by Stacia Stone
His easy retreat surprised the hell out of me. I'd spent too much time around Julian and his pathological avoidance of displaying any emotion, much less admitting to ever being in the wrong.
"Don't worry about it." I said and meant it. "It was kind of shitty of me to leave you hanging like that."
He winked at me. "It's okay, I forgive you."
"Friends, then?"
"Definitely." He came up next to me and the front of his shirt brushed my arm, sending a tendril of awareness through me that I wasn't expecting. "But if you ever want more than that, don't forget I'm here."
I turned to stare at him, marveling for a moment at the earnest look on his face. It was such a contrast from the demanding and cocksure manner that Julian had adopted, the attitude that said he would take from me and only give if I begged.
Why couldn't I fall in love with someone like Zach, someone who respected me and treated me like an equal? Someone who didn't just want to use me up and toss me away.
"Why do you like me?" I asked, spontaneously. "The way I've treated you and screwed you around, I don't get it."
He regarded me steadily, the expression in his eyes suddenly serious. I could see the wheels turn behind his gaze as he pondered the question.
"Well you're gorgeous, obviously. But that's not really it. You're sweet, in spite of all the shit that life has thrown at you. But you know how to stand up for yourself when it comes. You're like this soft thing with a core of steel. I don't know, it's hard to get you out of my head."
I kissed him. I don't know where the impulse came from but I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my lips against his in a kiss that's light and chaste. He didn’t push me or try to take it further, just letting the light touch be enough. The hesitancy and obvious respect that he had for me nearly breaks my heart.
Why can't I love him?
I leaned back and pressed my lips together, embarrassed. "I shouldn't have done that."
He smiled wryly. "Can we agree to disagree?"
"I don't want to lead you on," I said, voice soft. "I'm just really confused right now."
Zach reached up to touch my back, slowly enough for me to pull away if I wanted. "I'm here for whatever you need, but I won't push you, okay. Just let me know what you want from me."
I could feel burning tears threatening in the corners of my eyes and I forced them away with an effort. "You're too good for me."
"Once again — agree to disagree."
"I'm really messed up."
"Aren't we all?"
"Let's hurry up and finish," I said, turning back to the cutting board. "Miranda should be here with my mom soon."
"Whatever you say, boss."
And I realized in that moment that I was the boss. Zach would do for me whatever I asked him too and stop when I insisted. He wouldn't push me or force me, but he also wouldn't challenge me. He was too kind, too respectful. He wouldn't ever be able to take me to new heights that I didn't know existed because he didn't have it in him to push me past my breaking point.
He would be a normal boyfriend who wanted normal things — to take me on dates and hold my hand as we walked down the street. And only expecting to get past third base after we’d dated for a reasonable amount of time.
And I knew, with a certainty that settled like a cold weight over my heart, that it wasn't enough for me.
23
I waited outside the classroom for Miranda, not wanting to go inside without her. I checked my watch — five more minutes. I knew she'd been out of school for awhile but I hoped she realized that showing up late didn't usually endear you to the professor.
Most people liked the beginning of school, but my stress level was always highest on the first day of classes. Trying to figure out where to sit and looking out on a sea of unfamiliar faces always put my social anxiety into overdrive.
I wasn't naturally a people person and the thought of having to interact with a several groups of new people had my heart beating too fast and too hard in my chest.
Hopefully, Miranda would get here soon because I wasn't going in without her.
She ran up to the door about a minute later with an apologetic look on her face.
"Sorry," she said, out of breath. "I had to stay a little late today at the diner. Wanted to make sure the new girl knew how to work the fryer without burning the place down.
"Let's just go."
I pushed the classroom door open and was confronted by what looked like a stadium full of people. We were taking Chemistry 101 and this was one of those gigantic lecture halls with seats going up like tiers on each side with narrow steps alongside them. The room could probably seat at least a hundred people and it was nearly full.
"We can sit here in the front," Miranda said, dragging my unwilling body along behind her. "I see two seats."
Of course, she'd want to sit in the front. I hated sitting in the front, preferring the dead center or, if necessary, the back. I didn't like the thought of everyone behind me. Even though I knew logically that no one here cared that I existed, it made me feel like I was on display.
Miranda settled into the seat and pulled a stack of brand new notebooks out of her bag, and then placed them neatly on the desk. She also had a handful of pens in various colors that she lined up in a neat row.
"Prepared much?,” I asked.
"This is my last chance, baby girl. I'm not letting it go to waste.” She opened the notebook and wrote the date neatly on the top of the first page. "Have you started reading the textbook yet?"
"Umm..no. I haven't actually bought any books yet." Without me working or the money from Berkmore, things were tight at home. Momma's disability check covered a lot of the necessities and Luis had really come through with his work at the diner. He'd come home the night before with a bag of groceries that he'd bought himself as a surprise for Momma. She'd been so shocked that she nearly passed out.
Between the last-minute scholarship the school had given me and a little bit of grant money, my tuition was covered but there hadn't been enough left over for books. The financial aid office had told me that I'd get more next year if I got my application in on time, but that didn't really help me for now. I'd have to make do with the library and sharing with Miranda for the time being.
"You can borrow mine after class, but I need it back tomorrow," she said, eyeing the professor who was clicking on the computer at the podium in front. She clearly didn't want to miss even a single moment once class started. "I think our first assignment is due next week."
"You're really taking this seriously," I said, more than a little surprised.
"You should be, too. Weren't you the one who said you didn't want to be a waitress all your life."
I winced a little at her tone. Apparently my comment from a few weeks ago still stung. "Touché."
The professor started class and I pulled my notebook out of my bag as she started handing out the syllabus. I had to force myself to pay attention, thinking it was probably a bad idea to restart my academic career with a science class. But Miranda had insisted on this class, saying that it was a prerequisite for a bunch of the other classes she needed to apply for the nursing program.
I balked a little at the thought — wounds and blood and bodily fluids, no thank you. She was on her own with the whole nursing thing. But what did I want to do instead? I didn't have the slightest idea. None of the programs being offered by the community college seemed even a little bit appealing, especially when I would have to transfer to a university at some point regardless.
None of it will matter in nine months anyway, an evil voice inside of me cooed.
Eight months now, I realized with a start. I reached down to brush my hand over my stomach which was still flat. I was still holding onto the irrational idea that it had to be some sort of mistake, that any day now I would start my period and prove the doctors with their stupid tests completely wrong.
Except deep down, I knew that wasn't true. I was pregnant. Ignoring it wasn
't going to make the problem go away.
What would Julian say if he knew? Would he want to be a part of the baby's life or would he just be angry at me for forcing him back into mine, even temporarily.
You were the one who walked away, came the voice again.
I walked away because he forced me, because he was never going to see me as anything more than a convenient plaything. Because it had never mattered to him what I wanted.
And what if he did want the baby badly enough to want me too. Could I accept that? Could I be like his last wife and spend my days waiting for him to remember I existed until the loneliness slowly drove me insane.
No. I couldn't.
A boy sitting on the other side of me from Miranda pulled a one of those gas station meat sticks out of his bag and opened it. I heard the snick of the plastic separating only moments before the offensive smell of cured meat and salt assailed my nostrils.
My stomach heaved, once and then twice. I fought a wave of nausea. He brought the stick to his lips and gnawed on it, making a sound that was wet and sloppy.
I leapt from my char and practically ran to the door. I heard Miranda's surprised gasp but there wasn't time to explain anything to her. I had less than ten seconds before the entire contents of my stomach found its way back out.
Luckily, the first floor women's bathroom was only a few doors away and I remembered passing it on the way in. I barely made it into the stall, dropped on my knees to the sticky floor before I puked yellow chunks of digested food into the toilet.
After a few seconds, I was merely dry-heaving with nothing left inside of me to expel. My stomach continued to spasm in a frantic rhythm. Eventually, I rested my head against the wall of the stall, trying not to think of how disgusting it was to be sitting on the bathroom floor.
Two girls came out of the stalls at the end and I heard them murmuring to each other as they passed.
"Are you okay?" One of them called, reluctantly.
"I'm fine," I managed to say on a croaking breath.
"Do you want some gum or something?"
"You're not supposed to enable bulimics," the other girl said in a faux-whisper.
"Are you bulimic?"
"No," I said, too loud, but just wanting them to go away. "Please leave me alone."
"Whatever, bitch." They both laughed and I heard them saying something catty that I couldn't quite make out as they walked away.
I came out of the stall slowly, still feeling woozy and supporting myself with a hand on the side of the stall as the room slowly spun around me before righting itself. I went to the sink and splashed cold water in my face and rinsed out my mouth, but it wasn't really enough to make me feel any better.
"There you are." Miranda exploded into the bathroom with enough force that the door hit the wall behind it with a loud bang. "Oh my God, are you okay?"
I swallowed hard. "I'm okay."
"Why'd you run out of class like that?" She looked behind me and into the stall. I'd flushed the toilet but the sickly sweet smell of vomit still hung in the air. "Were you throwing up?"
I couldn't see a point of hiding it from her and I was too exhausted too lie. "Yeah, don't worry about."
"Don't worry about it," she repeated incredulously. "Are you sick?"
"No, I'm fine." I quickly washed my hands and picked up the bag that I'd dropped on the floor when I ran in. "Let's just go back to class."
"Hold on. Wait." She touched my forehead with the back of her hand before moving to my cheeks. "You don't feel hot. Did you eat something that had gone bad today? Maybe we should go to the school clinic."
I pulled away from her. "You're not a nurse yet, Miranda. There's nothing wrong with me."
She gripped me hard by the upper arms, her piercing gaze sharp enough that it felt like she was looking right through me. "You're lying."
I shook my head but I could feel a lump growing in my throat. I knew if I tried to speak that the only thing that came out would be a sob.
Miranda gave me a long once-over, her gaze traveling from the top of my head to my feet. I watched the thoughtful expression on her face slowly transition into something that almost looked like resignation.
"You're pregnant, aren't you?" She asked softly.
I yanked my arms out of her grip and fled the bathroom. I made it down the hallway and out to the parking lot of the school before she caught me.
"Dalea, stop. You need to talk to me."
She grabbed my arm, forcing me to spin around and face her. Tears were already streaming down my face, clouding my vision. But I could still see clearly enough to make out the concerned expression on her face.
When she wrapped her arms around me in a hug, I let her because I didn’t have the strength to do anything else. The emotions rolling through me were nearly overwhelming — shame, sadness and a fear so profound that it threatened to drown me.
Miranda led me to a grassy area where people went to smoke. It was deserted at the moment since classes were still in session. She sat us down on a stone bench underneath an oak tree.
I sobbed into her shoulder, letting out all of the emotions that I'd been keeping bundled up inside. After a time, I realized that relief was mixed in there, as well, because I finally had someone to share the burden that I'd been carrying. At least, I no longer had to deal with it alone.
She waited until I had cried myself out and my breathing was only occasionally punctuated with a sobbing gulp of air.
"Is it his? Is it Julian's?"
"How can you even ask me that?" I asked, swiping at my face with the back of my hand. "Who else's would it be."
"That boy, Zach, has been hanging around a lot lately."
"Miranda!"
"Sorry, I just wanted to know." She rubbed my back in a comforting circle that reminded me of being rocked to sleep as a child. "Does he know?"
I made a rude sound. "Of course not."
"Are you going to tell him?”
"There's no point. He either wouldn't care or he'd want to take it away."
She cocked her head at me. "So you're planning on keeping it?"
"No...I don't know." I sighed. "I haven't really thought that far ahead."
“How long have you known."
"Since the night that I came back to town. I collapsed when I went to see Momma and they sent me to the emergency room. I guess it's just one of the tests that they always do."
"That was almost two weeks ago," she exclaimed. "Have you had an ultrasound or anything?"
"Not yet."
"Well, I guess that's what we're doing with the rest of our day." She hauled me up by one arm. I let her propel me forward like a rag doll, no fight left in me to try and resist. "I hope you're at least taking those vitamins for pregnant ladies. You're gonna mess around and give birth to a baby with a tail."
"I've been taking vitamins. Jeez Miranda, relax."
"Don't tell me to relax. I stop paying attention to you for one minute and you run off and get yourself pregnant. Didn't your momma ever teach you about safe sex?"
Momma and I had never had the sex talk, not really. She'd make vague comments about the things that boys wanted, but she'd never paid much attention to what I was doing. And the only boyfriend that I'd ever had took my virginity in a five-minute exercise in the back of his car that had been the opposite of climactic.
"You're gonna be the death of me, girl." Miranda said, breathing a little too hard as we climbed the hill towards her car. "You don't have any more surprises for me, do you?"
"No, that's it."
I prayed that telling her the truth wouldn't be something I'd regret. Miranda had this look in her eye, like I was a problem that she was determined to fix.
And I wasn't convinced that my problems could be fixed.
The waiting room for the OB section at the free clinic was full of girls, some my age and some even younger. Doctor's offices were always quiet but this place was different. The air was tainted with a feeling of withdrawn acceptan
ce, and I had the feeling that none of us were here because we wanted to be.
If Miranda noticed the mood, she was good at ignoring it. A parenting magazine was in her lap and she flipped idly through it, seemingly engrossed in the 20 Best Halloween Costumes for Kids Under $20.
I felt myself shivering in the seat next to her and I couldn't stop the convulsive movements. She was forcing me to face things head on and I wasn't sure that I was ready for it.
Maybe I've miscarried, I thought with a wild desperation. I'd read somewhere that more than half of pregnancies end in the first few weeks, a lot of times before the woman even realized she'd conceived. I hadn't had a period in weeks, but that might not mean anything because they'd always been irregular.
By some miracle, I could get up on that table and the doctor wouldn't be able to find any sign of life in my womb, even with all of their fancy equipment. I could walk out of this clinic and forget this all ever happened.
When have you ever been that lucky?
"Moreno?" A nurse wearing baby-blue scrubs called, reading my name off of the clipboard in her hand.
I stood slowly and Miranda got up with me. I thought about asking her to wait out here but I knew she'd fight me on it and it wasn't worth the fallout. Plus, did I really want to go through with this alone?
The nurse raised her eyebrows when Miranda followed me through the door to the hallway of exam rooms, but whatever she was thinking she kept to herself.
"You're here in room 2," she said after weighing me on an old scale in the hallway. "The doctor will be into see you in a few minutes."
Miranda took the chair in the corner and I hoisted myself onto the exam table, the rough paper they'd put over it scratchy against my skin. The door closed behind the nurse and I let out a shaky breath.
"Are you nervous?" Miranda asked.
"No," I lied. "It is what it is."
She picked up a pamphlet, simply labeled You Have Options... and flipped through it. "Have you thought about what you're going to do?"