Question: “How did it happen?”
That one made me laugh. I don’t think he appreciated it. I coughed back the giggles and tried again.
Answer: “I must’ve forgotten to take a pill.” Total lie. I’ve never been on birth control, and I have no idea if skipping one time can result in pregnancy. But Jason didn’t call me on it.
Biggest question: “What do you want to do about it?”
Answer: “Keep it. It’s the only thing I can do.” Okay, the second sentence wasn’t accurate, but I wanted him to believe there could only be one choice for me, so I added, “I love you, Jason, and this is your baby. No way could I kill it or give it away. I’ll raise it on my own if I have to. Not sure how I’d manage it by myself, but I’d figure it out.”
At first he didn’t say a word, just stared off into space for probably five minutes. I gave him that time. Not like a life-changing event gets dropped in your lap every day. Finally, he reached for my hand. “I guess it’s time I had a son.”
I dropped my head against his chest. “I’m scared, Jason. When my mom finds out . . .”
He kissed me gently and said, “Everything will be okay. I promise.”
We had another hour together, and spent it in bed. No discussion of babies or just how everything will be okay. It only crossed my mind once to wonder if having sex could hurt the baby inside me. Don’t think Jason worried about it at all. I have no idea who to ask about it, at least not until I see a doctor. Now I guess I should.
So yesterday I turned seventeen. It started off as expected, with little recognition from my human incubator. She barely looked up from her newspaper when I sat down at the breakfast table. I worked real hard to come up with the right thing to say. “Hey, Mom. What was it like having me? I mean, the birth experience. Did it hurt like everyone says it does?”
I studied her face as she considered the question. Despite all the ugliness inside her, she’s actually kind of pretty for forty-two. Her hair is like brass—shiny, with just a few hints of gray—and the few wrinkles she has are thin filaments. Maybe all that clarifying is good for the skin, if not the psyche.
“It was god-awful, if you want to know the truth. Felt like you were going to pull my insides out. I don’t recommend childbirth.”
Not exactly comforting. And I realized we’d never discussed it before. Of course, we’ve never discussed lots of things before. What did I have to lose? “Did you breast-feed me?”
She snorted. “Are you kidding? A nurse talked me into trying it at the hospital. ‘Your baby needs colostrum,’ she insisted. I tried, but all it did was give me sore nipples and frustrate you. You sputtered and cried. Wailed. Finally she gave up and offered you formula. You were happy with that.”
“How long did you stay in the hospital?”
“Overnight. Why are you asking me all these questions?”
“Just curious. I mean, I guess because it’s my birthday, and . . .” I couldn’t figure out where to go from there, so I shoveled cereal into my mouth.
“It is, isn’t it? And look how gloomy it is outside. Just like the day you were born. Do you have plans?”
I almost got excited, thinking for once she might offer to spend quality time with me. Yeah, right. “Not really. Tati and I will probably chill.” I figured a guilt trip wouldn’t hurt, though. “Unless you’ve got something in mind.”
Guilt is not in Mom’s vocabulary. “I’ll be tied up at services most of the day. You should come. Birthdays are good days for audits. Lots of people tap into past lives.” The crazy rose up in her eyes.
“One life at a time, thanks.”
She got up and went to the hook by the door, reached into the purse hanging there. “Here’s ten dollars. Have a pizza with your friend. And happy birthday.”
I took the money and didn’t mention I was actually planning to hang out with my boyfriend. Tati’s still upset with me, though she has forwarded Jason’s messages as promised, and doesn’t sound quite as pissy. She has a hard time staying mad at me. Still, when she called to wish me a happy birthday, it was a nice surprise.
“I know you’re going to see Jason today, but I was hoping we could get together for a little while. I’ve got a present for you.”
“Of course!” Knowing she’d forgiven me, at least mostly, would’ve been enough of a gift, but it wasn’t all she gave me. She picked me up midmorning and we drove to a little park, which was mostly deserted. Late January, too cool for kids to swing or slide, there were only a few people walking their dogs, and I was happy for fewer distractions so we could finally talk.
We sat quietly for a few minutes before she asked, “You’re really pregnant?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“And you’re going to stay that way?”
“For six more months, give or take.”
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Totally.”
“Have you told your mom?”
“Not yet. I wanted to make sure . . .” I paused because I realized I still wasn’t sure. “Jason says everything will be okay, but I don’t know what that means yet.”