“I can do this with you, Cam,” I tell her, trying to remain calm, trying to convince her I can actually do this with her.
“You shouldn’t be here. I don’t want my parents to know…my dad will kill you, AJ. Please believe me. I’m not doing this to hurt you. Can’t you see this is destroying me?”
“You don’t want your parents to know what? That you’ve been dating a middle-class seventeen-year-old? Am I not good enough for you? What the hell is it? We love each other. What else matters?” I got their seventeen-year-old daughter pregnant…she’s trying to protect me, but I need to protect my daughter now.
“That’s not it,” she cries.
“Then what, Cammy?” I’m walking with her through the parking lot, my arm holding up as much of her weight as possible while we step inside of the hospital.
“My dad said when he found out who did this to me, he’d make him wish he was never born.” Hearing this doesn’t come as a surprise. He’s the chief of police for our town and I believe he’d destroy me in any way possible. It was the first thought I had when she told me she was pregnant. Yet, I’ve stuck with her, offering to be here, be the father to this child and do the right thing. The only saving grace I could think of was that he wouldn’t want his grandchild growing up without a dad. Although now that I’m not going to have a chance at being a dad, it gives him no excuse not to ruin my life. Still, I won’t be bullied away from this—from her and our daughter.
“I don’t care,” I tell her.
She stops in the empty hallway and grips her hands around my shoulders, staring her doe-like gaze up at me. “I care. I don’t want to ruin your life. I love you, regardless of what’s being forced on us right now. This isn’t what I want, and I hope you’ll realize it someday.” Right at this moment, I would give anything to know what my legal rights are, but I’ve run out of time, and I’m more or less stranded in the middle of a dark woods, alone with no light and no direction.
“You can’t do this,” I beg again, even though I know now this isn’t her decision. Blame is just pouring out and I can’t control it. I just have to fight this. I will fight until I win.
Cammy has been in labor for hours now, and I’ve managed to convince her not to call her parents. In a normal situation, I know it would be wrong to beg her not to call them, but if they arrive, I will have to go. I can tell that much from the conversations we’ve had over the past few hours. If I could only convince her to change her mind about giving our child away, we’d be okay. She isn’t budging on this, though.
A nurse just walked in to ask Cammy some questions and now she’s asking if I’m the father. As I open my mouth to respond, Cammy interjects with a firm, “No. I don’t know who the father is.” I’ve suddenly become Cammy’s good and loyal friend who wants to be here in her time of need. I want to call her out and make a scene but I’ll be kicked out, so I bite my tongue harder than I’ve ever had to bite it, and I swallow my pride.
The doctors have made her comfortable with pain medication, and though she seems relaxed as she crunches on ice chips, her eyes look as if they’re struggling to stay open, her skin is paler than white, and strands of hair are strewn across her forehead and matted down with the sweat. She looks like the definition of miserable, and watching her go through this pain and agony only brings up even more questions on how she could go through this and then hand our baby over to someone else.
“We’re graduating in a month. I was thinking we could get an apartment, and I’ll decorate one of the bedrooms for her,” I say, placing my hand down gently over her stomach. “She’s our daughter. We should give her everything we can.” I’m aware I sound insane. I feel insane, but I can’t give up hope, even if it’s the truth that she has no say in this.
“AJ,” Cammy mutters. “It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not,” I argue senselessly. I don’t know if it is or not, but I want to stand firm and tell her it’s not. It can’t be too late. She’s our child.
An older male doctor walks in during the middle of more pleading from me to her and tells us he was informed that Cammy is ready to push now. A nurse slides two clean gloves onto the doctor’s hands and he sits down on a circular stool at the end of the bed where Cammy’s feet are being perched in stirrups.