The Sometimes Daughter

by Sherri Wood Emmons

  “I don’t know. Last time she came she stayed at the Ramada Inn. We swam in the pool.”

  I remembered the way she looked in her swimsuit, her pregnant belly bulging against the nylon fabric. We had talked that night for the first time, really, about things that mattered.

  “I liked her then,” I said softly. “She seemed really happy with Navid.”

  “Do you ever hear from him?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He sends me a birthday card every year, and one at Christmas. And he sends pictures of Kamran sometimes.”

  “That’s nice,” she said. “Why did your mom leave him? He sounds like a nice guy.”

  “She leaves,” I said. “That’s just what she does.”

  “But ... I wonder why she’s like that,” Lee Ann said. “What made her that way?”

  I shrugged. I’d wondered that a lot. Her own mother was pretty awful, that was clear. But it wasn’t an excuse for her to keep leaving husbands and children.

  “Do you think she’s going to stay in Indy now?” Lee Ann asked.

  “I doubt it,” I said. “I hope not.”

  46

  Lee Ann dialed the number we’d looked up in the phone book, then handed me the receiver. It was three days after New Year’s Eve. I was three weeks pregnant.

  “Community Women’s Clinic,” said a voice.

  “Hi,” I said. “I, um, that is ...”

  “Okay,” the woman’s voice was gentle. “Let me give you the information. You have to be between six and twelve weeks pregnant. The cost is three hundred dollars. If you’re under eighteen, a parent needs to come with you. Have you had your pregnancy confirmed by a doctor?”

  “No,” I said. “I did a home pregnancy test.”

  “Well, you have to see a doctor before I can make an appointment. Do you have a doctor?”

  I did have a doctor, the pediatrician I’d seen my entire life.

  “No,” I said.

  “Okay, you can make an appointment with Planned Parenthood. Do you need the number?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I dug a pen out of my purse and wrote down the number she gave me.

  “Once you’ve had the pregnancy confirmed, call back and we’ll send you some information and make your appointment.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I hung up.

  “What did they say?” Lee Ann was watching me closely.

  “I have to go to a doctor to get a pregnancy test before they can make the appointment.”

  “Dr. Beyer?”

  “God, no! She gave me the number for Planned Parenthood.”

  “Okay, let’s call them,” she said. “The sooner you do this, the sooner you can get the whole thing over with.”

  “She said I have to have a parent come with me.”

  “Oh.” She stopped dialing and hung up the phone. “Oh,” she said again.

  In three days, Daddy and Treva would be back from their honeymoon. I’d kind of hoped I could just call and get the abortion before they got back.

  “What are you going to do?” Lee Ann asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  We sat there a few minutes, waiting for a great idea to appear. But, of course, it didn’t.

  “Let’s go feed Rufus,” she said, pulling me up from the floor where I was sitting.

  We’d been making several trips a day to my house to feed the dog and let him out. He couldn’t stay with us at Lee Ann’s because Mr. Dawson was allergic to dogs.

  The cold air felt good on my cheeks as we walked to the house. It felt like it might snow.

  A car was parked in our driveway, one I didn’t recognize.

  “Whose car is that?” Lee Ann asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  We stopped walking.

  “Do you think it’s your mom?”

  “I don’t know,” I repeated.

  “We’d better go home,” she said, taking my hand.

  “Yeah,” I said. As we turned to walk back to Lee Ann’s, I heard her familiar voice, calling to me.

  “Sweet Judy, hey, stop.”

  Lee Ann took my hand and pulled me along as she walked faster.

  “Judy!” Mama called again. I turned to see her walking toward us.

  “Come on,” Lee Ann said, pulling my arm now. “What are you doing?”

  I had stopped and turned to face Mama. Lee Ann stood beside me, still holding my hand.

  “Oh, honey,” Mama said as she pulled me into a tight embrace. “Oh, God, I have missed you so much.”

  I stood rigid, my arms at my sides.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “I just want to see you,” she said, still holding me tight. “I had to see you, to talk to you. Oh, baby, you just don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”

  I pulled away from her and took a step back. She smiled at me and reached her hand out to touch my hair.

  “Look how beautiful you’ve become,” she said. “God, you’re so pretty.”

  She was thinner than I remembered. Her cheekbones stood out sharply against her sunken cheeks. Her once beautiful blond hair hung stringy and dull. Maybe she was sick, or even dying, and that’s why she wanted to see me.

  “Can we just talk?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Please?” she said, reaching for my hand.

  “Go to hell!” I shouted, jerking my hand away. I turned and started running as fast as I could down the street toward Lee Ann’s house. Lee Ann ran behind me.

  “Judy!” Mama called after me. “Please come back.”

  We didn’t stop running until we reached the house. Lee Ann locked the door behind us. I dropped onto the couch, breathing heavily.

  “Lee Ann?” Mrs. Dawson called from the kitchen. “Are you back already?”

  She walked into the living room and stopped short when she saw me.

  “Was your mother there?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  She sat down on the couch beside me and pulled me into a hug.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re safe here. Lee Ann, call your father, please, and tell him we need him to come home.”

  Lee Ann went into the kitchen to make the call. Mrs. Dawson held me and crooned, “It’s okay now. You’re okay.”

  “I want my dad,” I said.

  “Okay, I’ll call him when Lee Ann is off the phone.”

  Daddy had left the number of the lodge at the state park. Mrs. Dawson left a message for him. Half an hour later, he called us back. Mrs. Dawson talked to him for a few minutes, then handed me the phone.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. But my voice shook.

  “We’re on our way home,” he said. “Stay at Lee Ann’s house, don’t leave the house. We’ll be home in a couple hours.”

  “Okay.”

  “Judy,” he said, “it’s going to be all right. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  We listened to music on Lee Ann’s tape player. Downstairs, Mr. Dawson sat in the living room, watching out the window. I felt better knowing he was there.

  “She looked sick, didn’t she?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she did,” Lee Ann said.

  “Do you think she’s dying or something?”

  Her eyes widened. “Maybe that’s why she came.”

  We listened to Tears for Fears singing “Mad World.” That’s exactly how I felt, like it was a screwed-up, mad world.

  When Daddy arrived, I ran downstairs and into his arms and started crying. I cried until I felt like I might throw up. He patted my back and held me until I had stopped.

  “Where’s Treva?” I asked finally, looking past him.

  “She’s at the house,” he said. “She thought you might need some time.”

  “I’m sorry I ruined your honeymoon.”

  He smiled. “It’s not your fault, peanut. Are you ready to go home?”

  I got my duffel bag fro
m Lee Ann’s room while Daddy talked with Mr. Dawson. When I came downstairs, I saw Mr. Dawson hold a gun out toward Daddy. Daddy smiled and shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t think she’s dangerous. Just ... messed up.”

  I hugged Lee Ann and her mother, then Daddy and I walked home.

  “Did you talk to her?” he asked.

  “I told her to go to hell,” I said.

  He didn’t even remark on my language.

  “She looks like she’s sick,” I said.

  “Yeah, I noticed that when she came the other night.”

  “Do you think she’s dying?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said. “She would have told us before now, don’t you think?”

  I shrugged.

  “She can go ahead and die for all I care,” I said.

  He took my hand.

  “Judy,” he said. “I know you’re mad at her, and you have every right to be. But I don’t think you really want her dead, do you?”

  I shrugged again.

  Rufus yelped and jumped up on me when we got home. Treva gave me a long hug and kissed my forehead.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry I messed up your honeymoon.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Do you want to help me make dinner?”

  I dropped my bag on my bed and went to the kitchen to help with dinner. Upstairs, Daddy was calling Mama at the hotel. When he came downstairs, he gave me a sad smile.

  “She says she’s not sick,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “She’ll be in town for a week. Then she’s going to Los Angeles.”

  “You better call Navid and tell him she’s coming,” I said.

  “I already did.”

  “Why did she come?” I asked. “Why didn’t she just stay in India?”

  “She says she wants to apologize to you. She’s trying to right some things, I guess.”

  “She can go to hell.”

  Daddy smiled and shook his head. “I don’t think you really mean that. I think you still love her in a way.”

  I stared at him.

  “If you didn’t love her, she couldn’t hurt you,” he said. “I know, because when I was still in love with her, she hurt me, too. Now ... well, I’m sad for her, but she can’t hurt me anymore ... unless she hurts you.”

  “Why is she so ... Why is she the way she is?” I asked.

  He sat down at the kitchen table.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “I have some ideas, but the only person who can really answer that for you is your mother.”

  Treva set a plate of pork chops on the table.

  “If you want to see her, one of us can go with you,” she said.

  “Maybe.” I didn’t think I wanted to see Mama at all.

  “Okay,” Treva said, carrying a bowl of macaroni and cheese to the table. “Let’s eat.”

  The next day Daddy went into the office, even though officially he was still on vacation.

  “I just want to finish up a little bit of paperwork,” he said, kissing Treva good-bye.

  She laughed. “Go,” she said. “Have fun, and come back early if you can tear yourself away from your desk.”

  I watched them and smiled. Daddy really did seem happy.

  “Mama always said he’s a workaholic,” I said.

  “Your dad loves his work,” Treva said. “It’s one of the things that makes him so interesting, I think.”

  We sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. She drank hers black, but I liked mine loaded with milk and sugar.

  “So,” she said, “are you ready to go back to school?”

  I shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Will you have any classes with Matt?” she asked, smiling.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I hope you two can work things out,” she said. “He’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah, he is.”

  She rose and took her coffee cup to the sink. I took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” She spun to face me, then grinned. “Very funny,” she said.

  My cheeks reddened and I didn’t reply.

  “Judy?” She sat down at the table again. “You are joking, right?”

  I shook my head.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, God, honey ... how ... I mean ... does Matt know?”

  “It’s not his,” I whispered, not meeting her eyes.

  She sat quietly for a minute, then asked, “So, who is the father?”

  “A guy named Patrick. He’s just a guy. I don’t even really know him.”

  “Judy, how did you get pregnant by a guy you don’t even know? Were you raped?” She leaned forward and took my hands. “Honey, if you were raped we need to report it right away.”

  I shook my head. “He didn’t rape me,” I said, still not looking at her.

  She leaned back and said nothing for a minute.

  Finally, she said, “You’d better tell me what happened.” Her voice was calm and quiet. She didn’t yell or cry or anything.

  I took another deep breath and began. “I went to that party at Heather’s, remember?”

  She nodded.

  “Matt was there, and he was making out with some girl.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

  “I went outside and Patrick came out because he could tell I was upset. And I danced with him to make Matt jealous. And he drove me home, but we went to his house. And ... we had sex.”

  “Oh, Judy,” she said softly. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re pregnant?”

  I nodded. “I took a home pregnancy test on Tuesday.”

  “Well, those aren’t always reliable,” she said. “We need to get you to a doctor.”

  She rose and began pacing the kitchen. “You can’t go to your pediatrician. Maybe I can get you in to see my OB-GYN.”

  “I have the number for Planned Parenthood,” I said.

  She stopped pacing and looked at me.

  “Are you thinking about terminating the pregnancy?”

  “An abortion, yeah, I think so.”

  “You know, you don’t have to do that,” she said. “I mean, you can, if that’s what you decide you want to do. But there are other options. You could have the baby and put it up for adoption.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t have a baby.”

  “You’re sure that’s what you want to do?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  She sighed deeply. “Okay, well, we still need to get you to a doctor. And then we’ll make an appointment at the clinic. I’ll go with you.”

  “Thank you.” I looked up at her then. “Treva, can we not tell Daddy?”

  “No, honey.” She shook her head. “We have to tell your dad. I can’t keep something like this from him.”

  I knew she was going to say that, but I had to ask.

  “I’ll be with you when you tell him,” she said. “If you want.”

  “Will you tell him?”

  She looked at me for a long minute.

  “Please, Treva?” I begged. “I can’t tell him. I just can’t.”

  “Judy,” she said very quietly, “you’re not a little girl anymore. You’re old enough to get pregnant. You’re old enough to make choices. And you’re old enough to take responsibility for those choices. You need to tell your dad yourself.”

  “But ...” I started.

  “I’ll be with you,” she said. “I’ll be right there when you tell him. But you have to be the one to tell him.” She sounded firm.

  “When?” I asked.

  “The sooner the better,” she said.

  She rose and wrapped her arms around me. “I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay. Your dad loves you more than anything. He’ll be sad and maybe angry, but he won’t ever stop loving you.”

  I leaned into her and cried.

  That night af
ter dinner, Treva told Daddy that I had something to say. We sat in the living room, Treva next to him on the couch, me in the recliner chair.

  He sank into the couch when I told him, his hands on his face, and cried. Treva put her arms around him and held him until he stopped. He asked if Matt was the father, and I had to tell the entire story again.

  He rose and paced the living room. I’d never seen him so ... furious.

  “We ought to call the police and have him arrested,” he yelled. “She’s only sixteen, and he’s a senior. He ought to be horsewhipped.”

  I watched him, my eyes wide. Treva came to sit on the arm of the recliner and put her arm around my shoulders.

  After a few minutes of yelling, Daddy just kind of crumpled onto the couch. He dropped his head into his hands and sat still for a long time.

  Finally, he looked at me and then at Treva and asked, “What should we do?”

  “Judy wants to terminate the pregnancy,” Treva said, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll make an appointment for her with my doctor to get the pregnancy confirmed, and then we’ll go to the clinic.”

  He said nothing, just stared at her.

  “It’s a simple procedure,” she went on. “Just an outpatient thing with a local anesthesia.”

  I was grateful she was a nurse and knew about these things. And I was grateful beyond measure that she was here.

  Daddy rose then and walked up the stairs to his bedroom. Treva patted my shoulder. “He needs a little time,” she said. “It’s a lot for him to take in.”

  She rose. “Do you want some tea?”

  I nodded.

  “Treva?”

  She turned in the doorway.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m really proud of you for telling him.”

  47

  Three weeks later, Treva and I pulled into the parking lot behind the women’s clinic. A large group of people stood at the edge of the parking lot, holding signs that said, “Mother, don’t kill your baby!”

  “Oh, God,” I said, covering my face.

  “Just ignore them,” Treva said. She turned off the engine and got out of the car. By the time she got to my door, a man had appeared. He wore a blue vest with the word Escort printed in white. He carried a big boom box on his shoulder that was blaring music.

  I got out of the car and Treva wrapped her arm around me. The man took my elbow and I walked between them to the door and escaped into the quiet of the waiting room. Twenty or so young women looked at me as I entered, then went back to their magazines or conversations.