by Lori L. Otto
“Okay.” I climb out and go to the other side of the car, settling in to the passenger seat.
“Good, because we weren’t finished with our dialogue,” he says. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, and he smiles, showing me he’s just joking.
We say a brief hello to my parents when we get home, but explain that we have to finish memorizing our lines. We do a little of that in my room, but now we’re both distracted. I turn some music on, adjusting the volume to hide our conversation.
“Why don’t you just take it?” he asks. “It’ll all be over with. No more tears, no more worrying.”
“It’s wrong,” I tell him. “To me, it’s just wrong.”
“Have you thought about the consequences?”
“As much as I can in one day,” I mutter. “Hell, it’s only been seven hours. How has it only been seven hours?! It feels like a lifetime. How am I going to do this, Finn?”
“You’re not,” he says. “You have way too much ambition and talent to mess it up with a kid. What is with our family?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Is it a curse?”
“No,” he laughs. “Take the pill, Livvy. Just put this behind you. No one has to know. I will never tell a soul.”
“I don’t know that I could ever live with that decision.”
He pulls the box out of my purse and sets it in front of me. “Take it, Liv.”
“It’s a baby,” I plead.
“It’s not,” he argues. “What did we learn in health class?”
“It’s something,” I argue, not sure. “Cells, maybe?”
“Cells,” Finn says. “Take the pill.”
I stare at him and sigh. All my worrying would be over, just by swallowing one little pill. It’s so easy.
Should it really be that easy, to make a baby go away?
“I’m going to go get some water,” I tell him.
“Thatta girl.”
I ignore his encouragement. I’m truly just thirsty. “Want anything?”
“A soda.”
“Put the box away,” I say, kicking it under the bed when I get up. “My parents would flip if they saw that.”
There’s no soda in the downstairs refrigerator, so I have to pass my parents on my way to the kitchen.
“Livvy, sweetie,” Mom says. “Everything okay?”
“Fine, Mom,” I answer, avoiding both of their gazes. “Why?”
“Kaydra and Steven were worried about you.”
“It’s just stress,” I yell from the kitchen. “I didn’t want to have to deal with this stupid Romeo and Juliet thing, and I’ve had this headache all day.”
“How much longer do you think you have?”
“I don’t know,” I tell them honestly, going quickly back through the room toward the basement. “You know how bad Finn sucks at this sort of thing.”
“Don’t be mean,” my dad says. I give him a terse thumbs-up just before I round the corner to the stairs.
Finn hands me the box again as soon as I close the door. I stare at it, shaking my head. I don’t want to make this decision now. I don’t want to make it at all. “How’d this happen?” he asks.
“Let’s just study,” I tell him, having no intention of explaining what Jon and I did the day before. God, was it only yesterday?
We practice our lines back and forth. Finn starts the scene, and he still can’t get halfway through it without me telling him what to say. “Maybe if you said it with meaning, it would all make more sense to you.”
“I have no idea what I’m even saying,” he admits. “What if her eyes were there, they in her head?” he asks, quoting Shakespeare. “Where the hell else would her eyes be?”
I start laughing. “He’s talking about ‘two of the fairest stars in all the heaven’ being in her head, dummy.”
“How do you get that?” he says, pulling the text close to his face, as if drawing it nearer will make him understand it better.
“Read the next line.”
“The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars–”
A soft knock interrupts us. “Come in,” I say over the music.
“Can I?” Jon asks, barely peeking in through the cracked door. I put my book aside, standing up to give him a hug.
“What are you doing here?”
“Finn called,” he says. “Says you could use some comforting. I’m done with my lab.” I look at Finn and smile, a silent thank you. “Why does Romeo here get to be shut in your room?” he asks, eying Finn. “That doesn’t feel right.”
“Bygones,” Finn says. “We’re back to being family.”
“Good to know,” Jon mumbles. “Family who recites affirmations of love in the Ever-Elusive Bedroom of Olivia Holland.”
“I thought it was the death scene when I picked it.”
“Stick to soccer,” Jon says. Finn nods, making a face. He can’t be too offended, though. It is what he’s best at. It’s what’s sending him to college for free in Florida.
Jon looks down at me, touching his thumbs to my cheeks before kissing me.
“I should go,” Finn says.
“Not so fast,” I say. “As long as you’re here, Jon’s allowed to be here.”
“Olivia, this should be a private conversation,” Jon suggests.
“He knows enough already. You, just... focus on your lines,” I tell Finn. “Want some headphones?”
“I’m good,” Finn says.
“I’d rather talk, alone,” Jon whispers in my ear before kissing my temple. “Can we go out back or something?”
“Finn, I’ll be back in a little while. Just do me a favor and try to put meaning in the words, okay? I swear, it will come a lot more naturally if you have some idea of what you’re saying.”
“What shall I swear by?” Jon says, opening the door for me as he recites some of Romeo’s later lines. My grin grows quickly.
“Do not swear at all,” I say back, leading the way through the basement and up the stairs. “Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I’ll believe thee.”
“You’re getting an A on this tomorrow,” Jon says.
“You forget my partner is a true Shakespearean fool. Hey,” I address my parents, walking back through the living room, “is it okay if we go in the backyard for a little bit?”
“That’s fine. Just remember that a good night’s sleep would be good for your headache,” Dad says.
“Yes, sir.”
“You have a headache?” Jon asks when we get outside. He starts to sit on a patio chair, but I take his hand and lead him further out into the yard to the swing, as far from the house as we can get.
“No. Jon, I threw up. I’ve been feeling sick to my stomach since lunch.”
“It’s nerves,” he says, putting his arm around me.
“What if it’s not?” I ask him.
“What do you think it is?” he asks.
I’m afraid to say it out loud, as if letting the words come out will somehow make it true.
“What?” he repeats.
“You know,” I whisper.
He starts laughing. “Morning sickness? Oh, baby–”
“Don’t say that word right now.”
“Right,” he continues to chuckle as he talks. “That’s not possible. You really are getting too worked up over this. It’s a widely accepted belief that morning sickness develops when a pregnant woman’s body accumulates toxins that may harm a fetus. She gets sick to rid her body of those toxins. It’s her body’s way of protecting the baby. To have morning sickness, there would have to be a fetus. And Liv?”
“What?” I say, wondering if he has any idea what he’s talking about.
“It has barely been twenty-four hours,” he says, looking at me like I’m crazy. “It takes weeks and weeks for an embryo to become a fetus.”
“Don’t laugh at me,” I plead. “This is serious.”
“I know,” he says warmly, holding my hand. “I just di
dn’t realize you were this paranoid.”
“I’m scared.”
“Okay. Of what?”
“What do you mean, of what? Of being pregnant?”
“So you don’t want that...”
“No!” I exclaim. “Of course I don’t want that.”
“Then take the pill, Olivia. That one little pill will make this all go away. You don’t want to be pregnant. You probably aren’t anyway. I mean, the chances of it happening are infinitesimal. It would be near-miraculous–”
“Well, you know miracle babies run in my family,” I remind him sarcastically.
“Yes, but if you’re suggesting it’s genetic, Olivia, you don’t share their genes. Remember?”
“I know. But what if I was a miracle baby? I don’t know anything about–”
“Are you just going to play devil’s advocate on this? Argue with every rational point I bring up with something completely irrational?”
“Hey,” I tell him, my tone one of warning. “You know, it would just be my luck.”
“No, it would be the distinct opposite of your luck.” He looks down at me and leans in to kiss me. “If you’re that worried–and again, I don’t think you need to be–just take the Plan B. It will eliminate any questions you have.”
“Eliminate is such an ugly word,” I tell him, cringing. “And it shouldn’t be that easy to get rid of a mistake we made,” I whisper. “It’s irresponsible, what we did.”
“Livvy, we thought we were being responsible. And shit, we have been,” he says with mild frustration. “That’s why I checked with you first. We got caught up in the moment. That’s all that happened. We had the best intentions, under the circumstances.”
“We probably shouldn’t find ourselves in those circumstances again.” My voice is soft when I say it. I know how much he enjoyed what we did. I know how close it made us feel. I hate to take that away from us, but especially from him. I await his argument.
“We won’t,” he says. “I promise, I won’t ask you again until... if and when we decide that we want to make that kind of commitment to one another–and I’m not suggesting I want to or anything like that,” he amends quickly.
I put my hand over my stomach, feeling a slight flutter. This feeling is different from all the other ones I’ve felt today. It’s as if the thought comforts me. He places his hand on top of mine, and we both stare into one another’s eyes. A smile grows across my lips.
“Not yet.” His eyes are intense when he says it. Even though he doesn’t mention the words, I know he means that he does want to make that commitment, someday, to me.
“I don’t ever want to have this conversation again,” I tell him. “I don’t ever want to have to be faced with this choice, or with that pill, ever again. The thought of eliminating any part of you, or me, or of us...” I can’t talk anymore, the lump in my throat forming so quickly it catches me off-guard.
“Come here,” he whispers softly, shifting his body to face mine and pulling me into a hug. He clears his throat. “I wish I could give you peace of mind without that pill, but I can’t. But this pill isn’t an abortion, Liv. This pill prevents you from having to have one, should you be pregnant and should you decide you don’t want to be. I’m not sure that even the most right-wing-fanatical person would say that what may or may not be inside of you is a fetus. It can take, like, five days after sex for conception. Did you know that?”
“No,” I choke out. “And how soon can it happen?” I ask, feeling hopeful. If it takes that long to conceive, then I can accept that this isn’t a baby yet.
“Well, it can be pretty soon after. Thirty minutes or so, but Olivia?” He pushes me away to see into my eyes. “Conditions have to be perfect for that. Are you beginning to see how improbable this is?”
“So it could already be growing inside of me,” I mutter.
“Take the pill, Livvy. Maybe I haven’t convinced you, but I’ve convinced myself that there’s no way this could happen. You wouldn’t be killing anything inside of you,” he says quickly, his voice animated. “You’d just be getting rid of your worry. That’s it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“One-hundred percent sure?”
“Nothing’s one-hundred percent. I could draw you diagrams or–”
“Stop making jokes!” I scoot over about a foot on the bench.
“I’m not! All right, I’m ninety-five percent certain. That’s as good as it gets.”
“So you say there’s a five percent chance I’m pregnant with our baby.”
“God, Liv,” he says with a burst of air, as if he’s just had the wind knocked out of him. “Don’t say it like that.”
“It’s what it is.”
“It’s not. Two percent chance, then. Is that better?”
“None of this is better, or good, or anything like that.”
“I am so sorry I’ve put you in this position, baby.”
“Stop callin–”
“I’m sorry. Olivia,” he says, getting off of the bench and kneeling down in front of me, “I am so sorry. What can I do?”
“Accept whatever decision I make.”
“I already told you I would. That’s a given. I love you. You are the most important thing in the world to me,” he says as his hand rubs my outer thigh. “And in three weeks, when we find out you’re not pregnant–” He puts his finger over my mouth before I have a chance to argue. “I will feel the exact same.”
I move his hand away. “If I am, would you marry me?”
“If you wanted that, yes. But we wouldn’t have to get married. I’d be there with you regardless. I’d be there for...” He sighs and then swallows. “For our baby.” His gaze turns distant as he looks over my shoulder. “A baby,” he repeats, as if it’s just dawned on him what we’ve been talking about.
“See?”
“It’s not a... it’s not that,” he repeats, trying to sound casual again. “It’s not.”
“We can’t be sure.”
“We can with the pill,” he suggests once more.
“What would you do?” When I’d asked him the same question earlier in the day, he said he wouldn’t take it, but I sense his answer has changed.
“If it will ease your mind, I’d take it.”
“Two-percent chance?” I ask him.
“I still think even that’s high. But I understand that even one-percent means it could happen. I know that’s what’s keeping you from making this decision.” He wipes away the remnants of my tears. “You know what you’re going to do?”
“I’ll take it.” My voice is barely audible. “It’s not the right time for this.”
“Okay.” He sounds a little relieved. “Want to do it now?”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll do it before bed. I have a feeling I’ll cry, and I don’t want to raise suspicions with my parents. Plus, Finn’s still here,” I say with a quiet laugh, standing up, taking Jon’s hand and walking back toward the house. “Wonder if he’s had enough time to figure out his lines yet.”
“Doubtful,” Jon says. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks.” We kiss once more before going through the back door.
“Call me later?” he asks.
“Okay. Thanks for coming.” My parents are both in Trey’s room, trying to get him settled into bed.
“Tell your mom and dad I said goodbye. And thank Finn for me, okay? For calling me?”
“I will.”
He hugs me tightly, rubbing my back. “You’ll be fine. You can do this.”
I don’t think I can. I smile as I show him out and close the door.
Before bed, I make the only choice I know I can live with. After crushing the pill box, I shove it haphazardly in a plastic grocery sack and bury it in the garbage can in the garage. I put my future in Jon’s hands yesterday, and it felt right. I trust him–and his instincts–today. I always will.
Hopefully, he’ll never even have to know I couldn’t go through wi
th it.
CHAPTER 23
Weeks go by before I’m convinced that I’m not pregnant, and when I finally accept it, I’m in a better mood than I’ve been in since Spring Break. I take my time getting ready for dinner on Wednesday, excited to see Jon.
When the doorbell rings, I rush out of the bathroom and up the stairs to be the first one to the door. Trey, of course, beats me there, but he knows he’s not allowed to answer it without an adult. He’s wearing his mitt on his left hand, ready to play. His right hand is poised on the knob, confident that Jon’s on the other side of the door.
“Trey, no catch tonight,” I tell him quickly, moving his hand from the knob and opening it myself.
“Why?” he whines.
“Because I said so.” I kiss Jon quickly, surprising him with my sudden affection. My brother erupts into a squealing fit behind us.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” Jon asks Trey after breaking away from me.
“Livvy said you weren’t going to play catch tonight,” he sobs. Jon looks at me, confused.
“I haven’t seen you in almost a week,” I plead.
“Not even a few minutes?” he asks me softly. He could have yelled it, and the sound of his voice wouldn’t carry over Trey’s crying. “You can play with us.”
I grimace, pursing my lips and choosing not to answer. He steps past me into the house, walking confidently into the kitchen where my dad is cooking dinner while Mom consoles my brother. I shut the door quietly, but snap back into my good mood immediately, catching up to him.
“Jon’s here for Livvy, Trey,” my mother says to him, kneeling on the floor in front of him and wiping tears away with a paper towel.
“But he... he...” he sniffles.
“I’m gonna play with you, Trey,” Jon says. “Just after dinner, we’ll go out back for a bit. Don’t worry. Livvy can share me.” He raises his eyebrows, as if asking my permission.
“Fine,” I say.
“He’ll only play if you stop crying, though, Jackson,” my father warns him. “He doesn’t play with babies,” he says.
“Jacks,” Mom says with a sigh.
“You can’t keep coddling him like this, Poppet,” he says. “The boy needs to learn that he won’t always get his way by throwing a fit.”