So . . . That Happened

by Laci Maskell

  Tears fall from Wren’s eyes as he walks from his chair over to my bedside. He lies down beside me. I hug him to me and we cry together. I had no idea this has been eating at Wren for three years. The baby kicks my side where Wren hugs me. He looks up at me when he feels it and smiles.

  “I’m so sorry, B. I love you. I’m so sorry I let you down. But I’m going to be here for you and the baby. I’ll be here to love her and watch her grown up.”

  His comment is like a punch to the gut.

  “I’m not keeping the baby,” I tell him.

  “What?”

  “There’s a couple adopting the baby,” I tell him.

  Fresh tears roll down both of our eyes.

  When we have somewhat composed ourselves, Wren says, “Okay. Well, then we had better give that couple a smart baby. While you were sleeping I was reading up about how you can play music to the baby, and read to the baby. Apparently they can absorb a lot inside . . . there,” he says, pointing to my stomach.

  “I missed you so much,” I tell him, hugging him closer to me.

  “So, what have I missed?” Wren asks sarcastically.

  I bark out laughter. Wren took himself out of my life for nearly five months and in five minutes we effortlessly ease back into our rhythm. I missed him so much, but it isn’t until he is back in it that I realize just how much.

  I recount for Wren all that has happened in the past months. Everything from being ostracized at school, Greyson being grateful I told him he didn’t have to worry about being the father, Greyson wanting to be the father, Greyson loving me, how telling his parents went, to going into labor early. He sits in the chair, listening, the whole time. He shifts in his chair, has several different facial expressions – happy to sad to mad to angry to happy to horrified – puts his hands to his face, rests his head in his hands. But he listens intently and doesn’t interrupt once. When I am finished, he looks upset.

  “I am so sorry, B. I was so angry at you and so disappointed in you. I just left you. I am so sorry. I am the worst brother in the world.”

  “All is forgiven,” I tell him.

  “It shouldn’t be. But thank you, B,” Wren says. We sit in silence for a few moments. Then, he says, “So why can’t you forgive Greyson?”

  “He talked to you about it?” I ask in disbelief.

  “It was a long car ride.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I’m not going to let you get away with that,” Wren says, raising an eyebrow.

  “I love him, I do, but I can’t be with him because it hurts too much. It’s like every time I think we can be together we have another setback. One step forward, thirteen steps back, kind of thing. It’s like I’m tethered to him, and sure I could keep up for a little while, but then I tripped and I couldn’t get back up and so now he is dragging me and I’m getting cut up and bruised and I’m slowing him down so I just have to cut the tether, because it hurts too much.”

  “He loves you, Lux. Tell him you’re being dragged and he’ll help you up.”

  Maybe Wren’s right. Greyson really is trying. I still can’t fathom that he drove all the way to Lincoln and back to get Wren for me. I know he loves me and the baby, but why does being with him have to be so hard?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thirty One Weeks

  Lux

  After my almost preterm labor and a three day stay in the hospital, I get to come home, and stay in bed. Bed rest may sound fun, but only for the first few days. Then one becomes stir crazy, as I have.

  Leah and I finished our DWTS marathon but I didn’t get too excited or sad about Donald Driver winning, though I thought Katherine Jenkins should have won. But I didn’t do too much yelling in fear I would go into labor again. I haven’t gotten excited about much in the past few weeks. I stay calm and don’t do anything that might cause stress.

  Leah and Greyson went back to school this week. Leah has been bringing my homework to me. That has been unfortunate. I don’t miss being in school, but I don’t like missing the lectures, which makes doing the homework difficult. Leah is good at helping me.

  Greyson says Mr. Rush has gone back to hating him. We are now reading Thirteen Reasons Why in AP English. I love it. I love that it goes back and forth from the male’s point of view to Hanna’s voice on the tape. Next we are reading The Scorpio Races, which is another book that is told by two different narrators. Having more than one narrator is the best. Greyson also says that life for him in school has gone back to normal with Amelia and Jesse. However, he assures me that he is going to drop the ball on them in no time. I don’t know what to believe, but I try not to think about it. I don’t want to get stressed and raise my blood pressure. I also don’t want to fight with Greyson any longer. If he and I are meant to be, then it will be.

  As for me, life is far from normal. I am a seventeen year old girl, pregnant and on bed rest. All I am allowed to do anymore is lie down. I lie on my bed. I lie on the couch. I lie on the floor with about a billion pillows under me. I lie on my back. On my right side. On my left side. I cannot lie about my lying. I am bored out of my mind. With both of my parents working, Leah and Greyson back in school, and Wren at College, my days are spent home, alone. My mom calls about every hour to check up on me. It’s always the same. I’m fine and I’m bored. I have developed a boredom schedule: wake up at nine a.m. where I eat breakfast, Reese’s Puffs, and watch Anderson, ten is the View, eleven is Live With Kelly, and whatever co-host she has that day, twelve is dinner and the Chew, one is the Talk, two is spent reading, three is Extra, three thirty is reruns of Cash Cab, four is the Ellen show, five is the Big Bang Theory, then my parents get home, we eat supper, Leah brings over my homework, then whatever nightly show is on. I am seventeen years old and my life is spent watching talk shows.

  I take what Wren told me about interacting with the baby more to heart. I’ll play her music by putting my earbuds on my belly. I play her only the good stuff. They say it is smart to play babies Mozart or Chopen, so I do, but I want her to be cultured so I play her my favorite songs from every genre of music. A little Breaking Benjamin, Three Days Grace, Pop Evil, for the rock genre. Then I play her some Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, Kelly Clarkson for the pop genre. A little Alabama, Garth Brooks, and Reba for country. And I even throw a little Eminem in there. I read books to the baby. Winnie The Pooh is a must. Harry Potter is a must. But I also read her books like Tuck Everlasting, and Where The Sidewalk Ends, and the Fox and the Hound. Either the baby likes the sound of my voice or she is going to be a major music loving, book loving nerd like me because she kicks up a storm every time I play her music or read to her.

  At my last doctor’s appointment Dr. Coughlin said that she is going to be a perfectly healthy, happy baby. She said the fact that the baby kicks so often and when I’m interacting with her is a very good sign of brain activity. I don’t claim to be a genius or anything but I am pretty smart so I’m glad to see my smarts seem to have gone to her.

  I just really want to give an amazing kid to Sean and Piper. They are great people and deserve to have the greatest baby. A baby that is mine for only two more months. I try not to think about it too often. I try to cherish every kick and every move she makes. The closer I get to my due date the more connected I feel to her and the more I begin to wonder if I’m doing the right thing by letting her go. I find myself wondering if I can keep her. Greyson and I are a couple now. And though he is going to college, he could come back as often as possible. With his money I wouldn’t have to worry about being able to pay for her so much. I’m sure my parents could help out watching her or I could find a daycare for her. But then I remind myself that I signed the papers relinquishing my rights to her, that she is no longer Greyson’s and my baby, and all the other reasons that made me give her up for adoption in the first place. It breaks my heart, but I have to believe I’m doing the right thing. Leah and Greyson help as much as they can. Leah more so than Greyson. He doesn’t say much about it, but
I know he wishes there was a way we could keep her. He will say things or make small comments about her and I know what he is thinking.

  Greyson comes over to hang out about every other night. On one such night he asked me a question that almost started an argument, only because it touched too close to my heart. He and I were lying on the couch watching a sappy chick flick when he asked what I was going to name the baby. I told him that I wouldn’t be naming the baby because I would not be her mother. Then he asked what I would name her if I did get the chance to name her. With much reluctance, I told him.

  I should never have thought about names for her. I knew from the beginning that she would be adopted and that I would not be able to name her, and yet that knowing did not stop me from thinking of the perfect name for her and wishing I would get to name her.

  This pregnancy has been the worst time of my life. I’ve thrown up more times in the last seven months than I have all of my life. I’ve had cramps. My boobs hurt all the time. I get heartburn that could paralyze a dragon. I have a living thing growing in my stomach that likes to kick her little feet against my ribs. And not only that, but she likes to press down on my bladder and make me pee every five minutes.

  But, besides all that, this pregnancy has been hard for me because I have never before had to worry about someone that wasn’t me so fiercely. The baby may not be mine after it is born, but now, as it sits somewhere above my pelvis, she is my little girl to love and protect and to get to her birth date. I can’t say that I’m doing a very good job. The safety of this baby has been in question more times in the past seven months than any baby’s safety should be. I feel like a failure of a mother. Greyson, Leah, and my parents try to talk me off the ledge, but to no avail. I have failed this baby as her temporary mother. I just hope Piper will be a far better mother to her than I wasn’t.

  ***

  “Are we seriously doing this?” I ask Leah dubiously.

  “You told him yes,” Leah says.

  “Why did I do that again?”

  “Because you love him?” Leah says this like a question.

  Last week, on one of the nights Greyson was over spending time with me, he asked me if I would go to the Valentine’s Day dance at the school. I told him I didn’t want to go. I told him I was on bedrest and couldn’t go. But, good ole Greyson, always getting his way, got permission from my parents, who got permission from my doctor for me to go to the dance. Evil little genius that boy is. I again told him I didn’t want to go. I told him I knew I wouldn’t have any fun. I knew I wouldn’t even get to spend any time with him. But, try as I might, he still talked me into it. He told me I would be doing it for him. He told me he didn’t want to go if I wasn’t there. And, because I am weak around him, I couldn’t tell him that I would love to go if he would break up with Amelia and take me as his date, not his play thing.

  So, Leah and I have spent the last hour getting ready for the dance. I am in no way looking forward to the dance tonight. I won’t be able to dance or even interact with Greyson, and I’ve told Leah to have fun even if I have to sit out most of it. Leah has done my makeup and my hair. My mom and I had to go buy a special dress, a maternity dress because my belly is so large. I feel so fat and ugly. I swear it has grown twice the size in the past three weeks. I can’t even see my feet anymore. The worse thing is I know it’s only going to get bigger.

  When I am all ready for the dance, I sit in the chair in my room while Leah gets ready. Her dress is a floor length green dress with tool all around the bottom and a beaded heart shaped tub top. It is amazingly beautiful. Any guy would be lucky to be her date, many tried, but she turned them down to be my date. Yet another reason Leah is the best best friend in the world. I don’t deserve any of the amazing treatment I’ve gotten from Leah, my parents, or Greyson and yet they still give it freely. I am the luckiest girl in the world to have such great friends and family. And though I am insanely grateful, I am afraid I don’t let them all know how grateful I am.

  “Leah,” I say as she is applying eyeliner.

  “Yes?” she stretches the word curiously.

  “You are the greatest best friend any one could ever ask for and I love you.”

  Leah drops her liner pencil to my desk and turns to me. “I love you too, Lux, but don’t make me cry when my makeup is almost done.”

  “I just want you to know how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

  “Me too, sweetie.”

  Leah turns back to the mirror to finish her makeup. When we are completely ready to go, we venture downstairs to my parents, who have the camera ready. Recently the camera has been filled with pictures of my growing belly. My parents told me that I may not want to document it now, but that in the long run I will be glad to have the pictures. I’m not sure they’re right. Once the baby is gone I’m not sure I want to have the pictures as a reminder of what I lost, what I could have had.

  Leah and I wave goodbye to my parents then head to the impending doom that is the

  Valentine’s Day dance.

  As Leah drives farther from my house and closer to the school, I feel a rising panic start to take hold. My heart steadily beats harder and faster. My palms sweat. My head pounds right behind my eyes. I do my best to hide it from Leah. This is the first school dance I’ve gone to. Leah has always asked if I wanted to go to others before but I’ve always said no. I want her to have a good time and not have to worry so much about me. I feel like my life and my problems take up most of her time. I really need to start paying more attention to what she needs.

  As my panic attack starts to fully take hold of me, my phone vibrates in my hand, distracting me just enough to help me calm down. It’s a text from Greyson that says,

  Can’t wait to see you, pretty girl.

  The text makes me smile and not worry so much about all the things that could and will go wrong at the dance. Like, I know Amelia and Elizabeth will take shots at me for being so fat. I know they will take shots at me for thinking I could be part of my peers and attend the dance at all. I know it will hurt my heart to see the guy I love dancing and kissing another girl. I know it will hurt when Greyson and Amelia are crowned the Sweetheart couple.

  You too,

  I text back.

  I’m not sure what it is about Greyson, but he has a way of exciting me and calming me down all in one.

  I mean, this dance can’t be that bad, right. Leah and Greyson will be there for me if I need them. What could go wrong other than getting picked on by my peers?

  Leah and I enter the dance and the panic that slightly subdued from Greyson’s text is back. Who knew high school dances could be so stress inducing? They look so harmless in the movies. Sure the main character doesn’t want to go for whatever reason she has, but then she goes and finds her self-confidence and her man. Yeah, that’s probably not going to happen in my case.

  Leah and I take a picture together where couples are supposed to take pictures. I didn’t want to but Leah says she wants proof that I actually came to a school dance. I indulge her because this night should not be about me. It should not be about Greyson and me. I want this night to be about Leah. For all she has done for me. For all she has done for me and the baby, and me and Greyson, and me and Greyson and the baby.

  Leah and I find a table to place our coats and purses. Then we find ourselves something to drink, a snack to munch on, and have a seat. Leah has asked me several times if I’m tired or if I need to sit. I assure her I’m doing fine. Which, really, I am. After lying down for three weeks, it feels good to be on my feet for a change.

  Once I have assured Leah that I will be fine, I let her pull me onto the dance floor and let myself act like an idiot to a Katy Perry song. We dance and laugh and I forget for a moment why I hate high school dances. When a slow song comes on we go back to the table so I can rest. That’s when I take a look around the room and realize Greyson isn’t here.

  “They always show up late. Don’t worry about it,” Leah says.


  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, turning my attention back to her.

  She laughs and says, “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  The DJ does a few more rounds of the fast-song-slow-song thing. Leah and I do our rounds of the dancing and the sitting. It works for me. I get to have fun but also don’t have to worry if I’m putting the baby in too much danger. It’s weird, to be seventeen, at a high school dance, and have to worry whether or not I’m putting my baby in danger. But, nonetheless, that is where I’m at.

  Leah makes sure to keep me hydrated and fed. She’s acting more like my parent than my best friend, but I’m sure my parents put her up to it. I do my best to talk about her. I make sure she and Jesse are still on good terms. I thank her for about the billionth time for telling Greyson he could win my affections by bringing Wren home. I would be nowhere right now if it weren’t for her and I need her to know that.

  When the sixth slow song of the night starts to play, the whole gym is filled with a new presence. One that can only be filled by the Posh People. So Greyson has arrived. I sit a little straighter as a chill runs up my spine. I can only think, whether it is in a good way or a bad way, the night has just begun.

  Greyson

  Tonight is the big dance. I know I shouldn’t have asked Lux to come. I knew I wouldn’t be able to be seen with her if I wanted to keep my friends unaware of our relationship. But I was selfish and pressured her into coming. But now that she is, I can’t seem to find guilt in it. I want her there so badly and I can’t wait to see her.

  But first, there’s that pesky thing I have to take care of. My actual girlfriend.

  When I get to Amelia’s house I walk to the door and am met by her father who graciously invites me in. I don’t spend much time with Amelia’s parents, but when I do, they are nice, too nice. I’m sure they can’t wait for their precious Amelia to marry into the Fletcher’s and inherit our fortune.