by Sheila Cole
Mom said she didn’t think we were going to solve the problem right then. She had to think about it some more. She went into the kitchen, and I went to the bathroom to wash my face. When I came out, she was clearing away the dinner no one had touched. Daddy’s truck was gone, and Nick and Sandy had scattered. Run for cover.
Daddy came slamming in while I was washing the dishes. Mom said we had to talk. He said, “What is there to talk about? We should have done our talking to her a long time ago.” He poured himself some scotch and went into the living room. Mom followed him, and I finished the dishes and went back to my room. I could hear their voices but not what they were saying. I wanted to call Peter, but I was afraid his mother would answer. I just sat there on my bed, frozen.
At about ten o’clock, I heard Sandy and Nick come in. A few minutes later Sandy came into my room. For a minute, we just looked at each other without saying anything, and then I started crying because I knew she was going to tell me that it was dumb for me to let myself get pregnant. Instead, she came and put her arms around me and said, “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped.” She offered to sleep with me if it would make me feel better. I said it was okay, that she could sleep in her own bed. I didn’t think I would be able to sleep.
It was almost midnight when I heard Mom rush down the hall to their room and slam the door behind her. I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water. I was sitting at the table, and Daddy came in. He didn’t even look at me. He went to the cupboard to get the scotch bottle. Then he walked back into the living room, turned on the TV, and started switching channels. I came back in here about an hour ago. It’s almost three o’clock, and I can still hear him out there.
I wish I were dead.
Sunday, July 28
They were both waiting for me when I came into the kitchen. Mom said she’d called the nursery and told them I was sick, and then started in by telling me how much faith they’d had in me and how I’d disappointed them both. Then it was Daddy’s turn. “I used to listen to the guys at work tell me how rotten their kids were,” he said. “And I’d think, not me. Not me. I’m lucky. My kids are good. I was always telling them how wonderful you are. A violinist. A real talented kid. And now you’ve gone and gotten yourself pregnant and made a monkey out of me. I can’t look anyone in the face. I’m too ashamed. I don’t know how I’m going to tell your grandmother about this. She was so proud of you.” He looked like he was going to cry.
I tried to tell him I was sorry, but he didn’t want to hear. He said I was a little whore and asked me how many other guys I was doing it with. I got up to leave, but he shoved me back into the chair.
“I’m talking to you,” he yelled. “You’ve ruined your life, and you’re only fifteen.”
“It’s done, Dave,” Mom said. “She’s pregnant. Now we have to decide what to do about it.”
I told them Peter and I had already decided what to do. We loved each other and we were going to get married.
“You’re too young to get married,” Mom interrupted.
“You were young when you got married,” I reminded her.
“We were nineteen and twenty-one, not fifteen and seventeen,” Daddy shouted. “And we’re not talking about us—we’re talking about you, Valerie. I’m not giving you permission to get married to that rotten little son of a bitch. I could kill him for what he’s done to you. It’s bad enough without you throwing your life away and getting married to him.”
Then he went on about how they were trying to think of some way to salvage my life so I can finish high school, grow up and make something of myself. Salvage was the word he used. Like I was a wrecked car. He said if it wasn’t too late, I had to get an abortion. Otherwise, he’d have to send me away somewhere. They don’t understand. It’s not up to them. It’s up to me and Peter.
Peter called. I knew it was him because Mom slammed the receiver down without saying anything. I told her it was my phone call and she had no business hanging up on him. She turned her back on me.
Monday, July 29
I didn’t think Mom would let me go to work today, but she did. I was so glad to get out of that house. They hate me. I can see it in the way they look at each other when I come into the room. They don’t have to say anything. I should just run away. I have to talk to Peter. Maybe we’ll both run away.
The only person I’d miss in this family is Nick. Yesterday, when Mom and Daddy were treating me like dirt, he came into my room and asked me if I wanted to hear his new tape.
I asked him if he hated me for getting pregnant. He shook his head no. “Even if the other kids talk about me and tease you because of me?”
He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me. Then, with a perfectly straight face, he said, “I’ll belt anybody who opens his mouth,” and he put up his fists and socked me on the arm, softly, kidding around, and I socked him back in the chest. “You wanna fight about it?” he said, and suddenly he had me by the arm and I was on the floor and we were wrestling. It felt so good, so like things used to be. Afterward I picked up the violin and played for two hours straight.
Tuesday, July 30
They’ve talked to Mom’s gynecologist about my getting an abortion. He says he won’t do it because I’m too far along. So they have decided the only thing for me to do is give my baby up for adoption.
When they told me that, I blew up. “You’re telling me that I’m supposed to have this baby and then give it away? You’re crazy. If you think I’m going to do that, you’re crazy.”
“Are you really prepared to raise a baby by yourself?” Mom asked. Before I could answer, she continued, “You’d better get this straight, Valerie. We’re in no position to help you, and even if we had the money, we wouldn’t. It’d only help you ruin your life.” She went on and on about how smart and talented I am and what a wonderful future I could have if I wasn’t saddled with a baby. “You could get an education and finish school and you could play the violin.”
I couldn’t believe it. “You want me to give away my baby just so I can go to school and take violin lessons, which we can’t afford, anyway?” I shouted. I tried to tell them that they didn’t understand anything, that what Peter and I had was love. But they wouldn’t listen.
Mom said that love wouldn’t take me very far at the grocery store or with the landlord. “Get real,” she said. “You can’t raise a child by yourself, and there is no way Daddy and I are going to do it for you.”
Dr. Price told them that he could make all the arrangements. Wow! Isn’t that nice and convenient? All I have to do is be pregnant for the next five months and give birth, and then poof! We can all pretend it never happened.
Friday, August 2
I tried all day yesterday to get hold of Peter. I even left a message at the lifeguard station where he works. I was going crazy. I kept thinking, why didn’t he call? What happened to him? Then last night I couldn’t stand not knowing anymore. I waited until everyone was in bed, then slipped out of the house. I rode my bike over to Peter’s. It seemed as if it took forever, like I was pedaling my bike in slow motion. The lights were still on at his house when I got there. I sat on the curb a few doors away and waited. It was so quiet I could hear the cars on the freeway. I was shivering.
Finally the lights went out. I waited awhile to make sure everyone was asleep, and then tiptoed around the side of the house to Peter’s window. The window was partially open, but I couldn’t climb up to it. I was ready to turn around and go back home, when I decided to try the sliding glass doors to the patio. One of them opened, and I crept up the stairs to Peter’s room. In the dark, I could barely make out Peter lying facedown on the bed. I leaned over and kissed him on his neck and back and whispered in his ear. He shuddered and then rolled his head to one side and was awake, asking me what I was doing and hugging and kissing me all at the same time. “You’re crazy,” he kept saying over and over.
I was shivering so hard, I could hardly talk. He shushed me and pulled me do
wn onto the bed and pulled the covers over me. He ran his hand up and down my back until I was no longer shaking.
I knew he didn’t tell his mother. She found the receipt from Planned Parenthood in the pocket of his jeans when she was doing the laundry. Then she searched his room and found the receipt for the wedding ring. She confronted him when he came home from work. He tried to tell her some story about helping one of the guys he works with, but she didn’t believe him. He had to tell her the truth. He said she threw a fit and said all sorts of awful things. She made him promise he wouldn’t see me and threatened to throw him out if he did.
I told him what happened at my house, but I really didn’t feel like talking because his hand was inside my panties and I wanted to take them off.
We must have fallen asleep after we made love. It was just starting to get light out when I woke up. When I made a move to go, Peter pulled me back into bed. The next thing I knew, it was six-thirty! I could hear Mrs. Winder moving around downstairs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Winder standing at the stove with her back to me as I crept down the stairs. I slipped out the front door and pulled my bike out of the bushes. I was afraid someone would see me coming in. But nobody did. Everything was like it always is. Daddy’s truck was already gone, and Mom, Sandy, and Nick were still asleep. They never suspected I was gone.
Saturday, August 3
This morning Mrs. Ikura had me deadheading the flowers. It was hot, and bending over made me dizzy. I thought I was going to faint. As soon as I finished, I hid myself in the potting shed where it’s cool and made myself look real busy.
Carrie called when I was practicing The Lark this afternoon. I didn’t want to talk to her, but she said she knew something was the matter because she had called three times and Mom told her I couldn’t come to the phone. I was so mad, I ended up telling her everything: how Mom and Daddy don’t give a damn about me, how they wish I’d disappear so they won’t have to tell their friends, and that they’re going to send me away if they can. Daddy even said as much. When I told her my parents want me to give the baby away, she said, “It’s your own flesh and blood. You can’t do that,” and I thought she really understood. But then she couldn’t believe I got pregnant the first time we did it. When I told her that Peter and I are getting married, she started shrieking, “You’re going to get married? Married? You can’t be,” and I realized she didn’t understand at all.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because you’re only fifteen and Peter’s seventeen. No one gets married at fifteen,” she said. That made me mad, and I told her we were going to.
But even if she doesn’t really understand, I’m glad she’s back from vacation. She’s still my best friend.
Monday, August 5
Today was my day off and Mom took me to see Dr. Price. She was so uptight the whole way there that I almost told her to stop the car and let me out. But once I got inside with Dr. Price, it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t act like he was shocked, and he didn’t lecture me, except about my diet: He says I’ve got to eat more fruit, vegetables, and dairy products. He wants me to have an ultrasound so he can tell for sure how far along I am and whether the baby is developing normally. That was about it, except that I had another pelvic exam. Ugh!
Wednesday, August 7
I was in my room after dinner, when the doorbell rang. I heard Daddy say, “Carrie,” and I came tearing out of my room. I was out the door before he had a chance to say no.
It wasn’t until Carrie pulled away from the curb that I realized she was driving the car. I’d forgotten her birthday was last week. I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems, I hadn’t even sent her a birthday card! Carrie said it was okay. She was going to tell me when she called that she’d passed her driver’s test on the very first try, but when I told her what was happening to me she totally forgot.
We were so glad to see each other and talking so fast that I didn’t pay attention to where we were going until we pulled up in front of Tom’s house. I was so happy when I saw Peter’s car. I was squealing. But I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw him.
“What is it?” I asked.
“What it is,” Tom said, giving me this look, “is that Peter has to go live with his dad, and it’s our senior year.”
Peter said his mom was afraid we’d still see each other, so she’s making him live with his dad in Santa Barbara. But he’s not going. He said he loved me and he wasn’t going to let our parents keep us apart. He wants us to go to Las Vegas. His cousin Beth says you don’t need your parents’ permission to get married there.
We were just beginning to get excited about Las Vegas when Tom pointed out that we were going to need someplace to live because our parents would probably throw us out. Carrie offered to lend us the money so we could rent our own place. With the money Peter and I have saved from our jobs this summer, it should be enough.
I can’t believe it. It’s all happening so fast. Peter will look for a place for us to live this weekend. Then on Tuesday we’re off to Las Vegas to get married. I wish Tom and Carrie could come with us, but of course they can’t. They’d both get in trouble if they did, and besides, Tom has to work. I’m sorry they won’t be there with us—they are such good friends. I love them. I love Peter.
We’re really going to do it! I’m so excited. I keep thinking about what to wear, which is really dumb. I wonder if I can still get into the dress I wore to Susie’s wedding. I have to try it on.
Friday, August 9
Carrie’s having a party for us. Her parents are going to L.A. Monday and won’t be home until late. It’s sweet of her, although I’m afraid everyone will be freaked out by our getting married. I don’t know why I should care so much what other people think, but I do. I wonder whether we should tell them I’m pregnant or just say we’re getting married. I guess it would be dumb not to say anything about it. They’ll all know soon enough.
I wonder if people can tell yet. I’m not really sticking out very much. I just don’t have a waist in front anymore.
Sunday, August 11
Only thirty-eight hours to go, and we’ll be married. Peter stopped by the nursery today. He thinks he’s found an apartment! It’s over a garage and it’s tiny. There’s a backyard the owners might let us use, though. We’d have to take care of the yard, but that isn’t anything. I have my fingers crossed that they’ll let us have it.
We have it all planned. I’ve asked Mrs. Ikura if I can take Tuesday off. In the morning I’ll act like I’m going to work. I’ll ride my bike over to Carrie’s, and Peter will pick me up there. It takes about five hours to drive to Las Vegas from here. Carrie says there are big signs for wedding chapels all over the place, so it will be real easy to find one. We already have the ring, and Carrie’s buying the flowers. I packed the dress and shoes I’m going to wear at the wedding and hid them out in the garage.
Monday, August 12
Carrie called. She said Peter was trying to get hold of me last night, but the line was busy and then Mom answered and hung up on him. His mother is watching him like a hawk, so he called Tom and asked him to ask Carrie to keep trying till she got through to me. Peter’s father is back from vacation. He’s coming here!
Dear God, I’m afraid. Dr. Winder is a horrible man. Even Peter hates him, and he’s his father. He could kill Peter—he’s that kind of person. Please don’t let him come until after we’re gone.
I was a nervous wreck all day. Carrie said it was prenuptial jitters, which made me laugh because the way she said the word prenuptial made it sound like she was sneezing.
I better stop writing. It’s almost five-thirty, and I have to take a shower and get dressed before Carrie comes to pick me up. She says Dianne’s coming tonight and so is Mark Miller. Lily isn’t sure.
Everything’s off. Peter is on his way to Santa Barbara. He called me from a pay phone at a restaurant where they’d stopped, just as I was getting ready to leave. He told me not to worry. He’ll be b
ack soon, and he’s not going to let anything keep us apart. He loves me.
I hung up the phone and staggered over to a chair and sat down. I felt like I was being strangled. I couldn’t catch my breath. All at once everything had changed. One minute I was getting ready to go to a party with my friends to celebrate my wedding, and the next, Peter was gone and I didn’t know if I’d ever see him again. I wanted to cry, to scream. It wasn’t fair. It couldn’t be happening. Not when we had everything planned. And then Mom called from the living room that Carrie was here. I didn’t know what to do, so I went with Carrie. It was awful.
There were all of these things around reminding us that we were supposed to be having a party. The table was set with Mrs. Graham’s best dishes. There were the flowers and all of this food that none of us could eat. Carrie’s “wedding cake” with the bride and groom on top was sitting out on the kitchen counter.
I just couldn’t face everyone. I asked Carrie to take me back home.
Tuesday, August 13
I feel so empty and tired, but I can’t sleep. All I can think of is that we’d be on our way to Las Vegas now.
I took the wedding ring out of the envelope and put it on my finger. I keep thinking about what Peter said when he gave it to me. He said he didn’t need anyone’s permission to marry me. He was as married to me as he’ll ever be. Is this as married as we’ll ever be? I wonder.
Wednesday, August 14
Peter called this morning after Mom left for work. His father was so furious when he heard about us that he got in the car and drove straight here even though he’d just stepped off a plane. He came storming into Peter’s room at one o’clock Monday morning. He dragged Peter out of bed, yelling that he’d die before he’d give Peter permission to get married. Peter said he didn’t need anyone’s permission—he was getting married and no one could stop him. That was like waving a red flag at Dr. Winder. Peter’s brother and mother had to pull them apart to keep them from killing each other.