It was the dumbest conversation I could have in the heat of this very real crisis, but I was glad for it. For one, it made me forget that I might be pregnant. Two, it let me voice out loud for the first time how much I thought the “sin” of premarital sex was bullshit. And it had nothing to do with me not loving God and wanting to be a good Christian. Three, it made me feel like I had an ounce of control over something. I got Oliver to shut his mouth, and he even appeared to be thinking.
“We’re gonna be late for school,” I said, grabbing my book bag and car keys.
“I’ll take the bus,” Oliver said.
“The bus is gone, Ollie. What? Don’t wanna be seen in the same car with your slut sister?”
Oliver rolled his eyes.
“Gosh, now all those hate notes in my locker are actually true!”
I love sarcasm. It’s such a powerful panacea, and the more sarcastic I was about the situation, the more I felt like I could handle it. I smiled.
“Stop it,” Oliver said. “If you’re pregnant, I’m running away because there’s no way in hell I’m living in our house with you and Mom and Dad. I’m not dealing with your hormones and all that other crap that happens to women when they’re pregnant.”
I opened my mouth to reply.
“Shut up. I’m not finished.”
I closed my mouth.
“And I think it’s really freaking unfair to be an uncle at fifteen, okay? I don’t know all the uncle stuff I’m supposed to know yet, and you’re a selfish bitch.”
I was shocked. And then I burst into a fit of giggles.
“I’m serious, Cadence!” Oliver said, but then he laughed, too.
“I’m naming my baby after you,” I said, tousling his hair.
“Get off!” he cried, jerking away. “And no you’re not!”
“I’m sooo naming my baby after you. And I’ll let you help me change diapers, too.” I pinched his cheek as I pulled into a parking space.
“Gross,” Oliver muttered, and climbed out of the car.
We walked together towards the school building, and the silence was sobering. Suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore, and I felt the same sinking feeling in my chest I experience every time I ride a roller coaster. It was flat-out fear. It cried, “You might die today!” And as I walked through the school doors, I wondered why the hell I even rode roller coasters. Peer pressure, I realized, and in that moment, I decided no more roller coasters. Fuck roller coasters, I thought, and my hand instinctively went to my belly.
***
“What’s going on?” Mr. Connelly asked, shutting the classroom door.
“What do you mean?”
“Cadence, you barely looked at me this morning,” he replied. “You’ve been nervous. You’re acting strange, on edge.”
I shrugged, hanging my head.
“Look at me,” Mr. Connelly said.
“I can’t,” I whispered, watching the first tear plop onto the tile floor.
“Cadence, what’s wrong?” Mr. Connelly asked. He took my hand and led me to the closet.
“I don’t wanna go in there!”
“Okay,” Mr. Connelly replied, and dropped my hand. “We don’t have to go in there.”
I wiped my face as I rocked side to side, waiting for him to do something. I was hoping he’d just say I could leave.
“Why does that closet scare you?” he asked warily.
I paused before blurting,” Because I think I got pregnant in it!”
I watched as Mr. Connelly furrowed his brows. That was the extent of his initial reaction. Did he not just hear what I said?
“So you don’t know?” he asked softly.
I shook my head.
“How late?”
“Huh?”
“How late are you?” he asked.
“Eleven days,” I replied.
He pushed a hand nervously through his hair. “Were you—”
“Ovulating? Yes. At least according to the schedule I was. I don’t exactly know,” I replied.
I heard him hiss as he drew in a quick breath.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Somehow I thought it was all my fault. It was stupid. I understood we both shared equal responsibility, but I didn’t believe it because I was the one who might be carrying a child, not him. It was unfair to put that on myself, but that’s how I felt.
“Sorry for what, Cadence?” Mr. Connelly asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I did. I’m the one who didn’t use protection. I was impulsive and out of control.”
“I was there, too,” I argued. “I was just as impulsive.”
“But I’m twenty-eight,” he countered. “I know better.”
I bristled. “So because I’m eighteen, I don’t know how to control my urges?”
Mr. Connelly shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I nodded. I knew he meant it exactly the way he said it, but I didn’t want to argue. I was too frightened.
“I’m taking a test after school,” I said.
“I know,” Mr. Connelly replied. “You’ll come to my apartment.”
“Oh. Well, I could just take it at home,” I said.
“Why would you do that? I don’t want you to be alone. I’m just as responsible for this as you are. Come to my apartment after school, okay?”
“Okay.”
Mr. Connelly sighed heavily and walked to his desk.
“What if I am?” I asked.
“We shouldn’t worry about it until we know for sure,” he replied.
“Would you want me to get rid of it?”
“Would you want to?”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“I’m just asking you a question, Cadence.”
“Isn’t abortion a sin?”
“You’re asking me?” Mr. Connelly sat down and picked up his pencil. “I don’t know if it’s a sin, but I don’t think it’s wrong.”
“So you want me to get an abortion?” I asked, panicked.
“We don’t even know if you’re pregnant yet.”
“But if I were, you’d want me to kill the baby?” I pressed. I felt lightheaded.
“It’s not a baby. It’s a parasite.”
I gasped and watched him shudder.
“A parasite?” I whispered.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He eyed me carefully. “Cadence? I’m sorry I said that. I didn’t mean to be offensive.”
“Why would you say something like that? What’s wrong with you?”
I’d never seen that look on Mr. Connelly’s face, and I prayed I’d never see it again. I thought he could slice my body in two with his eyes. They were daggers, and they were pointed at me.
“Don’t insinuate I’m some fucking asshole. You don’t know my past,” he said.
I was shocked and stared at him for several minutes. He stared back, but his eyes were softer now, and I wasn’t afraid of them.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.