Anastasia's Grail

by Mary Pearson

her mother to pick them both up.

  Broken Heart

  Her mother said nothing about the note she had left when she picked her up with Junie. She kept a cheerful banter about unimportant things until they reached the house. When they got there Stacy asked her if Grandma Annie would mind if Mom spent a little time away from the shop that morning. They needed to talk. Her mother nodded and crossed the street to let her grandmother know. Stacy, meanwhile, led Junie to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?” she asked the other girl, who shook her head.

  “At least let me make you something,” Stacy insisted, “cereal, or toast?”

  Junie grimaced and said, “Maybe some crackers.”

  Stacy dug some thin wheat crackers and saltines from the cupboard and poured each of them a glass of juice without asking. Stacy helped herself to a small handful of wheat crackers in the hope that it would make her guest more comfortable. “Are you taking prenatal vitamins?” she asked the younger girl, who shook her head. “We’ll have to get you some.” Stacy fidgeted with her juice glass. “Junie, are you OK with me telling my mom about your situation? I think she could give you a lot of help. She’s been there, too.”

  Junie looked up quizzically, but Stacy didn’t elaborate. Junie nodded and nibbled crackers while they waited for Stacy’s mom to come back, which she did rather quickly, accompanied by Reecie.

  “I would have been here sooner, but I had to bundle Reecie. I couldn’t leave her there all morning with only Grammy,” she explained, tugging at the toddler’s coat. With snack and Barney tape in front of Reece, Rose was finally able to give the girls her full attention.

  “Mom, Junie is pregnant.” The next part was much harder for Stacy to say. “Darius is the father.” Her voice was flat, betraying none of the volcanic anger she was feeling.

  Rose breathed out. “I see… “ she said after an uncomfortable pause.

  “Darius wanted her to abort,” Stacy continued dispassionately. “I told her she doesn’t have to. I promised we would help her keep her baby. We will, right?”

  “Oh, absolutely!” There was no hesitation in her mother’s voice. “In any way that we can. Can I ask, do your parents know yet?”

  Junie shook her head. “I can’t tell them. My Mom’s boyfriend said they’d kick me out if I ever got knocked up.”

  Rose chewed her lip. “Hopefully he was exaggerating. Still we have to give them a chance to accept the situation.”

  At the look of total fear in the young girl’s eyes, Rose reassured her. “We won’t let you tell them alone. Stacy and I will come with you. If it’s as bad as you say, you can come back here and live with us, if that’s what you want. Or if you would rather go somewhere else, we can arrange something for you. There are many people who are willing to assist you in your time of trouble. I will connect you with those people. Junie,” Stacy’s mother put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, “there is no reason that you can’t keep your baby, no matter what obstacles there may be. Also, if raising a child is too much for you to handle, there are people who would give anything to adopt. Your child would be wanted and loved and given everything he or she needs to have a wonderful life—whatever you choose. I promise you, I will help in any way I can. In a way, I know how you feel.”

  Stacy’s mom told Junie how she had gotten pregnant with Clarice, how, at the time, she couldn’t imagine what she would do to care for her, since she was already a single mother, having lost her husband. At that time she had an office job in the city. She had decided to give it up and work full time with Grammy, whose business was just taking off. At about eight months of age, Rose realized that Reecie wasn’t achieving her milestones, like sitting up and rolling over. She mentioned this to their family practitioner, and he sent Reece in for testing. It was determined that she had suffered brain damage while she was inside, but with early intervention by a group of therapists, who were paid for (thankfully!) by insurance, Reece had started to make gains. She learned to walk about a year behind schedule. She was making little gains daily. Even though Reecie wasn’t developing at normal speed in some ways, in other ways she was advanced. She had a natural gift with music and this, coupled with her tiny stature reminded people of Shirley Temple. She was unusually friendly—greeting everyone cheerfully the minute she saw them—and she never forgot a name. Rose pulled out Reecie’s baby book and tearfully showed the young girl photos of Reecie’s developmental stages: when she was tiny and couldn’t use her hands, so she’d sit like a posable doll and swoop for her food with her mouth; when she wore braces on her legs so that she could learn to walk; the first time she got on the bus to Head Start. Now she went daily with other kids her age and was making friends and enjoying school.

  “Your baby probably won’t have the difficulties Reecie has, but even if she does, I promise you--” Rose’s words could not be more certain, “you will not regret having this child.”

  Then Stacy’s mom got out the developmental stages book and showed Junie the stage where her baby would be, after calculating her(or his) age. “You can keep this,” she said, handing Junie the book. “Maybe you’d like to share it with your mother.”

  At mention of this untackled hurdle Junie winced.

  Stacy’s mother sighed. When she spoke it was almost as though she were talking to herself. “I remember how it felt,” she murmured. “I pictured how everyone would react—my mother, my daughters, the people at church. I as much as prayed that God would make the baby…” she shot a guilty look in the direction of Reecie, who was contently singing Mr. Golden Sun, complete with arm gestures. Blinking back tears, she turned to face Junie, “Do you believe in God?” she asked the young girl.

  “Yes, Ma’am. I went to Sunday school until the eighth grade.”

  “Then you know this world is only a test. It doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks or says or does. I had to picture that nothing else was real, nothing mattered—only God, the little baby, and me.” Rose brushed a tendril of blond hair from the young girl’s face. “Can you do that?”

  Junie pursed her lips, then nodded. So they brought Reecie back across the street and together they drove to the west side, where Junie lived in an apartment with her mother and her mother’s burly boyfriend.

  Junie’s mother was small-boned, like her daughter, but with straggly hair. She looked like a worn-out version of Junie. Her boyfriend was named Ed and he was no boy. He more closely resembled Brutus from the Popeye cartoons.

  “What’s this all about?” he said gruffly when the five of them were seated in the living room.

  Junie faced her mother, her face ashen. “These are my friends,” she gestured to Stacy and Rose. “They came to help me tell you—I’m pregnant.”

  Before her mother could respond, the boyfriend spat out. “Doesn’t surprise me.” He laughed dryly. “Well, you know what we said--” He pointed to the door. “You can pack your bags.”

  Junie’s mother shot him a look. “How far along?” she asked her daughter.

  A single tear rolled down Junie’s cheek. “A couple of months,” she told her. Then she looked at her hands in her lap. “Mom, I want to keep the baby.”

  After the merest fraction of a pause the mother said firmly. “I should hope so. That’s my grandchild we’re talking about!” She turned to Ed, who was glaring at her. “And if you’ve got a problem with that, you can pack your bags!”

  The big man’s eyes locked on hers. “Is that what you want?” When she said nothing, he got up, scowled and left the room.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” Junie said.

  “I’m not.” She hugged her daughter. “You’re gonna be OK,” she murmured, caressing Junie’s hair, then she looked at Stacy and Rose with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you,” she said.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Rose asked her when they were driving back home.

  Stacy just shook her head. Instead she pulled the ruby necklace from her pocket and wordlessly dropped it in her mother’s lap. The look of elation on Rose’s face qu
ickly became one of realization and her mother knew better than to say anything. “Give it to Grammy for safekeeping. I doubt if I’ll be needing it anytime soon.”

  When they arrived she headed straight for her room. The first thing she saw were the roses he had given her in various stages of decay. She gathered them all and, with an effort because it was jammed, she unlatched the window and heaved them out. Crimson petals splashed all over the otherwise pristine snow. Then she yanked the broken heart from her neck without unfastening it and dropped it, chain and all, into the waste basket in her room. But that wasn’t good enough. She emptied the little waste basket into the larger one downstairs and, tying it off she stuffed the thing into the dumpster. The garbage guy came on Monday and he was welcome to it.

  Returning upstairs her eyes lit on the beautiful velvet dress she had worn to the winter formal and tears started to flow down her face. Harshly, she pushed it to the back of her closet. How dare he ruin her memories! This whole lovely, wonderful year was so much rubble in her mind and every time she tried to call up a happy thought she was met with pain like a dagger thrust to her gut. She couldn’t stop crying. No music could comfort her. Not even Reecie could get her to smile, although she tried. She patted Stacy’s hair and said, “Whatssa matter…?” When that didn’t help she said,