“Surprising indeed,” Callie added.
I sucked in a breath as they both looked at me accusingly. I knew my past would eventually catch up with me, but I certainly didn’t think it would like this. I don’t know why, but I just had a feeling that’s what the topic had been.
I could only imagine what the article said and how exactly they got their information. The only person that had even hinted at knowing was Mariah, and I hadn’t seen her in awhile. I still hung out with Nash regularly, but only as friends, which I again made very clear once Justin and I labeled ourselves.
I hopped off the counter, knowing I needed to explain myself. “Look, I planned on telling you guys sooner, but I’ve always had to keep it a secret, mainly because my mother didn’t want it to get out. It happened right after I turned seventeen. I’ve talked about my boyfriend at the time before, Chris?”
They both nodded their heads in acknowledgement but remained silent.
“Well, he was my first, and the one time with him was when it happened. I remember the morning I woke up and for some reason, thought about when my last period was. I drove to the closest pharmacy and bought about ten tests before hurrying back home to take every single one.” No matter how many I took all of the results still came out the same, a little positive sign or a smiley face, I threw every single one of them across my room as if they were mocking my mistake.
“Didn’t you think to use protection, Della?”
“Of course, but it happened at a party, and both of us were drunk. I told Chris to stop when I realized that he didn’t have one, but he promised he would pull out in time, and I was stupid enough to believe him.”
“Oh, sweetie. You don’t need to tell us anymore,” Callie said, patting one of my hands that were shaking.
“No, I need to.” I wiped a lone tear off my cheek. Really, my story was just getting started. “So when my mother found out, she went ballistic. The taping of the show was still going on at that time, so she did everything in her power so that no one would find out.
No one except for Chris of course. I guess you could call it fatherly instinct or something, because he came over one afternoon while I was home “sick” from school. He actually acted happy about it, like we could be a family or something, not even graduated from high school. Sure, our parents had a lot of money, but we didn’t.
I knew there was no way that they would stand by our decision if we decided to keep the baby. But my mind still wasn’t made up when my mother whisked me to some disclosed clinic that was very hush-hush.” I closed my eyes, picturing the white sterile walls that still haunted my dreams. Everything had been so clinical. No one had spoken to me, not one word.
The doctor had actually mumbled something about the rich, stupid teenagers getting themselves knocked up now a days. Everyone had been cold and uncaring, not thinking for one second about my feelings. I had tried to stop them right at the last minute, but they had just ignored me, while my mother stood there the whole time glaring at me for what I had done.
“Afterwards, I fell into a deep depression. In my mother’s eyes it was pure luck that it happened during the summer, so she covered my absence with my friends by saying that I was vacationing in Europe. No one was there for me, and I felt so alone. Chris hated me for awhile because of what my mother had forced me to do, and I think that ate away at me even more.” I paused to take in their reactions, but they were unreadable as they stared back at me. I had come this far, I might as well get it all out there.
“I swallowed a handful of pills on the fourth of July. My mother and Gerald were gone as usual, leaving me alone, and I just couldn’t take the pain anymore. I really thought ending my life was the best thing to do. But before I could slip away, my mother came home and found me curled up in a ball on the floor. She actually saved me.” I didn’t add the fact that before she called for an ambulance, she called Gerald to see how she could handle it discreetly.
I don’t know if she knew that I had actually been coherent enough to hear her, but she probably wouldn’t even care. I had laid there numb, unable to move any part of my body, wishing that I would just get to the hospital in time.
I knew then that I didn’t want to die, even if my mother hadn’t been so worried about it. After my stomach had been pumped, and I had a mental evaluation, I was put into therapy. It had helped over the years to have someone to talk to that wasn’t involved in the whole situation and had gotten me through one of the worst times of my life.