by Laci Maskell
Lux is wearing an outfit I’m sure she didn’t wear to school today, sweatpants and a loose fitting t-shirt. It surprises me to think that they are cute on her. I would never think that sweatpants and a loose t-shirt are cute on Amelia. Messed up. But Lux looks so relaxed. I know I’ve thought that before. The last time I was here. But it’s true. Her hair is in a loose ponytail and her glasses sit down on her nose. And though it looks so pedestrian and shows the reason she is not among my group of friends, she looks so cute. And I hate it. I shouldn’t be thinking Lux is cute. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. I shouldn’t have to remind myself constantly that I already have a girlfriend.
Before I can be considered a stalker and before she can catch me staring, I say, “Hey, pretty girl.”
Lux’s head whips over to eye her door. She stills for a moment then steps off her bed, walks to the door, and slams it in my face.
Lux
What is Greyson doing at my house? Again?
I cannot escape him.
Shouldn’t he be hanging out with his friends or his girlfriend?
I thought I had dodged him for at least today when he didn’t show up for school. It was so nice. I didn’t have to see him and Amelia together. I didn’t have to wish that he would do to me everything he did to her. I didn’t have to hear the entire school worship him.
I was free, for an entire day. And now here he is.
I slam the door in his face, hoping he will go away.
“I’m not leaving,” he says from the other side of it.
Darn. So much for that plan.
I stand in my room facing the door I shut in Greyson’s face. I don’t want to talk to him. Maybe I don’t have to. Maybe if I stay quiet long enough he will get tired of this and leave. Maybe.
It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t yell at each other every time we talked. If we could have an actual conversation without raising our voices then we would be fine. But no. Greyson confronts me about something. I get defensive because I don’t feel I’ve done anything wrong. Then starts the yelling. Then comes more yelling. Then ends the conversation with no resolution. Productive talkers we are. But other than the night when I told him about the baby, I have not been the one to initiate the conversation. And I don’t know why Greyson continues to want to talk to me. For a guy who wants nothing to do with this baby or me, he sure has a lot to say about it.
Greyson bangs his head against the door to inform me of his presence.
Dang. The silence didn’t work.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I want to talk to you,” he says.
“Why?”
“You could let me in and I could tell you.”
“Not going to happen.”
“What is with you?” Greyson asks, surprising me. “I have said I am sorry for every wrong thing I have done to you and yet it is never enough. Why do you hate me so much?”
Anger surges through me. What is with me? If he didn’t want to know, why is he here? I move for the door and fling it open to find Greyson sitting on the floor, his face turned up to look at me.
“Is that a serious question?” I ask, slamming the door again.
It’s times like these I like that my parents are willing to give me my space and work through things. They know that if I need them I will call for them. Though I’m sure with my door slammed twice now they want to come up and inspect.
“Let me enlighten you,” I say to the door.
I take a deep breath, trying to collect my thoughts without doing the yelling thing. The thing I really want to do right now.
“Maybe because we had sex one night and then you ignored me for three months only to talk to me again when I tell you I’m carrying your baby. Maybe because you knocked me up. Maybe because you can forget about it. Maybe because I have to live with what we did under my shirt and you can walk around like nothing ever happened. Maybe because my brother won’t speak to me. Maybe because your friends and your girlfriend make fun of me every second of every day in that Hell hole of a school. Is that enough reasons? Or shall I continue?” I don’t mention the fact that I hate him because I am in love with him. I don’t want to be. I so don’t want to be. But I can’t help myself. I had to slam the door in his face again because that backwards look he gave me when I opened it was too cute to stand and still be mad at him.
It feels so good to tell him every reason I hate him. Although I’m sure I’ve already done it in some shape or form. But to have every detail of it out feels liberating.
Greyson knocks on the door and says, “Will you open the door, please.”
I’m afraid to. Not because I think he’ll take a swing at me, which should be a fear. But because I’m afraid I may have hurt his feelings. And what kind of bullshit fear is that to have right now?
But, against my better judgment, because apparently I don’t have any of that around him, I open the door and stand back for him to enter my room. I cross my arms over my chest, an act of defiance and protection.
Greyson steps in, looks at me, and says, “I know I have said this before, and I know you don’t believe me, but I am sorry. I’m a shitty person. My friends are shitty people. I didn’t realize that until you came along. Or maybe I didn’t care. But I do now. I have treated you horribly. I know that. I can’t make up for the past. But I am trying to be better with you. Can’t you see that? I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Can you at least give me a break and let me try to be nicer to you?”
I wasn’t expecting all that. I’m glad Greyson has realized what an ass he has been but can I really trust him to be a better person from now on? I’m not sure I can. I know he’s still not going to acknowledge me at school. I know he still won’t tell his friends or his parents that he is the father. I know that nothing will change between he and Amelia. So how could I trust him to be better to me?
“I have to be honest. Every time I throw up, I hate you. Every time my brother calls and won’t talk to me, I hate you. Every time Elizabeth calls me a wide load or Tyler calls the baby a bastard, I hate you. But I know that you don’t make my brother hate me. And I know you don’t control what pops out of your friends’ mouths. So I can’t promise you that I can just let everything go like nothing ever happened. But I will try.”
Greyson’s shoulders sag and he says, “That’s all I’m asking for.”
“Okay,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else to say.
“Okay,” Greyson answers.
We are silent for a long time. I want to sit on my bed and return to my homework but I don’t want to force Greyson to leave after we’ve had an almost amicable conversation. So I wait for him to do something.
“Can I sit down?” he asks after a while.
“Sure,” I say, glad he asked so that I can sit down.
I sit down on the edge of my bed while Greyson takes the desk chair.
More silence follows. Greyson plays with his hands. I’ve never seen him more nervous than when he is with me. Actually I’ve never seen him nervous before. So the fact that he is nervous with me is odd. Greyson watches me and I’m not sure what I should do. I could go back to my homework but that seems rude. But I don’t know what I should say to him. I could ask him why he wasn’t in school today, since he doesn’t appear ill, but that doesn’t seem like my place. More like Amelia’s. The silence is so awkward it is almost painful. I’m sure Leah would know what to do right now.
I look around my room, maybe for a topic of conversation but still get nothing. Greyson notices me doing so and must finally get the courage to say something.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, knowing that this is never good.
Greyson puts his hands up in defense, which I find weird, and says, “Before I say anything, I don’t want this to become a screaming match. I will say what I feel and you can say what you feel but I don’t want either of us to feel we have to yell at each other.”
&nb
sp; “Okay.”
“Also, I got my intel from Jesse and while I’m sure you are going to tell Leah everything that happens tonight, I don’t want it to affect Leah and Jesse’s relationship again. They don’t have to suffer because of what you and I do.”
“That is oddly noble of you to say,” I tell him.
“I told you I was working on this.”
“You did.”
“So, no arguing and no hate for best friend’s siblings.”
“No,” I say, wondering where this is going.
“Okay,” Greyson says, sitting up straighter in the chair. The nervous look is back. “I know . . . I wish . . . I heard . . . ,”
“Get on with it, Greyson,” I snap, then regret it because of the no arguing clause. “Sorry.”
“I wish you would have told me about the adoption,” he says, sagging in the chair once again.
So Jesse did hear me. Damn. It’s odd though that he would have told Greyson. Why would he have told him.
“Did you tell Jesse that you’re the father?” I ask, feeling some flicker of hope in that.
“No. He was drunk and it slipped out. He doesn’t know.”
The flicker goes out. Of course he wouldn’t even tell his best friend about me and the baby. He’s still too ashamed. I’m sure he parked around the corner like he did last time. He wouldn’t be caught dead with his car in front of my house. No, we can’t associate with the pregnant girl. I gnash my teeth to rid myself of the urge to yell at him.
“So why didn’t you tell me?” Greyson asks, his eyebrows furrowed.
I sit back on my pillow, needing a small bit of comfort to answer him. “We haven’t exactly had the best track record. You don’t want any part of this baby’s life and yet everything that happens regarding the baby, you yell at me. This is my life and my baby and if you still don’t want anything to do with it, then you get no say in what I do with it. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“So you’re doing it? Giving it away?” his tone is harsh and judgmental.
“I’m not just giving it away. I have a meeting with the adoption agency and I’m going to meet with couples who want to adopt the baby. I’m going to pick a couple I think is going to give this baby financial comfort and a loving home. I’m going to make sure the baby gets everything I can’t give it.”
I look at Greyson to gauge his reaction, but I can’t get a read off of him. His sits with his elbows on his knees, his hands folded together.
“What if,” Greyson begins, then pauses. “What if I don’t want you do give it away?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, once again my anger rising, but also my curiosity.
“I don’t know how I feel right now. I don’t know how I feel at all anymore, and I just think we should think about this.”
“First of all,” I say, making sure not to yell at him, “there is no we. And second, I have thought about this. I have thought about this a lot. I have weighed all my options. I have put aside my love for this baby to do what is right for it. Adoption is what is right for this baby. How am I supposed to take care of it? What, do you want it? How are you going to go to college, play football, have a life, and take care of a baby?”
“I didn’t say I wanted it,” Greyson says, raising his voice. It’s not so easy not to yell at each other. “I just said we should think about it.”
“And I said I’ve thought about it.”
“Damn it, Lux.”
Greyson grips his hands into fists and takes deep breaths. We are both angry and both trying not to yell at each other. It is so much harder than one would imagine. And yet funny. It is so funny I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Greyson’s head whips up to see me laughing. I’m sure he’s about ready to scream at me at any moment. But he surprises me by laughing along with me.
After a bout of laughter he asks, “What are we laughing at?”
“I don’t know,” I choke out. “But it’s funny.”
That brings on more laughter until we finally stop.
“Listen. Adoption is the best option for everyone involved. My parents don’t have to shell out money they don’t have to raise a baby that isn’t theirs. You get to go off and be this huge football star you want to be. I get to go back to teenage normalcy as it is for me. And the baby gets a good life. Win, win . . . win . . . win.”
“You’re sure? This is for sure what you want to do? You’ve made up your mind completely?”
“I’m sure. It’s what’s best.”
“Okay,” he says, though he doesn’t sound too sure about it.
Greyson confuses me more and more every time I talk to him. He wants to get back to his life and pretend this never happened, and yet every time he hears something knew about the baby he is eager to jump on me about it. Why can’t he just leave it alone? Is he trying to control me? Is he worried about the baby? Could he actually care about me in some way? I don’t know any answers to any of these questions. And Greyson does nothing to shed light on any of my confusion. No, he simply adds to it.
After a while of silence and more awkwardness, Greyson leaves. But not before we agree to try to be nicer to each other. I feel like it is going to be more difficult than either of us realizes, but I think we both need it. I know I need it. Dr. Coughlin reminds me to be mindful of my stress every time I see her. And I can’t say I’ve been doing a good job of it. Because let’s be honest, who could keep their stress level under control when they are pregnant, have feelings for the baby’s father when said baby’s father has a girlfriend, and when they get harassed every day in high school? Easy, right? Wrong.
Chapter Ten
Seventeen Weeks
Lux
I sit in the small waiting room as nervous as I have ever been.
There are pictures on the walls of smiling, happy families. It makes me wonder how happy my baby will make some couple. My mom, dad, and I sit in chairs only a foot or two away from the reception desk. I would really like to talk to my parents right now, maybe convince them to make a run for it, but I know the receptionist will hear me. So instead, I look around for a magazine or something to occupy my mind. The only things I find are parenting magazines and pamphlets on various things from adoption, abortion, and government assistance.
I really wish the adoption agency person would come out and get us so we can get this over with.
I look over at my parents who seem to have mastered the art of talking in hushed tones. It must come with adulthood. Leah and I couldn’t speak quietly if our lives depended on it.
I take a deep breath, let it out, then start counting the ceiling tiles, because that is what I do. After tile seventeen, a door opens and out pops a lady in her mid-thirties with shoulder length brown hair and a sharp gray business suit. “Lux?” she asks.
I raise my hand then lower it because I’m not in school. My parents and I stand up and follow behind the lady.
“I’m your adoption agent Kristina Noel,” she says from in front of us. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Kristina leads us to an office three doors down from the one we entered. Her office is sparse. There is one picture of a happy family, a few framed certificates and a bookshelf. I’m not sure why she has a bookshelf. There isn’t much on it besides her diploma, a couple books I don’t care to read the spine, and a picture of herself, a man, and a small child. She shakes my parents’ hands, introducing herself to them, then mine. I feel bad because my hands are sweaty. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything. Kristina pulls up three chairs to her desk then we all take a seat.
“So. Lux. I understand you are looking to have your baby adopted.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, through a lump in my throat.
“Oh, honey, you can call me Kristina.”
When I don’t say anything back to her she continues.
“First, I will run you through a few of the regulations and procedures. We have some forms for you to fill out and papers for you to sign. But when that is all finished, we
have narrowed down three candidates we would like you to meet. Does all of that sound okay to you?”
I nod, because I can’t find words. My mom saves me by asking questions I never would have thought to ask. I drift off, not listening, to think about the three couples I will soon meet. Couples who could soon have a baby. My baby.
What do I say to these people? How do they choose who gets the baby? Do I choose who gets the baby? How am I supposed to decide that?
“Are you ready to meet them, Lux?”
I snap to attention. What did she ask? “Yes,” I say, though I’m not sure what I’m saying yes to.
“Lux, you seem . . . distracted,” my mom says.
“You okay, kiddo?” my dad asks.
I do my best to shake off my nerves and give them a reassuring smile and say, “I’m good.”
“Great,” Kristina says. “The couples are in meeting rooms. You will meet one at a time with them. I will be attending with you in case any one has any questions or concerns. Feel free to ask these couples anything. And remember these people want to be your baby’s parents, but you must also want them to be your baby’s parents.”
I smile at her though my stomach is twisting in knots.
We walk down the hallway to a door. My heart slams into my rib cage when Kristina opens it. A man and a woman stand up as the door reveals them. I instantly recognize them as one the couples from the website. I can’t remember their names until Kristina introduces them as Fred and Nancy. They were the couple with the perfect picture.
I walk into the room behind my parents. The couple shakes my parents’ hands. Not sure what to do, I move to shake their hands but when I get to them Nancy pulls me in for a hug. It weirds me out for a moment because I don’t know these people, but I let it slide and hug her back. Fred looks unsure about what to do. We settle for a light handshake with Fred using both hands to shake mine. Then we sit around a large table you see in movies that are used for people in lawsuits and such. Fred and Nancy sit on one side of the table, my parents and I on the other, while Kristina takes a seat at the end of the table.