So . . . That Happened

by Laci Maskell

  Lux squeezes my hand and brings me back to reality. Her parents still stare at me. I feel like they are waiting for something, like I’ll have to say something to get them to leave.

  “I’m fine now,” I say. Then, because I think I have to, and slightly because I want to, I say, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Lux’s dad says, though he has the look that says you-knocked-up-my-daughter-so-I-hate-you-but-I’m-glad-you-didn’t-die. He nods, touches Lux’s arm, then leaves her room.

  “Thank you, daddy,” Lux says.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Greyson?” Lux’s mom asks. “Do you need anything? Something to drink?”

  My jaw clenches involuntarily at her kindness. I’m not used to it. It throws me off my guard. Jesse’s parents are nice, but they leave us alone for the most part, so the niceness is not always apparent. Jesse’s parents are nicer than my parents, warmer, all around more human, but there is a feeling I get from Lux’s parents that I can’t put my finger on. Something deeper and more familial than just being someone’s parents. I don’t know. I should just forget about it. As my dad says, “You should never dwell on something that you will never have. To dwell is to waste your life.” Great advice, Pap.

  “I’m fine. Thank you,” I tell her.

  She smiles a smile that is real, as I’ve never seen before, and leaves the room. My heart swells then crashes. I came here to figure out a way to stop feeling guilty, to stop the torrent of emotions that I’ve been having, but now I feel a whole Hell of a lot worse, about the situation, about myself, about my home life, my friends.

  The room is quiet and I suddenly feel itchy in my own skin. My breathing may not be killing me but it is still not at its normal pace. Lux still sits beside me, still holds my hand. Her hand feels foreign in mine. Moments ago it felt perfect, like it belongs there, and now it makes me feel itchy. I unclasp my hand and shake free of hers. I stand up from the bed, still slightly dizzy, and run my hands down my face. I can’t believe I am here, still here, and acting the way I am.

  “What the Hell was that? I thought you were having a seizure or something,” Lux says, still seated on her bed.

  I contemplate giving her some bullshit answer, something that will make me sound like less of a pussy. But then I remember that it is just the two of us. My friends aren’t here. My parents aren’t here. I can just be myself. I can tell her the truth.

  I open my mouth to tell her what triggered the panic attack when I remember the first and last time Lux and I were alone together in one of our bedrooms. We talked like I have never talked to anyone in my life. Not Jesse. Not Amelia. Not my parents. I told her things I’ve never told anyone. I confided in her with things I’ve never told anyone else. I felt comfortable with her. I felt free almost. I wish I knew what it is about her that allows me to open up. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t belong in my group at school. Maybe it’s because she comes across so innocent and trustworthy. Maybe it’s because she truly is a good person. Whatever it is, it’s liberating and constricting at the same time.

  “When you were lying on your bed, you raised your arms and I could see a strip of your belly. I could see the slight bulge. All of a sudden it was all very real. The pregnancy. The baby. For the first time since you told me, it was actually real. And obviously I wasn’t ready to deal with that.”

  Lux stares at me with a look of pity and disdain. It’s not a look I’ve ever seen before. It’s not a look I am about to get used to.

  Lux

  “Oh here we go again. You feel bad for yourself so naturally I have to feel bad for you. You corner me in a closet because you’re mad I might have had an abortion. You come to my house because you feel guilty. You have a panic attack because you can’t hand it,” I say. The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. It is not easy holding things back these days.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” Greyson says taking a step towards me.

  His words feel like a blow to the chest. I have kept the biggest secret of all and he is afraid I will tell someone about him having a panic attack. His faith in me is lacking. I want to hate him so much for it. And yet I can’t help but want him to have faith in me. To know that I would never betray him.

  There is something seriously wrong with me.

  “Why do you treat me like that?” I ask him, hurt in my voice.

  “Like what?” he retorts, no sympathy.

  “Like this is all my fault. Like I masterminded this whole thing just to destroy you. I haven’t asked you for anything. I didn’t ask you to come here. And while we’re at it, I didn’t ask for you to neglect to tell me that the condom broke which landed us in this mess in the first place. All you do is yell at me and look down on me. And all I’ve been is tolerant and nice to you. What about me, Greyson? What about how I feel? Have you ever stopped for one second to ask yourself how the one who is pregnant feels? The one who pukes more times in a day than you pee? The girl who has a fire breathing dragon inside her chest? The girl who gets called names in school? Why is it always about you? Obviously you don’t care about me. So maybe you could just lay off.”

  Greyson crosses his arms in frustration. His eyebrows dance. As much as I hate myself for it, the emotions playing across his face only make him more attractive to me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “No you’re not,” I say, even though he may very well be. “But that’s okay,” I say, which is a lie.

  Greyson rubs his hands up and down his face. He sighs heavily then runs his hands back down and up his face. When he breathes the hair above his eyes flies up.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Greyson says. He sits down on my desk chair, his elbows impaling the tops of his knees as he places his face in his hands.

  I could tell him that I am giving the baby up for adoption. I should tell him. I’m sure it would ease his growing concern. I’m sure it would get him off my case. But I’m also sure that would be the end of our relationship as I know it. As selfish as it makes me, I’m not ready to let him go.

  Before I am able to say anything to him, he nearly jumps out of the chair and says, “Yeah, okay, I’m complaining, but it sucks. I can’t act the same with my friends anymore. I’m scared to have sex with my girlfriend because god forbid I get her pregnant. I can’t tell my parents because they would disown me. I’m sure it sucks for you too. I know it sucks for you. I’ve seen how my friends treat you. But Leah hates Jesse now. She doesn’t talk to him. She treats him like crap. And yeah they’re siblings, that’s how siblings treat each other I guess. But Jesse has no idea why Leah hates him. And it hurts him. Jesse loves her.”

  Crap. If Greyson didn’t notice it, I could probably let it slide, but if Jesse has said something to Greyson about it, then Leah must be treating Jesse worse than I thought. If Leah was acting like a bitch to Greyson, sure I could handle that. But Jesse has always treated me decently. I can’t let her treat her brother like crap just because his best friend is the reason for my problems. It all sounds insanely complicated, but there you have it.

  “What do you want me to say, Greyson?” I ask. Because really, I have no idea.

  Greyson let’s out an angry growl and shakes his head.

  “I don’t know. What are we going to do?”

  “What do you mean we?” I ask. “I have never asked you for anything. I don’t plan on asking you for anything. And I don’t see why you need to worry about any of this. I have let you off the hook. You don’t need to feel guilty. I relieve you of any guilty feelings. You can go and live your life, as I have told you, and forget about me and the baby. When you see me in school and in class just think of me as another student.”

  “Just like that?” Greyson asks. “It can’t be that easy.”

  “If you make it that easy, it is that easy,” I say.

  If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want him to forget about me and the baby. I want him to want to be in my life and the baby’s life, for however long that may be.


  A look of pure relief crosses Greyson’s face. But then he looks confused. He says, “Why don’t you want anything from me?”

  That is a good question. It’s something I’ve thought about. Sometimes I can’t answer that question. But most of the time I know. “I don’t know. What could I want from you? Your money? I don’t want your money. I’m sure it could help. But I’m not going to have you hate me because I’m taking your money. Getting money from you would require you to tell your parents, which you don’t want to do. What else could you give me? For the longest time all I wanted was for you to notice me and for the shortest time I got that. What else could I need?”

  “You really don’t want anything?”

  A rueful smile crosses my lips and I say, “What I want you can’t give me.”

  Greyson looks sad and a bit worried, but I’m sure it will pass. As unprepared as I am to be a mother, Greyson is even farther from prepared to be a father and that is not something I’m about to push on him.

  “Lux, I,” Greyson starts, but I cut him off.

  I’m sure he is about to say something he doesn’t mean or something that will ultimately hurt me.

  “Greyson, don’t. It’s fine. We are what we are. It’s not going to change just because I’m having your baby. Just, go live your life. I’ll live mine. Everything will be back to the way it was.”

  Greyson’s head falls. I wish he wasn’t making this so difficult. It breaks my heart to let him off the hook, but I know it will never work this way. Besides the fact that I am giving the baby up for adoption, Greyson and I are too different to make it work as a couple. As badly as I want him, and as much as I wish that he wanted me too, I know he never will, and that hurts, but I have to live with it.

  “I am sorry,” he says, as he heads towards the door.

  “I know,” I say, tears stinging my eyes.

  I know I will break down as soon as Greyson is out of my room, but I have to hold it together now. I’ve thrown up in front of him, and cried in front of him, crying again is only going to drive him further away. I’m sure Amelia has never cried in front of him. God, why do I always compare myself to her? It is a freaking disease. Sure she has the blonde hair that shimmers even when there is no light. Sure she has the most beautiful green eyes known to man. And sure she’s got mile high legs that are too toned for their own good. But surely there is something about me that is better than her. I’m smart. But then again, no high school boy is going to choose the smart girl over the gorgeous girl. I’m small, but then again, what guy is going to choose the travel sized girlfriend over the one they can climb?

  Greyson smiles a sad smile at me, says, “See you later, pretty girl,” then walks out of my room.

  The tears break free when he says pretty girl. As much as I hated him for giving me the nickname the night he abandoned me, I can’t help but feel special because of it. I’ve never heard him call Amelia by a pet name. Surely him giving me a nickname means something. But then I’m sure I’m reading too much into it.

  Greyson coming to my house tonight could mean something. He said he wanted to clear his guilt, but he could have done that at school. Why would he risk coming to my house and being seen at my house, if he just wanted to stop feeling guilty. And for that matter, why would he care if I had gotten an abortion if he wants nothing to do with me and the baby. His behavior is very confusing and is beginning to send me mixed signals. It would be far easier if he didn’t care at all and wanted nothing to do with us. If that were the case, I could give the baby up for adoption and get back to my life. Trouble is, I love my baby and its father. Ugh. Life is so hard.

  Tears fall freely as I lie back on my bed. I look around my room and try to remember where Greyson stood minutes before. I was so scared when he started having his panic attack. I thought he was having a seizure or something. I didn’t know if we would have to call an ambulance or if he was going to be okay. And for him to get that affected by realizing the baby was real and that the pregnancy is something that is truly happening, is almost more than I can handle. The copy of Mr. Darcy’s Diary sits on top of my bed. Greyson conceded with me by saying Darcy is a good guy. How dare he. I was absurdly comparing Greyson to Darcy today in class and I didn’t want Greyson to agree with me. For him to change sides so easily means he must have picked up on the comparison.

  It felt beyond amazing to hold his hand. I know he let me do it. My hand fit so perfectly into his. Why do I have to like the one guy I can’t have? Haha. That’s not necessarily true. There are several more than one guy I can’t have. But Greyson is the epitome of guys I can’t have.

  Something that Greyson said keeps eating away at me. I can’t let Leah continue to treat her brother so horribly when he has done nothing wrong. I can’t find it in my heart to hate Greyson, so why should Leah hate her own brother?

  I reach for my phone to call Leah and straighten this whole mess out when my mom knocks on my door.

  I try to wipe the remaining tears off my cheeks before she enters to dodge some of the are you sure you’re okay questions. I smile at her to dispel some of the worry I see written on her face. She smiles back at me and nods with her head in the direction of my bed. I nod to let her know she can sit down.

  “How did it go?” she asks.

  “Fine,” I say, knowing she will not let me get away with such a weak answer.

  She tilts her head to the side and gives me the I’m-your-mother-you-must-tell-me-these-things look.

  “I don’t know, mom. He was sorry. I mean you saw him have a panic attack. I think that means something. Though I’m not sure what.”

  “I must say,” my mom says. “Your daddy was about ready to kill that boy for coming over. That is, until that poor boy had the attack. If you ask me, it shows character that he had the guts to come over here, especially with an angry father, and that he cares enough about you to see how you are.”

  “Oh mom,” I say. I think she is getting the wrong idea. “Greyson didn’t come over because he cares about me. He came over because he feels guilty about the baby and he doesn’t want to anymore.”

  My mom pats my knee, a gesture that says whatever-you-say-dear and smiles at me. I’m sure every mother whose teenage daughter gets knocked up wants said daughter to fall madly in love with said boy and live happily ever after. I don’t see my mother reaching that fairy tale.

  I’ve had dreams and daydreams about Greyson and I being together. Since I found out about the baby, I’ve had dreams and daydreams about the three of us being together. It is a beautiful picture. Greyson holding my hand, kissing my neck, caressing my skin. I burn from his touch. More recently I’ve thought about how he would be with the baby. I’ve always pictured the baby as a girl. I can clearly imagine Greyson holding her so gently and loving her so much. I see Greyson lifting her up in the air and her laughing so loudly. I see them taking walks in the park, Greyson looking back to smile at me with love and our daughter looking back to say, “Are you coming, mommy?” But when I snap back, reality sets in as does a deep seeded ache. I know I will never have any of those dreams.

  My mom rests her hand on my arm and says, “You’ll be okay, baby.”

  “I know, mom. Thanks for believing in me. And thanks for not disowning me.”

  “Never, baby,” she says, which makes me think of Wren. I miss him so much sometimes it hurts.

  I’ve tried calling him, texting him, facebook messaging him, but I never get any reply. I feel like quitting and throwing in the towel. Obviously my brother hates me so much he never wants anything to do with me. What makes it so much worse is that Wren told me nothing I ever did would ever make him stop loving me. I guess he was wrong.

  My mom gives me a tight hug before she walks out of my room. It makes me want to cry. Pretty much anything makes me want to cry these days. Half the time I’m afraid I’ll break down right in class because of something another student has said. That of course will bring down protective Leah, worrying teachers, and sad
parents. Not something I want to have happen. I have been lucky enough to hold it together in school. My house was my one free zone. The one place I could be myself. The one place I could break down completely and not worry about who sees me. That was, until Greyson decided to grace or disgrace my home with his presence.

  I reach for my phone again, this time being able to dial Leah’s number without interruption.

  “Hey boo,” Leah answers on the third ring. “What’s shakin?”

  “Oh you know,” I answer. “Ate dinner. I’ve been doing some homework. Greyson stopped by.”

  “Wait what?” Leah asks. I can practically hear her jerk straight up from whatever she was lying on.

  “Um, yeah. One minute I’m working on homework and the next Greyson is standing in my bedroom telling me how he feels guilty.”

  “O. M. G. Tell me everything. Are you okay? Did he make you cry? Did you throw up in front of him?”

  My mouth gapes open at how perceptive she can be. Clearly she knows me too well.

  “I didn’t call to talk about me, Leah. I appreciate you being there for me, but I realize that I need to be there for you too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Leah asks.

  “I’m talking about the way you have been treating Jesse. You know he isn’t Greyson. You know he knows nothing about Greyson’s involvement. And you know he doesn’t deserve it. So could you cut your brother some slack? You know he loves you. And you know that Jesse has treated me well when he isn’t with the rest of the Posh People.”

  “Man,” Leah says then makes a growling noise. “I just wish he knew. I wish he knew what kind of person Greyson really is. And I wish he knew that it was Greyson so he would be more likely to be more careful.”

  “As much as you and I know about each other, I’m sure Jesse is the only one who truly knows Greyson. And as far as him being more careful, you can use me as an example without him having to know it’s Greyson. But seriously, go talk to him. Tell him you’re sorry.” Leah scoffs at that so I say, “Fine don’t say you’re sorry, but at least talk to him. Make it all go back to normal. I told Greyson that.”