by Alice Carina
"Sleeping," she chuckled bitterly to herself. "I don't sleep anymore, Katie. Not since you ran away and I spent nights and days looking everywhere for you, not since you were taken to the hospital and I spent nights and days just looking at you, not since you came back home and I'm terrified every night that you're going to run away again and I'm never going to see you again or that something bad is going to happen to you."
And then, the most painful thing happened; my mother started crying. My mom whose laughter had always filled the house before and who persisted in half-smiles even after I came back home pregnant with unlimited possibilities for a father, broke down crying.
"I'm scared," she sobbed, and I wished I'd never made it back home from the streets just so that I never would've heard her sob. "I'm scared to talk to you because I'm scared it'll make you run away again and it'll be my fault. Do you have any idea what it felt like when I went into your room and found a letter that you were gone? Do you have any idea what it felt like last night when I went to check on you like I do every night and didn't find you there?"
"I'm so sorry," I rushed over to my mom and hugged her. I accidently knocked over her cup while trying to hold her and it shattered on the floor, but neither of us paid any attention to it as we both half-sat half-stood in the kitchen, holding each other and crying.
My tears and sobs got lost in hers, and I couldn't tell whose body was shaking the other's. We stayed like that for a long time, letting the months of anger and confusion and hesitancy and frustration and agitation come out simultaneously, once and for all.
Our sobs eventually subdued, and I pushed away from my mother to straighten my aching back. I thought that she was just going to send me to my room or leave the kitchen and pretend nothing had happened, but instead she sent me to the living room and told me she'd be right with me once she washed her face.
I sat on the couch, a little dizzy and disconcertedly overwhelmed with what had happened.
My mom soon walked into the room after me, looking tired yet somehow relaxed at the same time.
"Can we talk, Katie? Really talk?"
"That's all I've ever wanted," I smiled back at her, then I told her everything.
I told her about the party Josslyn and I had snuck out to, and I told her about this one random guy who approached me and told me that I looked pretty and how I'd wanted to feel pretty, too. I couldn't tell her it was a friend's temporarily ex because she knew my only friends were Chelsea and my own sister and might've guessed who it really was.
I hadn't told Chad the guy's name at first, either, because I was worried he would've judged me even more, and that had led to so much anger and confusion when I finally did, but that wasn't the reason I kept the name from my mother. I was worried that she would demand things of him that I didn't really want.
I knew Kyle; I knew that he didn't want anything to do with me, especially not a living human being tying us together forever. I knew that he couldn't handle the responsibility, that he wasn't going to love our daughter, that he was actually going to hate and resent her if he knew about her and hate and resent me for keeping her. My baby didn't deserve that, and I was recently beginning to see that I didn't deserve that, either.
He was so irresponsible he never even suspected his responsibility, so selfish that he lied to the love of his life to extend her love only as long as his lie could go, so careless that he'd just wanted to forget that entire night without ever addressing it, so shallow that he regarded his reputation above everything, so mean that he mocked me for what he'd done to me.
I used to think that he had a right to know, but each time I approached him and he pushed me away, I suspected that a part of him did know but didn't want to truly know or maybe he really didn't know and, given the choice, wouldn't want to. I realized that my daughter had a right to be loved and I had a right to be respected and therefore decided that he had a right not to know.
I needed compassion, companionship, care, trust, respect, devotion, support, maybe even some humor and fun to remind that I was still young and allowed to be young. He couldn't give me any of that even if he was forced to acknowledge me, and I didn't want to just be acknowledged.
My baby needed care, dedication, sympathy, attention, and so much love. He couldn't give her anything, either.
We were both better off without him. He didn't want us, and we didn't need him.
But my mother would've seen it differently. She would've instantly contacted his parents and forced him to be a part of something that nobody involved wanted him to be.
Kyle and I had made a mistake, and while we both didn't deserve to have our normal lives end over it, I made the conscious decision to love my daughter and live for her. His mind, which was programmed on popularity and games and recklessness, wouldn't have seen her in the same light. It might not have been his fault, but it wasn't my daughter's either to have such a father. I could love our daughter enough for the both of us. There was no need for any pain to come over him, or over my sister, or over my mother, or over my daughter. I would take the pain and spare them all so long as I did what was right by myself and by my baby.
I told her that the guy didn't even want to talk about what had happened, and how I thought I could keep my pregnancy a secret from him and everybody else until Josslyn and Chelsea found out. I told her how I couldn't imagine disappointing her and dad like that and chose to take my chances on the streets. I didn't go into detail with what had happened there; my mother already looked so distressed at the thought of the guy not falling madly in love with me that I knew telling her the whole truth would've driven her to more tears than before and she'd never sleep again. So, I gave her the same summary I'd once given the police; that I stayed on my own sleeping in dark alleys and had slipped on a rainy night which led to my discovery.
I then told her about school and how mean and cruel everybody was, everybody except Chad.
"I think I remember him," my mom mused. "Is he the boy you brought over a couple of times for some school project?"
"Yeah,"
"He's cute," she nudged me and I couldn't stop blushing as I told her all about him; how nice he was, how nice he'd always been, how he got Emmet – my mom made a disgusted face when I brought him up – to stop bullying me, how he sat with me in the restroom until he made me feel safe to eat in front of others again, when he took me to see dolphins to cheer me up.
I told her that we'd had a fight, and, to keep her from asking about the details of the fight which would bring Kyle into view, I quickly skipped into last night when he'd come to apologize even though he'd done nothing wrong and confessed that he liked me.
My mother squealed, she actually squealed.
I thought that she would've been upset or thought it inappropriate that I was into someone other than my baby's father, but she said that she just wanted me to be happy, and that she remembered how tough it was being pregnant and everybody expecting you to act like you were dead.
Mom and I were quietly preparing breakfast when I faintly heard my phone ringing up in my room. I struggled for a couple of seconds to calm my breath after I'd run up the stairs, but my voice still came out squeaky and breathless, making him wonder if he'd woken me up.
While I couldn't stop thinking about our kiss, I couldn't imagine talking about it, not with him, the mere thought had me blushing and stuttering, so when I worried that the conversation was veering towards the night before, I quickly told him that my mom had finally talked to me.
Of all the pains and changes I complained to him about, my relationship with my mother was what stung the most and I mentioned its loss nearly every day, so he couldn't believe it either. I told him that she'd seen us kissing – I only mentioned the word once and quickly moved on to telling him what she'd said and how we'd spent the past hours just talking. He listened intently, interjecting questions and sounds that mirrored my own disbelief and happiness.
"Wow," he breathed for the umpteenth time.
"Th
ank you,"
"What for?" He sounded surprised.
For calling me, for letting me share this with you, for kissing me and giving my mother a reason to talk to me, for being just as happy as I am even though your mom never stopped talking to you, for being you.
"For everything, I guess." I smiled to myself. "I don't think I would've been able to open up to her today had you not let me open up to you before. The first time I talked about all of this I was a sobbing mess, but you made it so much easier to recall everything now, it was like telling her somebody else's story. I didn't cry once, because I'd already gotten it all out with you, so I was able to focus on her and her reactions and our relationship. I never would've been able to move on from all that had happened enough for it to stop affecting me if it wasn't for you."
"You didn't need me for that," his voice was low, full of surprise and denial. "You knew as well as I did that you didn't deserve anything that had happened to you. You moved on from it because you're so strong, you're the strongest person I know."
"No, I'm not,"
"You were strong enough to accept the consequences of two on your own, you were strong enough to run away, and even stronger to come back and face everyone, you're strong enough to go to school every day and ignore everyone no matter what they say."
"I can only act strong when you're around," I never would've been able to walk back into the cafeteria on my own, or to walk in the middle of the hallway without sliding against the walls and the lockers in fear had it not been for him.
"You were strong enough to talk to your mother without me today," he reminded me, trying to convince me that I was strong on my own.
"I was thinking of you," I confessed, trying to convince him how important he was to me.
"Katie! Breakfast's ready!" My mom called out to me loud enough for Chad to hear her. He quickly started apologizing for not knowing that he'd interrupted our talk or that I hadn't had breakfast yet and insisted that I spend the whole day uninterrupted with my mother and that he would just see me in school.
"What took you so long?" Mom asked me when I made it down stairs quickly under his instructions. I just motioned to my phone in my hand. "Chad?" She asked me with a knowing smile.
"Yeah," I couldn't help my smile, "he said that you probably want to spend the day together?" I half-told half-asked her, hesitantly hoping.
"Cute and smart," she beamed, "you got yourself a keeper."
My mom and I spent the rest of the day talking. I voiced all my pregnancy fears and she listened to them with the compassion of someone who'd experienced them first hand. While she didn't lie to me and tell me that it didn't hurt that much because I was going to figure out that it actually hurt beyond any expectations soon enough, she did promise me that it would all be worth it.
"The moment they put your baby on your chest..." Her eyes glistened with memories. "My God, Katie, I can't even describe it. When you see that little girl, a part of you that is going to grow up and be her own and still always be the best part of you... When you see her eyes and smile, they'll be the most beautiful things you've ever seen, and you did that; you brought the most beautiful thing in the world into the world. It'll be worth every pain you've ever been through and every pain you ever might, and you'll know you'd do it a million times over just to see her for the first time again."
When Josslyn went out to her Lunch with Kyle, my mom and I ordered takeout and spent the entire day cuddling on the couch while flipping through the TV and talking over it.
Dad finally came back home, a little later than he'd been expected. He paused at the entrance into the living room and blinked several times, surprised to find me and mom sitting in there laughing together. I made to leave under his stare, but mom pressed her hand to my thigh, keeping me in place. Dad eventually shrugged and said that he was going to go upstairs to bed. When mom reminded him of our birthday dinner, he simply said that he was too tired to go out while halfway up the stairs.
Josslyn came back home for dinner and suggested that we go out without dad. While a part of me liked that, I didn't want anybody to look strangely at me and with judgment at my mother, I wanted to prolong her happiness and comfort with me for as long as I could, so I pretended that I wasn't in the mood and we ordered pizza. My pregnancy cravings were set against it, but I tolerated it for them, I would've tolerated anything for them.
"You're developing quite an appetite," mom commented when Josslyn reached out for a forth slice when normally she would've dropped her second in the name of thinness. "You're not pregnant too, are you?" Mom joked, but for a moment my heart dropped.
"No," Josslyn rolled her eyes, "but having a pregnant sister is so awesome; no matter how much I eat, I'll always look thin next to her." She laughed.
"I wonder if you'll find my weight so funny when I'm sitting on you," I fake-glared at her until we both started laughing.
"So, what did Kyle get you at exactly twelve o'clock?" Mom asked exaggeratedly.
"This," Josslyn smiled as she touched a necklace on her neck.
"K?" Mom questioned the pendent.
"It stands for Kyle," her smile deepened.
"Or Katie," I teased.
"Or Kareen," mom winked.
Josslyn rolled her eyes and turned on the TV. She found an old show we used to watch when we were kids; "Guess we better get used to those, huh?"
I sat with my mother and sister laughing and watching cartoons for hours, until mom remembered that it was a school night and ushered us to bed. It was the best girls' night we'd ever had. I wondered if we'd still have them with my baby, although I wouldn't mind them being family's night and having dad on the couch behind me...
The next day, I woke up with a smile. Everything seemed to be turning around in my favor. I had my mom back, I had Chad who I'd always had but never like that, and I felt like I'd gotten myself back, the normal me, just Katie, not the girl who got pregnant by her sister's boyfriend.
I went to school and the moment I saw Chad, I knew that there was something different in me. I was used to silently crushing on him as someone I could never have, then I was ashamed to even look at him because he was someone I'd lost without even having, then I learned to lean on him for support and courage, but now... I felt something different, something new, and he looked different, somehow new...
And for the first time in years, I could actually see us together. I hadn't been able to see us that clearly before, not when he first asked me out, not when he later asked for my number and we became friends, not when we worked on so many projects together, but right after he kissed me and every second since, I couldn't see anything else.
I wasn't going to be pregnant forever; I wouldn't always be pregnant with somebody else's baby. I would soon go back to being myself physically just as easily as he'd brought me back to myself emotionally. I wouldn't always be the pregnant girl, I would be just a girl, I could be his girl.
I could see us dating, getting to know each other better, having fun, holding hands, kissing, falling in love. I could see it so clearly the vision alone was what motivated me to go to school to see him every day, but the days dragged on and he didn't say anything.
He still smiled at me every time he met my eyes and was as nice as ever, opening doors for me and insisting on carrying my books, he might've sat a bit nearer to me during Lunch or walked closer to me down the hall, but he didn't say anything.
He never mentioned our kiss or the date we'd agreed to go on to figure it out, and I didn't want to be the one to bring it up incase he'd changed his mind, or mostly because I was too embarrassed to. He never tried to reach for my hand or to kiss me again and, as the days dragged on, I began to doubt if it had ever happened, but every morning I woke up with its memory and possibilities swirling in my head.
I didn't know if it was because it was the point from which everything started turning up or because it had been something I'd been wishing for for years, but I couldn't stop thinking about it.
; On one particular day, he insisted on driving me home. We were alone in his car for several minutes, and he was as friendly and cheery and chatty as ever. He had the perfect chance to take me on our promised date or to at least mention it, reach out for my hand, kiss me, but he didn't do anything. He just drove me home and wished me a nice day.
I sat on my bed that afternoon and tried to replay what had happened that night, wondering if maybe my hormones had run too far with my imagination.
He was the one who'd come over and called me to meet him, I didn't ask him to come. In fact, I'd insisted on us never talking again. He was the one who brought me flowers and apologized, he was the one who reminded me of who I still was, he was the one who saw me for who he'd always seen me, he was the one who confessed his feelings, and he was the one who kissed me.
Why would he have come over and done all of that if he never wanted to speak of or refer to it again?
And then, it hit me.
He'd come over to apologize and wish me a happy birthday like he was used to every year and remind me of who I still was to him – the same friend I'd always been.
He hadn't come over to kiss me. He'd come to mend our friendship thinking that I was mad at him and I surprised him by my own self-loathing that he seemed to feel the need to talk – or kiss – me out of.
The kiss hadn't been planned, and maybe it hadn't been meant, but everything before it surely was. Maybe he did still see me the same and like me for who I truly was but didn't want to further complicate a severely complicated situation. Maybe he'd meant his feelings for me, but thought better of their impropriety in my condition.
"Katie? Are you okay?" Mom asked as she walked into my room after I'd rushed in without a word.
"Yeah, I'm good," I tried to fake a smile, quickly wiping away my tears.
"Sweetie, what's wrong?"
There was no point denying it. I'd grown so used to letting things out with Chad that I couldn't seem to hold anything in anymore. If I couldn't talk about this with him, I was glad that at least he'd opened the door for me to talk about it with the only person who knew about him.