by Gail Haris
“I’m ready to go meet our mini Randall.”
“Meet our little dragonfly.”
“Our what?”
“You’re going to meet our little dragonfly. That’s what he or she reminds me of. A little dragonfly swooshing around in there.” I smile and gently rub my tummy.
“Most people say they feel butterflies in their stomach.”
“That’s if you’re nervous.” I open the car door and step out. Even though I totally referred to my little bundle of joy as a butterfly, at first, and most pregnancy magazines I’ve read also referred to it as feeling like butterflies.
Trent walks around to the front of the car and stands next to me. I jump a little, when his low voice whispers in my ear, “don’t think it went unnoticed you said our.”
“I would’ve said the same to Alice.”
He nods, but gives me a smirk that says he’s not convinced. Trent opens the door for me and says, “if it’s a he, then we’ll start calling him a dragon. Where did dragonfly come from?”
“I’ll tell you inside; otherwise, we’ll miss my appointment.” We hurry in and go to the desk to sign in. After we take a seat in the waiting room, I retell the whole story of watching dragonflies when I first felt the baby move. When they call my name, Trent and I both share a moment, looking at each other with both excitement and nerves. The nurse repeats my name, and we both stand acknowledging her. After they go through the routine exam, get my weight, and ask a few routine questions, they finally lead us to the ultrasound room.
Doctor Johnson comes in and greets us. Trent watches in fascination when she lifts my shirt and applies the cold gel. When she places the wand on my belly, I look over at him. “This is it.”
He barely nods because his eyes are transfixed on the monitor. She begins moving the wand, and we watch as our little one becomes visible on the screen. I turn my eyes from the screen to watch Trent’s face glow with astonishment. His eyes become glassy at hearing his baby’s heartbeat. A huge grin stretches across his face, and his large hand covers my stomach.
“Trent, you’re getting the gel all over you.”
He never takes his eyes off the monitor as he whispers, “I don’t care.” He scoots his face closer toward my stomach and peers at the monitor. “That’s—that’s our baby.”
I place my hand over his and turn my eyes to the monitor. I want so badly to tell him.
Right now. This is the moment. I could just look over and say That’s your baby. I open my mouth, but the words get lodged in my throat.
I turn my head back to the monitor, and a single tear slides down my cheek. I’ve made such a mess of things. I should’ve told him from the beginning, but I let everything else—everyone else—stop me. Worse, I let my own insecurities prevent me. I have no excuses, and I feel ashamed. My eyes, once again, turn to the monitor. This time it’s easy to make out the baby’s body parts. The precious head and active little arms and legs. My little dragonfly. Not the size of a dragonfly anymore. We watch, captivated, by the little jerky movements.
The doctor’s voice breaks through our trance. “Would you like to know the gender?”
We both look at each other grinning. Then, like in a cheesy movie, we let out a little laugh of excitement and tell her yeah! I’m about to pee myself from the anticipation as she moves the wand around some more. Well, I’m also about to pee myself because of the position of the baby.
“I’m going to apply a little pressure here to get the baby to move. I want to be sure.”
Trent becomes alarmed and speaks to the doctor in a firm voice. “Don’t hurt her or the baby. We don’t want to know that bad.”
She doesn’t take any offense and smiles at him good naturedly. “Sir, I’ve been doing this for a long time. I promise this won’t hurt either one of them. In fact,” she smiles at me, “if you ever want to feel the baby move, you can gently press against your belly, like I’m doing now. But if you’re uncomfortable with that, drinking a cold drink might do the trick.”
Trent watches her closely, as though he’s still unsure of our child’s safety. I watch between her and the monitor, until she pauses the wand. I focus completely on her lips as she speaks, “A boy. You’re having a little boy.”
A boy. A sweet baby boy. My moment is interrupted when Trent whispers in awe, “a dragon.”
Doctor Johnson and I both stare at Trent. Realization dawns on me, and I laugh, slapping his shoulder. “Dragonfly. It doesn’t feel like a dragon in there.”
I give her the shortened version of how I started referring to the baby as my dragonfly. I don’t want her thinking we’re a couple of crazies. She prints us some pictures of my sweet baby boy. As we exit the room, I begin thinking about a dragonfly-themed nursery.
Nursery. I haven’t thought where the nursery is going to be. One day at a time. Let’s relish this joyous moment. Tomorrow, I can focus on a nursery and names. One day at a time.
“Who do you want to tell first?” Trent asks me as he takes my keys and walks around to the driver’s side.
“Let’s tell—” I stop myself. I don’t want to tell Trent about my parents. “How about over Thanksgiving?”
His eyes search mine. “You want me to be there, too?”
“You’ve been there for everything else.”
“That’s too far away. Let’s pick up Alice and drive back home. We can all go out to eat somewhere and then tell everyone over dinner. What do you think?”
His enthusiasm is contagious. But I haven’t spoken to my parents. Trent gives our entwined hands a little tug. “Come on? I can’t hold it in.”
I agree. It’s an hour and a half drive, but I want to tell everyone in person. Trent’s right; it’s too exciting to wait. We both call our parents as we’re driving to pick up Alice. Luckily, Trent’s parents agree to meet in a town that’s halfway for both of us. My parents don’t answer my call. I hadn’t tried to call since our conversation, but I kind of hoped they would answer today. Maybe if they knew it was a boy… That they’re having a grandson… I’m excited, and I just want to share my news.
“They must have their phones on silent or on the charger,” I tell Trent. I know they’re probably just ignoring my call.
“We can wait.”
“No. Let’s tell your family.”
Trent takes my hand. “You know they’re not just my family. You’ve always been one of us.”
When we arrive at the little bistro, everyone is already there, bouncing with anticipation. Two seconds after the last order is given to the waitress, Trent bursts. “It’s a boy!”
I gasp and playfully slap his shoulder. “Trent!”
“I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t hold it in any longer.”
They all cheer, along with other restaurant patrons. Immediately, everyone begins discussing names, clothes, and nursery themes. Nursery themes. I knew it was coming, as soon as the topic shifted in that direction. Denise is the one to address the elephant in the room. “Where are you going to keep the baby?”
Trent grumbles, while chewing on a cheese stick, “it’s not a pet, Denise. We’re not going to keep it somewhere, like you’d get a kennel for a dog.”
We?
Denise reaches across the table and grabs a cheese stick, taking a big bite. Between bites, she says, “No, you keep it in a crib. Although, wouldn’t a cage be safer?”
Trent rolls his eyes at his younger sister. Everyone else is staring at me, waiting for me to announce where the nursery will be.
Where will it be? Certainly not my dorm room, which means I need to move out next semester. Alice! What will she do about a roommate? This has snowballed and is having quite the domino effect on everyone in my life. The waitress arrives with our orders.
“There’s plenty of time to decide that,” Trent announces, in a tone that indicates the subject is over. Denise gladly accepts it and begins talking about how she can’t wait to go to college.
“I’m so ready to get away from everyone. I want to
go somewhere where I don’t know a single person.” She wants to start touring campuses, as soon as possible, because Lumberton High School is the worst.
“Would you rather transfer to the private school? I went to school there and loved it,” Melissa asks.
Denise’s eyes go wide. “Absolutely not! Mom. You know that’s where Luke went to school…He was their star athlete. Pretty sure, if I went there, it would be even worse.”
Melissa tilts her head. “Honey, you used to love school. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. High school just isn’t what I expected it to be. I’m thinking about dropping cheer.” Denise begins moving food around on her plate.
“What?” Melissa gasps.
“Mom. It’s not a big deal. Drop it. Please.”
I can tell Melissa doesn’t want to drop the subject, but it’s clear Denise is over it. My mind is still racing with scenarios for this baby. There’s another subject change, but it only offers minor relief from the awkwardness that’s still hanging in the air.
“You have to tell him.”
I bow my head in my hands. “I know, Alice. I know. Now that it’s gone on so long, it’s worse.”
“Well, if you wait until the baby’s born, it’ll be even worse.”
“I will.”
Alice gives me a doubtful look. She reaches next to her on the park bench and grabs her bag. “I’ve got to get to soccer practice. Wanna walk back to campus together?”
“No. I’m going to sit here and pout.”
I’ve got to figure out how I’m going to support my baby. The money I had saved is dwindling away. Bexley is supposed to bring me an application, but I’m not sure how many hours I’ll get. I swipe my phone and go through all the campus job applications. If I can work on campus, then I won’t have to use any gas. I’m in my fifth month of pregnancy and not much more prepared for this baby than I was the day I found out I was going to be a mother. The only thing that’s changed is my stomach size.
“Hey, there!”
I look up to find Bexley. She shrugs out of her backpack and sits down next to me. Unzipping her bag, she pulls out the application. “Here you are.”
“That’s so strange. I was just thinking about you.”
“That’s not so strange. Most people, after meeting me, keep thinking about me.” I’m not sure what to say to that; fortunately, she bursts out laughing. “I’m joking! Still worrying over a job? I told you that you’re a shoo-in already.”
I sigh. “My life is a little more complicated than most.”
Bexley studies me, and then she turns her body toward mine. “Do you have cancer? Terminal illness? Are you being blackmailed by the mob? Is there a hitman after you? Are you fleeing from a cult?”
“Um, no. I’m actually pregnant…and I’m not sure what I want to do.”
Bexley nods. “What do you mean, you’re not sure what you want? I mean—what does your heart tell you?”
“It’s not that simple.”
Bexley scoffs. “Chicka, this is your baby and your body. And you strike me as the type of badass that if you want to do something, then you do it.”
Who the hell is this girl? My eyes widen in disbelief. “Badass, I’m not.”
She shrugs and sarcastically declares, “must’ve been another Ying that graduated high school a whole fucking year early.”
“Whoa. You have a mouth on you.”
Bexley dies laughing. “Oh, Rachel. You are a trip. Gosh, you’re such a little southern belle.”
“I’m not even really from the South. More like the Midwest. Where are you from?”
“Arizona. Everyone keeps complaining about the heat here, little pansies.” She smiles at me, and I can’t help but return it. “Okay. So, you’re pregnant at seventeen. I know that seems like a scandal, but I’m pretty sure my grandma was pregnant at sixteen and had like ten kids. She lived a long, healthy and happy life with my grandpa. I think she was drunk through a lot of it, but I’m not judging because—hello—ten kids. She used to spike her coffee, and she had her afternoon ‘juice.’ We all knew she did it.”
“Yeah, but no offense, did she complete college with all those kids.”
“Are you for real? Rachel, do you know what year it is? Women can do anything. I can’t even believe I’m having to explain this to you. Snap out of it, Chicka. You can do whatever the fuck you want, as long as you have the balls to go for it.” She tilts her head and stares at me for a moment. “Why are you making that face?”
“I can’t believe how you’re talking…”
“You don’t curse?”
“I mean I do. My mom always taught me not to be so open about it.”
“Oh, she taught you to be a hypocrite.”
“No!”
“Then what? You know what, that’s not important right now. Actually, how did your mom take the news of your pregnancy?”
“Disappointed. Upset. Heartbroken. She wants me to terminate the pregnancy or give the baby up for adoption. That or marry someone to take care of us.”
“Well, that’s some bullshit. My mom was up for whatever. I decided to give my baby up for adoption.”
I gasp. “You had a baby?”
“I did. I was in high school. Peer pressured into having sex, but get pregnant, you’re shunned. You can sleep with the whole football team, and people see nothing wrong with it, but sleep with your boyfriend and get pregnant—then you’re a slut.” She cuts her eyes to me. “I didn’t sleep with the whole team, only half.”
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Kidding. But who gives a fuck, if I did? Anyway, I got pregnant. But I wasn’t like you. I knew what I wanted.” Bexley takes a deep breath. “Rachel. I don’t know you that well, but I can look at you and see that you’re a hot mess right now. You need to realize two things: one, this is your life, and every decision you make, you need to ask yourself, ‘will this make me happy?’ Stop doing shit to make others happy, unless it’s going to make you happy, too.”
“That sounds kind of selfish.”
“It’s your life. I didn’t say go around and be an ass to everyone in order to be happy, but don’t cater to assholes, either, just to make them happy. Don’t do anything for someone else that you’ll regret.” She looks me directly in the eyes, and with passion evident in her voice, she says, “two, you only live once.”
“That’s the same as one.”
“The hell it is! Some people live their life, but do they truly live it. It’s your life, and you only get one go. Make it one that’s going to be happy and lived to the fullest. You want to keep this baby? Keep it. Raise your baby and get your degree like the badass you are. And if you’re not ready for a baby? There are so many people out there who would love and cherish your baby. Either way—you have choices. The main thing to ask yourself is if this is the life you want and are you going to be able to live with your choices? That’s it. It’s not your mom who’s going to live your life. It’s not me. It’s not that dude walking his dog over there.”
“Thanks, Bexley. I think I needed that… I think.”
“What about the father?”
“I haven’t told him…”
“You haven’t told him? And you’re how far along?”
“Well, he knows I’m pregnant, but I lied. He thinks he’s the uncle.”
Bexley stares at me for a long moment. “Just so we’re clear…you said you live in a small town. You did imply that his brother is the father…”
“Oh my gosh! Stop. I’m an only child. Yes. His brother who passed away in April.”
I can’t help but giggle at how wide Bexley’s eyes grow. “This is so fu…I’m sorry…screwed up. Miss Dainty Ears who can’t handle curse words, but is pregnant and claiming her baby’s daddy’s dead brother is the father.” She shakes her head. “I did not see any of this coming. Fill out that form, so I can go get you a job and try to help straighten up your messed-up life.”
“I told you it was complicated,” I say, as I take
a pen out of my bag.
“Yeah, you did. But honestly, I was expecting you to tell me you didn’t get a raise on your allowance or the cheer squad didn’t pick you.”
“That’s funny. If I’d tried out, I would’ve made the cheer squad.” I smirk and give her a wink.
After my last class for the day, my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Rachel Abernathy?” An older woman’s voice asks.
“This is she.”
“Hello, I’m Bridget Wake. I’m with campus employment. Are you still interested in working on campus?”
“Yes! Very.”
“Wonderful. You applied for the campus REC center and have been accepted. We also have a position in the cafeteria, if you’re interested.”
“What are the hours for REC?”
“REC center is early morning or late at night. Shift begins at four AM.”
“Would it be possible to leave by nine for my class?”
“Of course. We can work with that.”
“What about the cafeteria? What exactly would I need to do?”
“We have dishwasher and register.”
“I would only be able to work nights and weekends.”
“Are you interested in both?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay. Come by tomorrow and fill out the rest of the paperwork.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I can do this.
Today, I’m going to tell Trent. I’m going to tell him the truth. I have to. It’s the right thing to do. I feel a sense of relief when I leave my last class for today. I’ll get this out of the way and off my chest. As I’m slowly walking back to the campus dorms, I hear a bike engine approaching. Turning around, I see the familiar red sports motorbike slow down as it gets closer. Jonah pulls over and removes his helmet. “Need a ride?”
I gently rub my hand over my growing belly. I’m definitely showing, but it’s a cute baby bump. “I don’t know if there’s room for three.”
He smiles and switches the bike off. He throws his long leg over and removes his lean, toned body from the bike. “Here. The bike has plenty of room for two.”