[Lockhart Brothers 01.0] Deep Down

by Brenda Rothert

  When I’d been upset about high school drama in the past, my mom had always reminded me that it would pass and not to get too caught up in it. But this wouldn’t pass. Not now, not ever. I was irrevocably changed.

  The next couple of weeks passed in a fog. I couldn’t think past whatever day it was. Survival was all I could manage and I focused on schoolwork and worried about what the future held for me. And sometimes, lots of times, I was sure I couldn’t hold on any longer.

  There was no escape. Even when I slept, it was fitful. When I dreamed, it was usually about my father’s crushing weight on top of me. The horror never faded. Every night, my subconscious experienced it anew.

  Some nights I dreamed about my mom. Usually, every time I dreamed about her, she’d be in a hospital bed near death. But recently I saw the healthy, vibrant woman she’d been before getting sick. I’d hold on tightly and feel my pain pouring out as she smoothed a hand over my hair.

  Waking up from those dreams was just as bad as waking up from the ones about my dad. Reality packed a cruel punch.

  I’d started walking to school. Initially, I’d had no choice because Regina didn’t want to be seen with me anymore, so I didn’t have a ride. But it wasn’t so bad. The first few breaths of brisk winter air in the morning were the best part of my day. Walking allowed me to be alone. I was free from the stares and whispers. Free from the sick worry of being in the same house as my dad.

  Sometimes I thought walking might be my salvation. When I didn’t think I could go on with my life anymore, I didn’t consider a violent death. I just imagined walking and never stopping. Eventually I’d find a cliff and walk right over the edge.

  If it was just me, I’d end the pain of my existence. But thinking of the baby growing inside me always ended those thoughts. My baby didn’t deserve that.

  I’d reached the end of a particularly bad day at school and was walking aimlessly. Tiny snowflakes flew around in the biting winter air, but I hardly felt the cold. I was bundled in a winter parka and lost in my thoughts.

  Today I’d eaten lunch in a closed bathroom stall at school to avoid the stares. And instead I got to listen to Mandy Barton telling two other girls that she’d slept with Levi last night to comfort him over what his slutty girlfriend had done to him. They’d speculated about who the father of my child was, eventually deciding on Mr. Schultz, a teacher and coach at my school whom I’d never even spoken to.

  I was on the outskirts of our small city, walking past a rusted, abandoned factory, when a car slowed to a stop nearby. I turned to see a marked police car. A familiar sick taste rose in my throat. My dad was giving me a puzzled glance from a rolled down window, his elbow resting on the door.

  “Ivy, what are you doing out here? It’s the dead of winter and you’re miles from home.”

  “What are you doing here? Are you following me?” My icy tone was challenging. What was there to be afraid of now? He’d stolen the vulnerable, trusting part of me. He’d shown me that there was no one in my life I could count on.

  “I was on patrol and I saw you,” he said, glaring at me. “Get in the car and I’ll drive you home. We need to talk.”

  “Talk? Is that code?” I spat out bitterly.

  His face was a mix of contrition and anger. “Ivy. Let’s not do this. Get in the car.”

  “No.”

  “What’s this I hear about you being pregnant? Is it true?”

  A powerful wave of nausea swept through me. He didn’t deserve to know, and he certainly didn’t deserve to ask me about it.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “I can help, Ivy. We’ll get it taken care of. Come on.”

  I turned to face the car. “Go away. I don’t want your help. I don’t want to be around you.”

  His face fell. The father who had always looked strong and handsome to me now looked tired and pathetic. He nodded and turned the car around, peeling away from the gravel lot of the old factory.

  Darkness came early in the winter months. The sun was setting and my hands were getting numb from the cold, so I headed back toward town. I didn’t have a lot of money, but I had several hundred dollars in my savings account. I’d earned that money babysitting last summer, and I decided to use a little of it on a room at a small motel.

  The floral bedspread in the room was old and scratchy. I didn’t have a change of clothes or a toothbrush. But it was warm and safe. Too worn out to worry anymore, I once again sought comfort in the warmth of the covers.

  AT SCHOOL THE NEXT morning, I was packing my things up slowly after my Advanced Chem class. It was the last period before lunch, and I was in no hurry to get there. Actually, I was considering lunch in the bathroom again. That half hour of not being stared at like a freak would give me the mental energy to finish this day.

  “Ivy?”

  My teacher Miss Byerly approached and leaned on the empty desk next to me. I made eye contact to acknowledge her.

  “I don’t want to intrude, but . . . I’m concerned about you,” she said.

  “I’m okay.”

  The classroom had emptied, and Miss Byerly and I looked at each other in silence for a few seconds.

  “You’re not okay,” she said softly. “And I just can’t stand to see you like this anymore. I want you to know you’re not alone. I see you sitting in class every day and walking through the halls, and you look like a ghost of the girl I used to see.”

  I’d never had a personal conversation with Miss Byerly, but the sincerity in her voice reached something inside me. I looked down at the desk I sat in, tears blurring the scratched wood surface.

  “You can talk to me, Ivy,” she said, bending down near the ground and putting a hand on my back. “But you don’t have to. If there’s something you need—anything at all—just say so. If you want to hang out in here over lunch, or if you need a ride somewhere—”

  “I’m pregnant.” My voice shook as I spoke the words for the first time. “You know that, right?”

  “I’ve heard that, yes,” she said, looking me straight in the eye.

  I took in a deep breath and let it out; relieved I’d finally spoken the truth to someone. Everyone knew, but there was something liberating about owning it.

  “Do you have anyone there for you?” Miss Byerly asked, her hand now rubbing a slow circle on my back. “I know you just lost your mom over the summer.”

  I shrugged silently.

  “And your dad? Is he upset with you?”

  My throat tightened uncomfortably. I couldn’t speak, so I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to force away the image of him.

  “When I say I’m here, I mean it, Ivy. If you need someone to take you to the doctor, or a place to stay—”

  “I do need a place to stay.” The words tumbled out in a hopeful rush.

  Miss Byerly’s soft hazel eyes hardened a little. “What’s going on with your dad, Ivy? Is there something I should know?”

  I shook my head, my heart pounding wildly. “Never mind.” I wiped my cheeks and gathered my things, standing up.

  “No.” She stood too. “I don’t want . . . I mean, if you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay. And I’d love to have you stay with me.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean that. You don’t have to . . .” I took another deep breath. “I just meant if maybe you could help me find a room somewhere. Isn’t there a shelter at the Methodist church?”

  “Ivy, you’re staying with me, and not another word about it. Are you eighteen?”

  I nodded.

  “Then come down to my room when school lets out,” Miss Byerly said. “We’ll go to your house and pick up a few things.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief. I wouldn’t have to worry when I closed my eyes in bed at night that I’d wake up to the sound of my dad trying to get in my bedroom door. I’d take a few things that were important to me—the butterfly necklace my mom gave me for my sixteenth birthday, photos of me and her, my clothes. I didn’t want most of the stuff from my bedroom. Tha
t place was ruined for me. I wanted to escape it and never go back.

  Miss Byerly closed the door to her classroom and gestured to her small metal desk.

  “I’ll pull up a chair and we can have lunch at my desk if that’s okay. I’ve got a chicken salad sandwich and homemade cookies, and I have plenty to share.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Miss Byerly.”

  “Call me April unless we’re in class.”

  April Byerly was a young teacher with long curly brown hair and a pretty smile. I’d heard she dated Mr. Schultz, the teacher who was rumored to be the father of my baby. My cheeks burned as I remembered hearing the girls laughing about it in the bathroom.

  I sat down in the chair April had pulled up to one side of her desk.

  “Um, you know . . . I mean, I want to say that I’ve never even spoken to Mr. Schultz. People are saying that he and I . . . that’s only a rumor and I have no idea how it started.”

  She gave me a sympathetic smile and passed me half of her sandwich.

  “I didn’t give it a second thought, Ivy. Matt and I went out a couple times earlier this year, but it wasn’t a love connection for either of us. I know he’s a good guy, though. He wouldn’t abuse the teacher-student relationship in any way.”

  “Good. I’m glad you know that. And . . . are you sure you have room for me at your place?”

  “I’ve got a guest room in need of a guest. So, have you been to the doctor yet? And are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

  “No. I’m doing my best to eat healthy. No soda or anything like that.”

  “We’ll stop for vitamins on the way home later. And I can set up a doctor appointment for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m not asking anything specific here, Ivy, so don’t take this that way. Is the baby’s father part of your life?”

  I shook my head adamantly. “I’m on my own now. It’s just me.”

  April opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She sighed and bit her lip, looking unsure. “I don’t want to overstep. I just want to make sure you know you’ve got options. If money is an issue—”

  “Do you mean abortion?”

  She gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “I know this is a difficult, overwhelming time for you. I don’t want to make it worse. But do what’s best for you, Ivy. No one but you knows what that is. Maybe you aren’t even sure right now.”

  “I got a full scholarship to Stanford,” I said softly. “You’re the only person I’ve told about that.”

  April’s face broke into an excited grin.

  “Ivy! What an accomplishment. That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

  “Thanks. Please don’t tell anyone, because I’m turning it down.”

  Her happy expression morphed into one of concern. “You don’t have to decide that right now. Take some time—”

  “I already know. I can’t take a baby to Stanford. There’s no way.”

  April brushed the crumbs from her hands and passed me a chocolate chip cookie. “You have options, though.”

  I smiled, grateful to be talking about this with someone. “Before my mom had me, she had two miscarriages. When she was so sick and the doctors said she might not make it, she . . .” I cleared my throat, the image of my mom in the hospital bed still bringing me to tears. “She got this warm, happy look in her eyes when I was holding her hand and she said she knew it was the end. That she loved me and wanted to stay with me, but it wasn’t meant to be. And that she’d finally get to meet her other two babies.”

  “Oh, Ivy.” Tears shone in April’s eyes, too.

  “She loved those babies. And I love mine. I don’t judge people who make other decisions but, for me, there is no decision. I wasn’t planning on being a parent yet, but I’m going to be, and I’ll never be a parent who hurts my child.”

  April sighed deeply. “My heart feels heavy, Ivy. I know enough about you to know something’s not right. Don’t be afraid to speak the truth. No matter what, no matter who.”

  “I just want to move forward. And you’re helping me do that.”

  We switched to lighter talk about music and the weather. But in the back of my mind, I was still thinking about our earlier conversation.

  As much as I wanted my dad to answer for what he did, I couldn’t expose myself to the shame of everyone knowing the truth. Only he and I knew what had happened between us, and only I knew about the pregnancy. And I planned to keep it that way.

  AFTER MOVING IN WITH April, I found my way out from under the dark cloud I’d been living under. I could sleep peacefully at night. I still had the dreams, but they rarely woke me up. Her tiny guest room with a single bed and desk was my little slice of heaven. I was safe there.

  I’d left my dad a one line note telling him I was moving out. I put my cell phone next to the note with all the contacts deleted, both because I no longer wanted the phone he was paying for and because I didn’t want him to have a way to reach me.

  April would always greet me with a good morning when I wandered into her kitchen after my shower. She’d ask me how my day was shaping up and we’d talk about hers. We’d watch movies and go grocery shopping together. She went to my doctor’s appointments with me and she was an amazing support. Having her in my life had helped me banish the thought of walking off a cliff.

  Even school felt survivable now. I had lunch in April’s classroom every day, rode home with her after school and brushed off the rumors that I’d moved in with her because of our lesbian relationship.

  My only invite to prom was from an asshole on the football team who asked in the middle of English class if I’d go with him so he could get laid with no fear of getting me pregnant. I was just two months away from graduation, and though I told myself I could get through anything at this point, the snickers from people whom I used to think were friends still burned.

  For prom night, April and I wore the circa-1985 taffeta gowns we’d bought from a secondhand store. She gave me a teased side ponytail and I gave her spiky bangs. We put on frosty pink lipstick and dark blue eyeshadow, posed for pictures in her living room and then watched Pretty in Pink.

  “This is better than my actual prom was,” she said, arching her brows and nodding seriously.

  I burst out laughing. “It’s hard to take you seriously with your bangs five inches in the air.”

  “I wish I’d grown up in the eighties. My prom was in 2005 and it was all about how much skin the girls could show.”

  “What was your dress like?”

  She smiled sheepishly. “Uh . . . I wore a strapless blue dress.”

  “Sounds modest.” I elbowed her as we both laughed.

  She tipped the fancy bottle of sparkling apple juice we were sharing and took a swig, passing it to me.

  “I was supposed to have sex for the first time tonight,” I said, clutching the bottle as I thought about the prom night that wasn’t meant to be. “With Levi.”

  “I’m sorry,” April said, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got that sad look in your eyes again.”

  “Sometimes things don’t go as planned.” I smiled weakly.

  “So true. I wish I hadn’t gotten the Seattle job now. I’d really like to be here to help you and the baby. Are you sure you won’t consider moving with me?”

  I shook my head. April had found out last week that she’d gotten a job she’d interviewed for a month ago and figured she was a long shot for. It was a great opportunity for her but it meant she was moving at the end of the school year.

  Which meant I was moving, too.

  “I want to start over somewhere new,” I said. “I’m twenty percent scared and eighty percent excited about it.”

  “Well, you’re one hundred percent amazing, Ivy. You’ve got more strength than a lot of people twice your age. And maybe you’ll meet your Blane in this new place.”

  I smiled at her reference to the movie we’d just watched
. “That’s not what I want. I just want a quiet place where I can raise my baby and be anonymous.”

  “If anyone deserves to find that place, it’s you.”

  I SET OFF IN search of my new place the morning after graduation. I’d walked across the stage, which hadn’t been all that scary since April was the one standing next to the principal handing out diplomas. I’d kept a hand on my slightly rounded belly and my eyes on April the entire time. My gut told me my father wasn’t watching the graduation ceremony from the football stadium’s bleachers, and I didn’t have any other family to speak of.

  April had taken me out to dinner after the ceremony and given me the keys to her 2007 Honda Accord, telling me it was mine now. We’d gone back and forth for several minutes—me crying while saying I couldn’t accept it and her saying I had to. I’d been planning to take the bus out of town. A car of my own that was a tangible reminder of April changed my feelings about the trip. Now I was fifty percent scared and fifty percent excited.

  We both cried while saying our goodbyes. April tearfully assured me she was going shopping that day for a car fit for a single Seattle woman.

  “I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me,” I said, holding her close.

  “I’ve loved having you here, Ivy. I told you my guest room needed a guest, and you were the perfect one.”

  “I’m not talking about the room.” I burst into tears again.

  “Alright, you,” she said, pulling away and wiping my tears away with her thumb. “Go find where you’re meant to be. And let me know when you get there.”

  “I don’t have a phone anymore, and I can’t afford one.”

  “Find a payphone. Borrow someone’s phone. Go to the library and email me from a computer. You stay in touch with me, Ivy. I mean it.”

  “I will.” I covered my red, swollen eyes with my sunglasses and got into the car.

  Seeing April waving goodbye made me cry some more, but once she was out of sight, I turned on some music and let the sense of freedom wash over me.