Farah's Deadline

by Brenda Maxfield

  “Okay, Lizbet, spill. What’s going on?”

  “It was a baby, Farah. A live baby who’s now dead.”

  “Meaning…”

  “I never thought of the baby as being a living thing who could die.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She put her hand on her stomach and tears filled her eyes. “It’s a person in there.”

  I moaned again and this time made no pretense of pretending it was anything else. “Lizbet, we all know that. Are you having second thoughts about giving it away?”

  She flinched and scooted back against the closet doors. “No, no. I could never keep it. I don’t want to keep it.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  She pulled open the door to her side of the closet and dug way back in the corner for something.

  I leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever she’d been hiding. She stood and turned toward me with a bulging paper sack in her hands. Her steps were slow and hesitant as she crossed the room, sat, and placed the bag between us. The sadness on her face made my eyes burn.

  “What is it?” I was afraid to touch it.

  Her hand shook as she reached inside and pulled out a ball of yellow yarn, a circular knitting needle, and a folded piece of knitting. She unfolded the piece with tender care and stretched it across the bed.

  “Is it a baby blanket?” I asked, unable to keep the shock out of my voice.

  Tears hovered on her lashes, and she nodded.

  “You’ve been knitting a blanket for your baby? In secret?”

  She grasped the blanket to her chest, and the bed vibrated as she rocked back and forth in a slow rhythm. “I don’t know why I did it. I truly don’t know.”

  I ran my hand over the soft yarn of the blanket. “It’s beautiful, Lizbet.”

  “I know, but why did I do it? I don’t even want the baby.”

  My eyes darted to hers. She’d referred to it as the baby instead of it. A first.

  I touched her shoulder. “Don’t worry about why you made it. What difference does the why make? It’s beautiful.”

  She blinked and wiped at her tears. Harsh determination covered her face. “It’s stupid. The whole thing is stupid.” She yanked at the blanket and stuffed it back into the sack without refolding it.

  Jumping off the bed, she snatched up the sack and tossed it to the back of the closet.

  I hurried after her and dove to retrieve it. “Stop it, Lizbet. It’s a pretty blanket, and you can give it to the family who’s taking your baby. Then your baby will know you loved it.”

  “But I don’t love it. I hate it.”

  “Aren’t you the one who told me you don’t hate?”

  Her nostrils flared, and she crumpled into my arms. “But I do hate. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.”

  We weren’t talking about the baby anymore.

  ****

  At ten o’clock, I heard cars pull up. Lizbet put down the book she’d been reading, and I rubbed my eyes.

  “Is it Jasmyn?” Lizbet asked.

  “Come on,” I said. We left our room and Rosaline left hers, too. Voices floated down the hall from the entryway — Edie and some other woman.

  The three of us entered the living room. Jasmyn stood next to the coffee table, looking ready to fall over. Her face was pale and for the first time, her lips weren’t vibrating with florescent pink lipstick. They faded into her face as if they weren’t even there.

  Edie saw us and rushed over. “Girls, Jasmyn is here with her mother and sister. She’s leaving us this morning.”

  My eyes went to Jasmyn’s almost flat stomach. Her coat hung open, and her pants sagged in loose wrinkles around her waist. I tried to avert my gaze, but I couldn’t shake my stare.

  Rosaline walked to Jasmyn and put her arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Jasmyn.”

  Jasmyn pinched her lips into a tight line and stretched up her neck. Her brown eyes stared straight forward. I wondered if she’d even heard Rosaline.

  Lizbet hung back, cowering next to me, her body shaking. Ariel stood in the doorway to the den, watching as if from the balcony of a theater.

  The woman came forward and nodded at us. She put her arm around Jasmyn and guided her toward the hallway. Jasmyn moved her feet across the floor, and I thought she would trip on each step. We shifted for them to pass.

  A girl with the same curly brown hair as Jasmyn stood next to Edie. Each eyebrow was plucked to a perfect arch. Her eyes darted around the room and over us. She seemed unsure what to do.

  Edie motioned toward her. “This is Megan, Jasmyn’s sister.”

  Megan smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you.” Her voice rolled over us like a pleasant melody.

  Rosaline took a sharp breath. “Is Jasmyn going to be okay?”

  Megan shook her head, and her forehead creased beneath her feathered bangs. “I hope she will be soon.”

  Edie cleared her throat. “Do you want to go help her pack?”

  ”No. Mom wants to be with her alone. I’ll wait here. I left the car running so it’ll be nice and warm for Jasmyn.”

  I walked over to Megan until we were a few inches apart. She seemed nice and so did her mom. But it could all be for show — I knew that only too well. I couldn’t help but ask, “Is your mom mad at her?”

  “For losing the baby?” Megan’s face crinkled in confusion. “It wasn’t Jasmyn’s fault.”

  “No, no, I know it wasn’t. I mean mad at her for getting pregnant in the first place.”

  Megan took a step back. “Why are you asking?”

  A good question. It wasn’t any of my business, but all of a sudden I worried Jasmyn might be going home to someone who hated or resented her. If this had happened to me, and it was my mother coming for me… I shuddered.

  “I want to make sure she’ll be okay,” I answered.

  Megan stared at me and seemed to read something in my face that reassured her. She smiled like we shared a secret. “She’ll be okay. What’s your name?”

  “Farah.”

  “Thanks, Farah.”

  I nodded and a covering of warmth spread over me. I felt relieved for Jasmyn, though I hadn’t realized I was concerned in the first place.

  Silence filled the room as we waited for Jasmyn and her mother to finish packing. Ariel leaned on the doorframe and chewed on her lip, and Lizbet perched on the edge of the couch as if she was waiting to take off into space. Rosaline, looking older than her twenty-three years, stood still and appeared to be counting her breaths. Edie seemed lost, her eyes jerking from one of us to the other, and Steve was nowhere to be seen.

  After what felt like forever, there was a commotion in the hallway. Jasmyn and her mother came out, and her mother was weighed down with two huge suitcases. Megan hurried forward to grab one. Jasmyn looked like a dull package wrapped in a dirt-brown coat. She gazed at Edie with dry eyes.

  “Thank you, Edie, for everything.”

  Edie gave a cry and rushed to her, smothering her in a hug. Jasmyn squeaked, and Edie jumped back. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

  Jasmyn didn’t respond.

  “Thank you, Edie,” the mother said. “We can never thank you enough. Come, Jasmyn, let’s get you home.”

  Steve appeared out of nowhere to open the front door for them. “Mrs. Riley, again I’m sorry. May God bless you. If there’s anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  Mrs. Riley nodded, and the three of them passed through the door. Steve shut it behind them.

  Lizbet sucked in a huge breath, stood up, and ran down the hallway to our room. I shrugged and followed. It was going to be a long day.

  ****

  After Jasmyn’s day of departure, we went to school for the rest of the week. Of course, Rosaline was at home, and I think she spent every day sitting in her room moping. All I knew was when we got back in the afternoon, the Home echoed like an empty tomb. Edie tried her best to be cheery and upbeat, but her efforts fell like rock
s on pavement.

  I counted the minutes until Sam was due to return. He was my bright light in the middle of disaster. I wanted to leave the Home. In the worst way, I wanted to leave. Whenever I thought of Pete, my agitation increased, and my mind would jerk from memory to memory, leaving me exhausted and hollow.

  Maybe Sam would end up being the one to help me leave.

  On Friday night, I did homework while Lizbet sat on her bed brushing and brushing and brushing her hair. I was surprised it hadn’t all fallen out in a tangled heap on her mattress.

  “I’m going to see Pete tomorrow.”

  That got her attention. “What? How?”

  “I’ve decided. Sam’s going to take me.”

  “He is? Did Edie say he could?”

  “He’s my brother, Lizbet. He’s twenty-five years old. I don’t need Edie’s permission.”

  “You better ask to be sure.”

  “I’m sick to death of asking for everything. Pretty soon I’ll be asking if I can take a breath.” I threw my calculator on the dresser, and it landed with a clunk.

  “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “Maybe I want to get in trouble. Then I could get kicked out of here.” I sat up straighter — why hadn’t I thought of that before? My mind buzzed with the possibility. If I got kicked out, Sam or Pete would have to take me.

  “Your dad would come get you.” Lizbet stated it with such finality I wanted to slap her.

  “No he wouldn’t.”

  “Farah, he would.”

  I glowered at her wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and still wanted to slap her. I leveled my best glare.

  Lizbet snorted. “Don’t take it out on me. I didn’t make the rules.”

  I stepped to her bed and sank down next to her. “But you love rules. Your whole life is one huge rule. It infuriates me.”

  She made a huffing sound. “If I’m not complaining, then why should you? It’s my life.”

  I clenched and unclenched my hand. My heart raced against my ribs, and heat rose to my neck.

  She was right. What was the matter with me? Talk about overreacting.

  Why was I so angry?

  I closed my eyes and inhaled with a long slow breath until my insides calmed down. “You’re right, Lizbet. You’re absolutely right. Sorry.”

  The corners of her mouth deepened into a scowl. “So are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Furious about my life being one big rule? You’re being kind of stupid, though.” She pointed to her stomach. “I broke every rule possible.”

  I reached over to touch her swollen waist. “This is not your fault. Not even a little.”

  She shrugged and balanced her brush on her knee. “Yeah, well.”

  “It’s not, Lizbet. You don’t think it is, do you?”

  “No.” She grabbed her hair into a loose ponytail and then let it drop down her back.

  “Does Ned ever call instead of come over?”

  She blinked. “Ned? Yeah, sometimes.”

  “I feel like talking to him.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, I just do.” I got up and walked back to my bed. Where did that come from? Why would I want to talk to Ned when my own brother was coming the next day?

  And why did I keep imagining Ned’s sapphire blue eyes on me? Why did I keep hearing his soft laugh and seeing his teasing smile? Had I forgotten his judgmental attitude? My heart lurched, and my lips tightened into a frown.

  Thinking about Ned at all was ridiculous.

  Lizbet rose from her bed and her eyes widened. “Do you like him?”

  “Of course I like him. You’re my friend, and he’s your brother.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then I don’t know what you meant.”

  “Yes you do.”

  I scrutinized her. “Since when did you get so worldly?”

  “Worldly? What are you talking about? I’m asking whether you like my brother.”

  “I’m practically engaged.”

  “You used to say you were engaged, not practically engaged.” Her eyes narrowed in accusation.

  “You heard wrong. I’m saying I am engaged. I’ll be getting the ring soon.” Funny how once a liar, always a liar.

  She shook her head, and her mouth puckered in disbelief. “You like Ned.”

  I gave up. “So what if I do.”

  “You’re pregnant, engaged, and keeping your baby.”

  I kept silent.

  “You can’t like him. You’re crazy. Plus he would never, never go for a pregnant girl.” She acted like she was defending her brother from a bully.

  “I don’t like him. Chill, Lizbet. I’m marrying Pete, so your precious brother is safe from the wicked seductress, Farah.”

  I stomped out, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door. I sat on the toilet lid and put my head in my hands. I did like Ned. He was kind and fun, and when he was around, everything improved.

  It hurt to admit it, but Ned was a better guy than Pete ever would be. And Lizbet was right; Ned would never like a girl who got herself pregnant and that was the truth. I wasn’t like Lizbet who’d had no choice.

  I stood up and peered in the mirror. My red curls trailed over my shoulders, and my green eyes were bordered with thick lashes. I was still Farah, and I was still pretty. I would be okay.

  So why did I feel so nervous, so unsure? The baby kicked, and I caressed my stomach. “It’ll be all right, little one. I promise,” I whispered.

  Tomorrow Sam was coming, and he would take me to Pete’s. I’d get this settled once and for all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lizbet and I weren’t talking. All Saturday morning, she sucked in her lips, clamping them tighter than a twelve-year-old’s diary. I let her be. I spent a good hour fixing my hair. Then I picked out an outfit that made me appear the least pregnant — jeans and a purple loose-knit sweater. I put on make-up. I needed to look so hot that Pete would pass out with desire.

  I steeled myself for the challenge. I planned to pull out every trick in the book to make this work. Sam would support me. I knew he would. He’d take me to Pete’s and wait in his car and let me do my thing.

  I hadn’t asked permission for Sam to take me anywhere, but I had a good feeling about it. I knew Edie would let me go. I was putting on the last touch of lipstick when a sudden thought made my hand stop in mid-air.

  Dad. What if he came to see Sam? What if he horned his way into the whole visit like he had last time? I’d never get away with going to Pete’s if Dad showed up.

  Dad wouldn’t be that big of a jerk again, would he?

  The bathroom door opened, and Lizbet faced me. “I’m sorry.”

  I put my lipstick tube on the counter. Her eyes were calm and steady. She continued, “If you like Ned, it’s fine. I’m thinking you can’t help yourself.”

  Her comment was so unexpected, my breath caught. Her expression intensified, and real affection for me was evident on her face. Her lips trembled, and I realized she was nervous, waiting for my response.

  “Thank you, Lizbet.” The words came slowly, and I searched for the answer she wanted. “Ned is great, but by the end of today, I’ll be engaged for certain.”

  She nodded. “All right. I wanted to make sure you knew I was okay with you and Ned.”

  I stared at her and realized she’d given me the most precious thing she had in the world — permission to share her brother. Not that he was hers to give, but she’d given him anyway. I regarded her limp hair and pale cheeks. She was plain-looking and weak, the most unlikely friend I’d ever have.

  I stopped myself. Weak? No, she wasn’t weak. She’d been raped and used, and her parents wouldn’t even acknowledge what the guy did to her. Weak?

  She was stronger than I was.

  Tears wavered on her lashes, ready to fall. I stepped toward her and surprised myself by grabbing her in a bear hug. I gave her a quick massive squeeze, our bellies squishing i
nto each other, then I let go and stepped back. We both smiled.

  “Thank you, Lizbet.”

  An unexpected feeling of shyness swept over me. I turned away from her and picked up my lipstick and continued decorating myself.

  Lizbet slipped out of the bathroom, leaving me staring at the stranger in the mirror.

  A nicer stranger.

  ****

  Before Sam was due to arrive, I was already pacing the living room. Edie kept eyeing me from the office. One time she called out, “You’re going to make a groove in the floor, Farah.”

  I’d laughed because she expected me to laugh. Inside, my nerves were raw, and I was ready to pounce.

  When Sam knocked, I don’t know who sighed louder in relief: me or Edie. I rushed to the door to let him in. The smile he gave me crinkled his eyes, making him seem older than he was. His face had a happy glow to it that warmed me because I didn’t see many happy glows these days.

  “Farah.” He grabbed me up and twirled me around. For a skinny guy, he was strong.

  “Sam, you’re here.” I was back on the floor and looking up into his eyes.

  “Still seems odd, doesn’t it?”

  “Real odd. How was your trip?”

  He stretched and wiggled his shoulders. “Long, but who cares. I was coming to see you.” His voice choked up on the last words, and he made no move to hide the moisture in his eyes.

  I snuggled into him and felt the cold his jacket still carried from outside.

  “What’s on the schedule today?” he asked me.

  Edie came out from the office. “Sam, how nice to see you again. I’m hoping you’ll be coming all the time now.”

  Sam grinned and glanced at me. “As often as I can, and as often as my little sister will let me.”

  “Yeah, about that…” I teased, and we both laughed.

  “Edie,” I started, “can Sam take me into town? Maybe we can get an ice cream cone or something.” I spoke too fast, my tongue tripping on the words.

  Let us go, let us go, let us go.

  Edie pursed her lips. “We ask that these things be arranged beforehand. I know it’s a bit of a special situation with you two. I’ll tell you what; I’ll call your father and see if he agrees.”