, had lasted for sixteen years.
But Sam was looking kind of cool as she answered.
I was going to send the book back to you, she explained, looking embarrassed suddenly, hoping he hadn't heard why she had dropped out of school. He was a nice boy, and she liked him, but she had no intention of telling him she was pregnant.
So what happened?
I didn't get around to it yet, she said, walking slowly back to her house as he joined her.
I don't mean the book. I mean why are you out of school for the rest of the year? She groped for an answer and then thought of a good one.
Family problems, she said; it was perfect. My parents are getting divorced. I got really depressed over it, and I have to take a lot of medication ' you know, like Prozac. My mom was afraid I might kill someone at school or something, she thinks I get pretty erratic on that stuff, and ' She had gone too far and he was smiling at her. Even he recognized her tale as nonsense.
Knock it off, will you please? You don't have to tell me why. Everyone knew, or had guessed anyway. It was the only reason anyone ever dropped out, except to go to rehab. And Sam had never been a druggie. But he didn't tell her what he suspected, and besides, she didn't look it at all, so maybe they were all wrong. Maybe she had some other kind of problem. He had just wanted to be sure that she didn't have anything really awful, like leukemia. They had all lost a friend sophomore year, and he had panicked when he heard she wasn't coming back. That was how it had started with Maria. Are you okay? That's all I wanted to know, he said gently. He'd been seeing someone for a while, but he'd always had a soft spot for Sam, and she knew it.
I'm fine, she said, but the sadness in her soul came through her eyes and he saw it.
Whatever it is, just hang in there. You still going to UCLA in the fall? They were both going and he was relieved when she nodded.
I'll get your book. Come on in. He followed her inside, and he waited in the kitchen while she went upstairs. They hadn't gutted it yet, and Simon was still begging Blaire not to. Maybe now she wouldn't.
Sam was back downstairs with his book five minutes later, and as she handed it to him, he reached out and took her hand, and she looked up at him and blushed. She felt so vulnerable these days, and she didn't know why. It never occurred to her that it was because she was pregnant.
Hey ' if you need anythin
g, just call ' okay? ' We can go out for a ride ' or get something to eat. Things look different when you talk about them sometimes, he said gently, and she nodded. He was almost eighteen and mature for his age. His father had died two years before, and he had been helping his mother raise his three younger sisters. He was unusually responsible, and very caring.
There's nothing to talk about, Sam said, looking at the floor and then up at him. And then she shrugged. It was too hard to say anything else, and he understood. He just touched her shoulder and then left. And she stood at the kitchen window, and watched him go in his old Volvo. His family lived in Beverly Hills, and they were comfortable, and respectable, but they didn't have much money. They were still living on the insurance money and what his father had left them. He had a weekend job and he was getting a scholarship to UCLA. And he wanted to be an attorney like his father. She knew he would, too, someday. Among other things, Jimmy had a lot of determination.
And when he was gone, Sam sat down on a chair in the kitchen and just stared into space. There was so much to think about now, so much to decide. Suzanne Pearlman had told her exactly how the adoption worked, and now she had to pick new parents for her baby. It seemed so simple. To everyone but Samantha.
Chapter 15
Things almost settled down in the next two weeks, as much as they ever did, especially in the present circumstances. Sam had seen her mother's doctor by then, and she was fine. The baby was a good size, and seemed healthy. She was doing independent study work from school, and she was still very quiet and withdrawn, but she'd had two more meetings with Suzanne, and they had narrowed it down to four couples now, and Sam had more decisions to make over the next month or two, when they would narrow it down further. Suzanne was going to give her as much information as possible to work with. And she didn't want to rush her. She wanted Sam to make the right decision.
Allegra was trying to finish as much work as she could so she could get to New York for the weekend with Jeff to meet his mother. She wasn't exactly looking forward to it; they had spoken on the phone, and Mrs. Hamilton had asked a lot of very pointed questions, as though she were interviewing her for a job and she was not a likely candidate. It seemed funny to Allegra, and also a little insulting, but she didn't say anything to Jeff. She was trying to get everything organized for Bram's tour. He was starting in San Francisco on Monday and she wanted to be there, for the opening night at least. They were following a zigzag course around the country for the next several months, with a Fourth of July appearance at the Great Western Forum in Ingleside, near L.A., after which they were flying to Japan, and eventually around the world, and ending in Europe. Allegra had said she'd fly in to see him now and then, if she could. The tour was going to earn him a hundred million dollars by the time it was over, a pretty healthy chunk of cash, as Jeff said jokingly when she mentioned it. She would never have quoted the amount except that it had been all over the papers for months, and Bram had foolishly confirmed it.
But everything seemed to be under control right up till the day before Jeff and Allegra were to leave for New York for the weekend. His crew, their itinerary, the promoters had everything arranged. And then at midnight, the night before she was to fly to New York with Jeff, she got the call. The drummer had committed suicide, either intentionally or accidentally, by an overdose of drugs. Everyone was going crazy. The media were all over it, his girlfriend was being held by the police, and the whole tour was on hold until they could line up another drummer.
She was still on the phone with Bram at two A.M. He had just been to the morgue to identify his lifelong friend, and he was deeply upset. But so were the promoters. They had called Allegra ten minutes before Bram did. The phone rang almost constantly until six A.M., and Jeff was in a state by the time they sat down to breakfast. It was impossible to get any sleep with the phone ringing all night, and he had important meetings that morning.
I'm sorry, she said quietly, pouring him a cup of coffee. She had made a statement for the press about it the night before, and it was already on the front page of the L.A. papers. It was a rough night for everyone.
You should have been a cop, or an ambulance driver or something, he said, looking at her ruefully. You have the right constitution for it. I, on the other hand, do not. I need to get a little sleep every now and then, between phone calls.
I know. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Bram's tour is about to go up in smoke. I have to see what I can do for him today. Her mind had been racing since early that morning. Bram knew of several drummers he could break in, but it would take time, and most of them had other commitments.
Don't forget that our plane is at six o'clock, Jeff said pointedly.
I know, she said, feeling jangled. She left for the office half an hour later, and never stopped all day. She actually sat with Bram, and helped him reorganize the tour, and at four o'clock she looked at her watch, and knew that the shit was about to hit the fan. There was no way she could leave Bram. And she had to leave now, if she was going to make the plane. She had told Jeff she would meet him at the airport.
She called him at home, but he had already left, and he didn't believe in car phones, he said they were too California. So there was nothing she could do except page him at the airport. The much-joked-about white courtesy telephone actually came in handy.
She had him paged at five o'clock when they were supposed to check in, and at five-fifteen, he called her at the office. Alice told her he was on the line, and Allegra pounced on it. He didn't sound pleased to hear her.
Where are you? I guess that's a moot point, since I just called you at the office. What's happening?
The promoters are threatening to pull out of the tour on us, they're saying it's breach of contract, and as of this moment, we haven't lined up another drummer. I don't even know how to begin to say this to you, but I can't walk out on him, Jeff. The tour starts on Monday. She had been planning to fly up to San Francisco on Monday, to see him perform at the Oakland Coliseum. But it was out of the question now. They couldn't go anywhere without a drummer.
Isn't it up to his agent to fix this mess?
If he can, but I'm part of it, and they're going to need me to draw up new contracts.
Can't you fax them from New York?
She wanted to say yes, she hated to disappoint him, but this was her responsibility and she couldn't just walk out on it. She had to tell him the truth, no matter how mad he got about disappointing his mother. I really need to be here.
Okay, I understand, he said quietly, but his voice was like ice, and there was a long silence.
What are you going to do now? She was panicking that he would break it all off. What if she lost him? Will you still go? she asked, sounding nervous.
I'm going to introduce you to my mother, Allegra. I already know her, he said coldly.
I'm sorry, she said, agonizing over letting him down, particularly right in the airport. I tried to get you at home, but I missed you. Should I call your mother and explain?
I'll do it. She'll never understand. I'm going to tell her something outlandish like a death in the family, food poisoning, something. She doesn't know about rock tours.
Jeff, I'm so sorry.
I know. You can't help it. How about dinner? Can you manage that? Or are you fasting too?
I'd love it, she said, grateful that he was willing to forgive her, or at least feed her. She thought it was a good sign. He was an incredibly decent person.
It's not your fault, Allegra, I know. It's just a pain in the neck having our plans thrown out the window all the time, for someone else's convenience. Maybe when we get married, you can work on that a little bit. This time it makes sense, even to me, but most of the time, these people just expect you to wipe their asses for them, hold their hands, and make all their decisions for them.
That's why they pay me.
I thought it was for legal services.
That's what they tell you in law school, but like everything else they tell you,
it's all a lie. It's for wiping asses. She laughed softly and he smiled at his end.
I love you, you crazy woman. I'll drive back from the airport and pick you up at the office for drinks, and if Morrison can't spare you for a couple of hours, I'm going to punch him in the nose. And you can tell him I said so.
I will. Verbatim.
Everything okay? Bram Morrison asked her when she got back from talking to Jeff. She actually looked relieved. She'd been terrified he would break the engagement over her failure to fly to New York to meet his mother.
Yeah, she said with a smile. I was supposed to go to New York to meet my future mother-in-law this weekend, and I just canceled. Jeff was already at the airport.
I'm really sorry. He was soft-spoken and kind, and one of the hardest-working men she knew. Like most of the musicians she had worked with, he had done drugs in his youth, but unlike many of them, he had been clean for years. He was a family man, and a real genius with music. And he rarely took advantage of her time except when he really needed her, as he did now. But a star of his magnitude often had sudden and very major problems, like the threats to his kids, and now the death of his drummer.
Bram had long, disheveled hair, and a beard, and he wore little wire glasses, and he looked like a wild man as they pored over the new contracts. Someone had just told him about another drummer they might be able to get their hands on, a truly great one. Things were looking hopeful.
Jeff came by at seven o'clock, and she and Bram broke it up for a few hours. He needed to get on the phone and pursue the drummer anyway, and he told her to take the night off. They were to meet again at nine o'clock the next morning.
She and Jeff went to Pan e Vino for something to eat, and she looked harassed and exhausted, and even Jeff looked a little frayed. His mother had been absolutely furious over their cancellation. She had made reservations at Twenty-One for dinner on Saturday, and she was a person who didn't like her plans changed, especially by some girl she had never met from California.
the Wedding (2000) Page 28
