by Sheila Cole
Dear Grandpa,
This is a hard letter for me to write. I feel bad asking you for anything when you have every right to be ashamed of me. But I have nowhere else to turn. I’m desperate, Grandpa.
After the baby is born, can we come and stay with you? I know that you already have your hands full taking care of Grandma, but I could help you with that. We could help each other.
I know I’m asking a lot from you, Grandpa, but I beg you to say yes. Please. I need you to so badly.
Love,
Val
Friday, November 8
I told Stacy and Debbie about Peter today. They said they’d gone through the same thing. Stacy’s boyfriend hasn’t given her a cent for the baby. Her parents want her to take him to court for child support, but she says he just lies around his parents’ house and watches television all day and you can’t get blood from a turnip.
Stacy offered to take me to look at apartments on Sunday. I’m hoping I won’t need one. Still, I’d better find out how much they cost in case Grandpa says no. She said she’d take me to apply for welfare, too, but we should wait until right before the baby’s due for that.
I felt a lot better after I talked to them. I still have to tell Carrie and Dianne about Peter. I already know what they’ll say: “I told you so.”
Sunday, November 10
Went with Stacy to Santa Ana and Fountain Valley to look at apartments. There were these scary-looking men standing around the entrance at the first place we looked. I’d be afraid all the time if I lived there. The second one was filthy. The kitchen sink was stopped up, and there was garbage everywhere and awful-looking stains on the carpet. The third one looked like it hadn’t been painted since it was built, and you had to go through the bathroom to get to the kitchen. I couldn’t live there. But it doesn’t matter, since the landlord wouldn’t rent to me. When I went to talk to him, he looked me up and down and said, “I don’t rent to kids.”
Everything else we saw was even worse. I can’t believe what those places cost. When I got home, I did a budget and discovered that I don’t have enough money saved to live on even for a month. I don’t know what I’m going to do if Grandpa doesn’t say yes. I pray to God he does.
Monday, November 11
I told Mom I’d been looking at apartments, and she said what she always says when anything having to do with the baby comes up: “Valerie, why are you doing this? I can’t believe you really want to be on your own with a baby. You’re only a baby yourself.”
I said that they weren’t giving me any choice. She accused me of twisting her words and said, “We never said that you couldn’t come back here. We said you couldn’t bring the baby home for us to take care of.” I said it was the same thing. And she said she felt like she was watching me run across a freeway, and there was nothing she could do to save me. She looked like she was about to cry, and for a second I thought she’s going to, she’s going to give in and let me bring the baby home. She didn’t, though. She just shook her head and looked away.
I feel sick after every one of these discussions. I keep hoping that they’ll change their minds and say they’ll help me. But it doesn’t seem as if they ever will.
Carrie wants me to go shopping with her and Dianne today. The stores are having Veterans Day sales. I told her I didn’t think Dianne would want me to come with them, but Carrie said I was being paranoid. We almost got into another fight over it. A few minutes after she hung up, Dianne called. She said she was sorry she hadn’t invited me to her party. It was just that she didn’t think I’d want to be there with all the kids from Irvine. I was very cool about it. She kept begging me to come with them, so I finally gave in and said okay. I have to face the two of them sometime, and it might as well be today. Anyway, I need a couple of things.
Tuesday, November 12
I told Carrie and Dianne about Peter. They didn’t bawl me out. They didn’t even say we told you so or anything. They were very sympathetic, but I know what they think.
Shopping was so weird. We were in Kids “R” Us looking at clothes and things, and they kept holding up all these expensive little sleeper things and oohing over them as if they were playing dolls. When I said I couldn’t afford anything like that, they said, “Oh, but they’re so cute.” Then the two of them started whispering. The next thing I knew, they’d bought one for me. They could tell I wasn’t thrilled about it. I guess I should have been more grateful, but my back was hurting and I kept having to go to the bathroom and I just couldn’t take it anymore. Although I tried to make up for it on the way home, I think Carrie is still hurt.
Wednesday, November 13
The Haydn is beginning to sound like something. I never would have believed it, but it really is coming together. Even Bret said that with a little more work, it might actually sound good. It makes me believe in miracles.
Bret wants me to be a permanent member of the group. He says Robbie thinks I’m pretty good, too. Robbie never says anything to me though, so who knows what he really thinks. Bret is probably just saying it to make me feel better. I’ll miss him. I’ll miss all of them, even Gwen. I wish I could do the recital with them, but the performance is only a week before I’m due. Their second violinist will be back the first week in December.
Saturday, November 16
I thought Mom and Daddy were going out, so I told Stacy to bring Tyler over here this afternoon. She came just as they were leaving, and I couldn’t believe how rude they were to her. Daddy acted like she wasn’t there, while Mom didn’t even introduce herself or say hello or anything.
Tyler was a handful. We couldn’t take our eyes off him for a minute because he was crawling all over the living room. He got into everything, including the ashes in the fireplace and the electrical outlets. He put everything he found in his mouth. I was so exhausted by the time they left that I had to go and lie down, even though there were two of us watching him.
Afterward, all I could think about was how hard it is taking care of a baby. It made me really wonder, can I do it? Am I ready to be someone’s mother? Or am I just fooling myself? I better find out before the baby gets here. Because it’s one thing for me to wreck my own life, but I can’t wreck the baby’s life, too. That would be unforgivable.
Sunday, November 17
I dreamed my baby was born with this tiny, tiny red wrinkly body and this huge monster head. It kept crying and crying, and I couldn’t stop it. Then I was wide-awake, and Mom was sitting on the bed, saying, “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”
Mom said a lot of pregnant women worry that their baby isn’t normal, but that’s not it. Something isn’t right—I can feel it.
Monday, November 18
My Jewel,
I’m sorry to have to disappoint you, honey. You know I love you, but my first obligation is to your grandma, who is very, very sick. Even if Grandma were not so sick, I’m not sure that it would be a good idea for you to come here, dear.
There are times in life when we have to do things we don’t like because there isn’t anything else we can do. You should ask yourself if this isn’t one of those times.
Listen to your Grandpa John. Right now, it seems to you that your life is over and everybody is against you. I am an old man, and I know that life is long and there will always be other chances. I know you hate the idea of giving the baby away. But, to tell you the truth, honey, it doesn’t seem like such a terrible thing to me. Someday you will have a husband, and you will have other babies and you will be a good mother to them. But right now you are very young and in no position to take care of this baby.
You think your mommy and daddy don’t understand and are being mean and selfish. But they love you very much and want what is best for you and for your baby. They may not be expressing themselves right because things are hard for them, too. Hear them through. They want to help you. Maybe together you can find the answer.
Don’t be mad at me, honey. I love you and I am thinking of your future.
; Your Grandpa John
He wrote that! My grandpa who tells me he loves me! I was so sure he was going to say, “Come. Stay with us. You’re always welcome here.” He’s always telling me how much he loves me. “My Jewel,” he calls me. I feel just like he punched me in the stomach. I can’t believe he slammed the door in my face like that. I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to turn.
I read somewhere that you lose a lot of illusions when you grow up. I guess that’s what it is. I must be growing up. I used to trust everyone. Like an idiot, I believed what people said. Peter said he wanted to get married, and I believed him. I used to believe that Mom and Daddy were big and strong and would never let anything bad happen to me. But something bad did happen, and when they found out about it, they didn’t help. And Grandpa Horvath? He told me he loved me hundreds of times. And I thought he would do anything for me. But he won’t even let me and his first great-grandchild stay with them for a little while. I believed them all. I shouldn’t have. I was so dumb. I don’t know what I love you means anymore. They’re empty words.
Tuesday, November 19
Last night I had this weird, mixed-up dream about my baby. I was standing all by myself in a valley watching this lark, which was my baby, soaring higher and higher over the hills on wings of sound until I couldn’t see anything anymore because I was blinded by the sun.
When I woke up, I felt sad. So sad.
Wednesday, November 20
This girl came to talk to us at school today. She gave her baby up for adoption. Not that I think she was right to give her baby away, but I could understand how she must have felt. She was alone, just like me. Her boyfriend and her parents wouldn’t have anything to do with her or her baby. She didn’t have a job or any money. And she was really scared. What made me think it wasn’t so bad was that she didn’t just drop her baby and forget about it. She picked out the people to adopt her baby herself, and she got to know them. They were even with her in the delivery room when the baby was born. She goes to visit them and the baby.
Tiffany told the girl that if she had really loved her baby, she wouldn’t have given it up. The girl asked her, “What kind of love is it to keep a baby you can’t take care of or give a home to? That’s selfish.”
Is it selfish? I don’t know anymore. It’s your baby. Your responsibility. It’s wrong to give your baby away. But is it right to keep it if you can’t give it a home or take care of it?
Thursday, November 21
At lunch today, we were all talking about the girl who gave her baby away. Most of the girls said she gave it up because she wanted an easy way out. I ended up taking her side. I was shouting, “What makes you think it’s so easy? It’s your own flesh and blood. Of course you want to keep it. You’ve been carrying it for all these months, feeling it grow and kick. You want nothing more than to take it home and watch it grow up. That would be easy. That really would be easy. But maybe it’s impossible. Maybe that girl would have been on the street if she kept her baby. What kind of future is that to give a kid you love? If you love your baby, really love it, you can’t just think about what you want. You have to think about the baby and what’s best for it.” The other girls all disagreed with me.
Sunday, November 24
We were making the cranberry relish for Thanksgiving and Mom asked me if I thought that the baby was going to suffer. I had been telling her what the kids in the program said about the girl who gave her baby up for adoption. Then the telephone rang and I never had a chance to answer her, but I’ve been thinking about it ever since. I think the answer is yes, the baby will probably suffer either way—if I keep it or if I give it up for adoption. I don’t know any way to avoid it. But what I keep asking myself is: Which way will there be less suffering?
Friday, November 29
I told Mom I’m thinking about giving the baby away. She took me in her arms and held me, and I held her and we cried and cried. It felt good not to be fighting anymore.
Dear Peter,
I didn’t answer your last letter because I thought there was nothing more I had to say to you. But I was wrong. We are still linked, not by your golden chain, but by the baby we made in your room that day when we thought we loved each other.
I think I’m going to give the baby up for adoption. I believe that together you and I could have raised the baby, but I can’t do it alone. I am responsible for the baby’s being born, and the least I can do for it is to make sure it has loving parents and a good home.
For the adoption to be legal, you have to sign the papers giving up all claim to the baby.
Good-bye, Peter. I won’t be writing to you anymore. I thought I loved you. I thought you loved me. But when you love someone, you want to be with them forever, and you want to make them happy. Neither of us was up to that. Maybe it was because we were too young. All I know is that I’ll never feel the way I felt about you about anyone ever again.
Valerie
Monday, December 2
I have an appointment at an adoption agency on Wednesday. It is the same one the girl who spoke at school went to.
I guess I can always not show up if I change my mind. And I would cancel in a second if I thought I could make it on my own.
I didn’t know what to do with myself after I made the appointment, so I picked up my violin and started playing. I played The Lark Ascending over and over and over again.
Acknowledgments
In challenging me to understand how a young woman could decide to give her baby up for adoption, Jennifer Cole and Peg Griffin inspired me to write this book.
Although What Kind of Love? is a work of fiction, many of the situations described in the story are based on conversations with teenagers who have been pregnant as well as with teachers, social workers, and counselors who work with them. For their help in understanding what it is like to be young and pregnant, I am grateful to Betty Cannon, Ava Torre Bueno, the staff of Planned Parenthood of San Diego and Riverside Counties, Fawn Martinez, Sue Schudson, Dr. Sarah Beth Hufbauer, the young women at the Victoria Summit School in San Ysidro, California, and at Peninsula High School in San Bruno, California, and their teachers Linda Austin and Roberta McHue. Rosa Montes of the San Mateo County Department of Health Services, and Roy Risner, principal of Sunset High School in Encinitas, California, generously gave of their time. Sally Hufbauer was my gracious guide to the world of the young violinist.
Alice Schertle, Jonathan Cobb, Jean Ferris, Edie Gelles, Jill Norgren, Alyssa Cobb, Katie Schertle, and Susan Pearson read this book as it was taking form. Their comments, encouragement, and belief that it would make a good story kept me going through the writing and rewriting and contributed to its final form. Melanie Donovan, my editor, wrestled with my manuscript with insight, patience, and good nature. My husband, Michael Cole gave me the title and much, much more. The words thank you hardly seem adequate for all they have done.
Excerpt from “In Me, Past, Present, Future meet” from Collected Poems of Siegfried Sassoon. Copyright 1918, 1920 by E.P. Dutton. Copyright 1936, 1946, 1947, 1948 by Siegfried Sassoon. Used by permission of Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Books USA, Inc., and George Sassoon.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Originally published by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Books.
Copyright © 1995, 2013 by Sheila Cole
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3300-8
Distributed in 2016 by Open Road Distribution
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