by PJ Sharon
Hiccups started and I drank the water down before I could finally speak. I relayed the whole sordid mess while Sami and her mom sat listening, wide eyed with sympathy. When I finished, Mrs. Owens patted my hand and spoke gently.
“I know everything feels hopeless right now, but things will look brighter in the morning. I’m sure once your father has a chance to think this through, he’ll have a change of heart.”
“I can’t go back there. He hates me, and I don’t blame him. I’ve ruined everything,” I cried, fresh tears spilling over.
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just upset. Give him some time.”
Sami had been quiet up to this point, but she looked at her mother, the familiar pleading expression I recognized from our long years together—the one that usually got her what she wanted. “Mom, can’t she stay with us? We can take care of her until the baby comes and by then she’ll be graduated. Wouldn’t it be cool to have a baby around?” Sami shot me a hopeful glance and I wondered if this had more to do with her than with me.
Her mother’s face went pale. “Let’s not think that far ahead. You girls have no idea what it takes to raise a child.” She carried the glass to the sink, slid the whistling kettle to the back burner, and then faced the two of us. “Why don’t you both get to bed and try to sleep. Don’t worry, Penny. We’ll figure this all out tomorrow.”
∞∞∞
I barely slept, my father’s cruel words dancing in my head like evil sugar plum fairies, ready to sink razor sharp teeth into my heart if I dozed off.
When the gray light of morning came, I felt like I’d been run over by a semi. My throat ached and my head was stuffed from crying. As I suspected, in the light of day, my situation looked about the same—bleak and hopeless.
The remarkable thing about being human is our resilience. After a long, hot shower, a bite or two of toast, and a cup of some fruity herbal tea, I felt almost human. Mrs. Owens sat across the table explaining the details of her job as a social worker, something I’d never even thought about until now. Sami mentioned it on occasion, only in passing when her mother was particularly stressed out about having to remove a child from an abusive home or when she had to deal with drug addicts who couldn’t take care of themselves, let alone the kids they kept having so they could keep their welfare checks coming.
“Your father has a legal and moral obligation to provide for you until you are eighteen years old. I can help you fill out the paperwork to petition the court so that you can return to your home, but it would mean involving the police and social services, and in my experience it isn’t usually in the best interest of the child to force a parent to take them back in.”
Her clinical tone was out of place with the mess of blonde curls, the worn jeans, and the UCONN sweatshirt Sami’s mom wore. I could see what Sami meant. Her mom didn’t smile much, and her stern features took away from how pretty she really was.
“I don’t want the police involved. I don’t want to go back home if he doesn’t want me there. I’ll figure something else out.” I had no idea what. I tore a tiny piece of a cinnamon raisin toast off and nibbled it for a while before swallowing. Then I separated out the raisins and made a small pile at one edge of my plate. Arranging my food gave me a small sense of control, when in reality, it was obvious that I had absolutely none. It seemed a ridiculous exercise in futility, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I understand,” she said, observing me carefully. “Are there any relatives you can stay with?”
I thought about that for a minute, not willing to face the idea of calling Bill. “My sister, Sarah, lives in New York. I guess I could go live with her, but I really want to finish school here.”
“You could get a GED...” she started but at the words, my eyes shot up.
“No! I’ve worked too hard for too long not to graduate. I’m graduating with my class, no matter what.” My throat started to close again, the food in my stomach twisting into a knot ready to catapult itself to the surface. I took a deep breath, willing it to stay down. I took another sip of tea and swallowed hard.
Mrs. Owens studied me again, her blue eyes filled with empathy and concern. “Good for you, Penny. I know none of this can be easy for you, but I admire your spirit. That kind of determination will get you through this.” She poured me another cup of tea, which I had no intention of drinking. “Another option is that we petition the court to make you an emancipated minor, at which time you would be eligible for state assistance, medical coverage and possibly housing for you and your baby. All of that would take several weeks or months to take effect and they would likely go after the baby’s father for support...”
She continued on with all of the legal mumbo jumbo and craziness that I couldn’t begin to comprehend, all the while, my spirit sank deeper and deeper into a dark hole of despair. What was I going to do? I couldn’t stay here for long. It was clear that Sami’s mom didn’t want the responsibility. For all of my supposed intelligence, determination, and strength of will, I was floundering like a ship adrift on the sea, waiting for a wave to crash over my bow and sink me for good.
Chapter 34
Translating Virgil’s Aeneid from the original Latin felt like child’s play compared to filling out all the applications for welfare, low income housing, food stamps, and something called WIC—free food vouchers for milk, eggs, cheese, and cereal. I spent the week talking with state social workers that made it obvious to me why Sami’s mom always looked so miserable. I could only imagine how jaded they got after dealing with the mind sucking paperwork and desperate, needy, charity cases like me. They treated me like another statistic. I had never felt so humiliated.
Dr. Eaton had contacted my dad, but so far, he hadn’t changed his mind. Mr. Barstow offered to have me stay with him and his wife, a gesture that brought me to tears of gratitude, but that I declined immediately. He had three small kids of his own and taking in a pregnant teenager was far above and beyond the call of guidance counselor duty, not to mention against probably every school rule in the book. It was nice to know that he cared enough to go out on a limb for me.
By the end of the week, the rumors flying around school had me pregnant, homeless (both of which were true), and dying of some horrible sexually transmitted disease (totally untrue, though I supposed time would tell, considering the unprotected sex and the rape and all—facts I was still blatantly ignoring). Half the senior class treated me like tragedy might be contagious, avoiding me in the hallways and averting their eyes when I passed by. The other half acted as if I were a celebrity, rushing to sit next to me at lunch and asking questions I had no answers to. Bobby Russell leaned toward the first group, glancing down at his feet when I caught his eye in the hall. I couldn’t blame him. I felt more ashamed of myself than I imagined possible and if I could have helped it, I wouldn’t have wanted to be seen with me either.
Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. I had called Sarah and she agreed to meet me at the rink after my shift. I finished sweeping the floor, wiping down the counters and stocking up on pretzels, popcorn, and candy, just as my replacement showed up and my sister walked in behind her.
I left Candy—a blonde cheerleader type with a perpetual plastic grin on her face—in charge of the register. It was two in the afternoon and like clockwork, the rink’s double doors swung open and a mob of sweaty, smelly, screaming hockey players barreled out and attacked the counter. Candy’s smile disappeared and I barely escaped out the front doors, towing Sarah behind me.
“Hey, I was going to grab a pretzel.” Sarah protested, looking back over her shoulder.
“You don’t want to mess with that crowd.” I tossed a thumb back. “I probably just saved your life.” I sat down on the concrete bench in front of the long front windows that separated us from the chaos inside.
“I suppose I owe you, then.” She slid onto the seat beside me. The curve of her lips didn’t match the earnest look in her eyes.
“So, have you seen Dad?” I asked.
“He told me what happened. I wish you’d told me you were pregnant.”
“I couldn’t tell anyone until I knew what I wanted to do.”
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“I want to keep the baby.” I looked over at her, waiting to see her face shadow with disappointment. Instead she smiled—a happy grin that lit her dark eyes. I let out a breath I hadn’t intended to hold.
“I’m proud of you. It takes a lot of guts to do what you believe is right. If Dad can’t see that, screw him.”
“Sarah, what are you saying?”
“I told Dad that I’m gay.” It was her turn to wait for my expression.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That explains a lot. Dad must have had a hemorrhage.” The news didn’t surprise me, though I thought she’d never come out and admit it. Our family was wound too tight to acknowledge a catastrophic embarrassment like that. “Why did you decide to tell him now?”
She leaned her elbows on her knees, looking out over the manicured lawn and the remnants of the perennial flowers and bushes that were long gone brown and dry. “I got tired of pretending to be something I’m not. I thought it was time to tell the truth. I figured if my little sister could do it, so could I.”
A smile crept over my face. “I’m glad I inspired you. It looks like Dad won’t be speaking to either of us for a while.” Then the seriousness of my situation hit me again. “What am I going to do?”
“You could come live with me. I’ve been thinking about moving into a bigger place.” She rubbed circles on my back like she’d done when I was little. The gesture sent a rush of warmth into my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I missed being touched—a comforting and affectionate moment of contact that brought tears burning to my eyes.
“I appreciate you wanting to help, Sarah. But I want to finish school here. I’m not ready to move into a big city lifestyle—especially not with a baby coming. I’m going to try to find a place around here.”
“I get it. But I want to help. I can send you some money until you get on your feet. Sales are going really well with my new clothing designs. I’ll be able to hook you up with whatever you need, okay? I don’t want you to worry. We’ll figure it all out.”
I hated the idea of her having to support me, but it took the weight off my shoulders some. I jingled the change in my hoodie pocket—money I had collected in tips throughout the day. I’d be lucky if there was ten bucks, enough for a couple of weeks’ worth of school lunches if I ate a yogurt and a granola bar every day.
We talked for a while longer, going over all of my options, discussing what I would need to do next. She was beyond relieved when I told her Carter was the father and seemed to understand my refusal to tell him—up to a point.
“He has a right to know. Not to mention, a responsibility to you and the baby. You shouldn’t let him get off this easy.” Her face had hardened into a scowl.
“I can’t tell him. Not yet. Anyway, he’s gone back home to Michigan. He’s got enough responsibility to deal with right now. Maybe if he comes back next year, things will be different and I can tell him then.”
Sarah eyed me with disapproval, but let it go. Her face brightened. “Hey, I know. You should call that guy Bill. He seemed really nice. He said he wanted to be there for you if you needed anything. I’d say now is a great time to test that theory.”
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t even know me. That would be completely unfair for me to lay this on him. He’d feel obligated out of guilt or some stupid sense of loyalty to Mom. Just forget it, okay? I’ll figure this out.”
Sarah offered to call Marie and Rachael and fill them in to save me the preaching and tongue lashing I’d be sure to get when I next talked to them both. “Besides,” she said, “it’ll take the heat off of me when I tell Marie I’m a lesbian.” She grinned and I rolled my eyes. Then she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me for a long time. “We’ll get through this, Peanut. We have each other. You won’t have to go through it alone, I promise.”
I wanted to believe her, but experience had shown me that promises landed on shaky ground and that ultimately, we were all in this life alone. The familiar knot that gripped my insides took hold of the words, twisting them until my heart ached. I looked up at the October sky watching as dark clouds moved overhead, casting shadows over the skeletal remains of purple coneflowers and bee balm in the flowerbed. A winter chill bit along my skin, reminding me how quickly the seasons changed, and that time was working against me.
Chapter 35
“You are coming home with me.” Bill stood on the porch of Sami’s house, his jaw set, his eyes determined.
“How did you know where to find me?” Not that I’d been hiding out, but I could have been anywhere on a Sunday afternoon. How could he have known...unless...Sarah told him?
His face softened, that nice smile coming into view. “Your sister called me this morning. She said she’d seen you yesterday and you refused her offer of living with her in New York.” He leaned back on the railing and folded his arms across his chest. He looked more casual than I’d seen him, wearing jeans and a polo shirt. He even had on sneakers today, a change from his brown oxfords or the dressy black shoes he’d had on at the funeral. “I’m glad you decided to stay. I meant what I said, Penny. I want you to come live with me.”
My chest tightened, “I don’t even know you.”
“Then this is a perfect opportunity to get to know me.” He studied me for a moment, his face growing somber. “Unless that’s not what you want.”
“It’s not that...I don’t want you to do this out of some kind of guilt or because you think you owe it to my mother.” I looked down at my slippers, the Tasmanian devil eyes looking back at me, its fangs crooked into a grimace.
Bill hesitated before answering. “Let me make something clear to you. As much as I want to help you out, I’d be doing this for purely selfish reasons.” His gentle smile warmed me to my toes. He gestured to the wicker chairs on the porch and I sat down. He took the chair next to me. “After my wife died and my son went off to school, I had no reason to stay in Amherst other than my job at the college. I lived alone in a big empty house. Once I found out about you, I decided to sell it and move closer to Somerville, so I could...keep an eye on you.”
“So...you’ve kind of been stalking me?” I raised a brow and smirked at him.
He laughed. “You remind me so much of your mother. You have that same sarcastic tone she used to use whenever she wanted to drive a point home.” His eyes looked a little sad and a rush of energy moved through me. I imagined Mom for a second and wondered if her spirit was close. Then he turned to me, sitting forward in the chair. “I have a house out on Thompson Lake. The main house has three bedrooms and you are welcome to stay there with me, or we could renovate the boat house if you want. It’s a small cottage, but it would give you some privacy if you’d prefer.” He seemed excited about the possibilities and I couldn’t help but feel a spark of relief.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked, holding my breath, half expecting him to change his mind. I’d learned enough about high hopes to know how easily they could crash down around me.
“It’s what I’ve wanted for a very long time.” He reached out and touched my hand.
The baby fluttered his approval, making me put my other hand to my belly and look down. “You know about the baby, right?”
“Your sister told me.” Tenderness infused his tone. “I understand better than most, how feelings can get beyond our control sometimes. I also understand that the consequences are not always all bad. I know this wasn’t in your plan, but having a child can be the most wonderful of gifts, and you won’t have to do this by yourself. I’ll be there to help.” He stood up and reached out a hand to me. “I’m not saying it will be easy, but I think we’ll manage just fine.”
I reached for him and let him lift me to my feet thinking that after all of the shock had worn off, Mom would probably
have said the same thing.
∞∞∞
When I walked up to the lake house, I thought I’d been transported into a fairy tale. Number thirty-two Lakeview Terrace was at the end of a long gravel driveway that wound through a pine forest, the house well hidden from the road. Window boxes filled with remnants of leggy white petunias and orange and yellow nasturtium lined the front windows, giving the cottage a welcoming appeal. The house was painted a soft yellow with dark green shutters and trim to match. It reminded me of a gingerbread house with all of its intricate lattice work along the roof lines.
Bill carried my suitcase in while I clutched my penguin, feeling like Alice in Wonderland about to follow the rabbit down the hole. Excited and terrified, I knew that my life was about to change and would never be the same again.
I stood in the foyer and glanced up the stairs, but Bill set down my suitcase and led me down a narrow hallway, an antique deacon’s bench and small table stacked with magazines and mail lining one wall. The spacious kitchen with its shiny, black granite countertops and stone tile floor had a distinctly masculine feel—all of the appliances a gleaming stainless steel. Beyond the kitchen, the floor plan opened up to a combo dining area and living room, decorated in soft tones of blue and cream.
My attention was drawn immediately to the view. Deep red draperies were drawn back over hooks on the wall that could be pulled across the French doors to block out the late afternoon sunlight reflecting off the water. I couldn’t imagine that Bill would have much use for them. The sun setting through the nearly leafless trees cast a golden glow on the lake, making it appear to sparkle with glitter. An old wooden dock rocked gently in the lapping water. The scene took my breath away.