Seclusion

by Leanne Davis

  Sarah sighed heavily. “Jesus, Angie. You have got to grow up and quit running from everything you don’t want to deal with. First off, you’ll have to tell him. He’s the father, he’ll need to know.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  Sarah turned around with a snap of her head. “You will. I’m sick to death of your crap. No one hides pregnancies. You don’t get to do it again. Bury your mother. I know what she did to you. But bury it. Get over it. Vanessa isn’t an excuse for you to keep hiding everything. You’re too old. So first off, no more secrets.”

  Angie stared open mouthed at Sarah. Sarah never yelled at her like this. But she was serious. Usually Sarah was the first to understand her, forgive her, and be kind to her. In all truth, make allowances for her.

  Not anymore.

  “Aren’t you going to ask how it happened?”

  “I’m aware how it happens.”

  “I mean, how I could do this again?”

  “Ah, the shame part, huh? Why you didn’t tell us?”

  “Yes. It is. I was careful. We used condoms. I always do. I don’t know how it happened.”

  “They’re not fool proof. You got caught.”

  “You believe me?”

  “That you know to use birth control? I believe you. I was there the first time, remember? This isn’t how you want this. I know that. You know that. Scott will know that. And so will Sean.”

  “Sean and I are over. We should have never started.”

  “Bull shit. You two aren’t anything but immature idiots. That’s for later. So what are your finances?”

  Angie dropped her head. “Not great. I worked at Starbucks. I have thousands in student loans. I’m—”

  “Not alone. You have us. You can stay here. We’ll figure it out this time.”

  “I can’t do adoption again. It would kill me.”

  “Again, I was there. I know. We’ll figure it out.”

  “No, you won’t. This time it’s on me.”

  “Do you have any idea how much work a baby is? How expensive child care is? I do. I know. And no one does it alone. Even me. So here is the thing: you’ll finish your degree. That will get you a better job. We’ll figure that out too. You might have to move here. I know you hate it. But we’re here, and you’ll need us. We can help you.”

  “I can’t live here. You have your own life.”

  “Fine. You can stay here until you figure out what’s next. You have six months still before the baby will actually be here. That’s long enough. We’ll figure it out, all together.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally, quietly, exhausted at the magnitude of her mistakes.

  Sarah smiled finally, came closer, wrapped Angie in her arms, as any mother would when disappointed in their child, but also, there to comfort them through it. “What’s done is done. What matters now is what you do with it all. No more secrets, or hiding or shame. It’s you now being strong, getting yourself and your life ready for a baby to enter it.”

  Angie nodded into Sarah’s neck. Feeling fifteen again. But this time someone cared. From the start. Why couldn’t Vanessa be this for her?

  “So Sean told me he slept with Vanessa. I reamed his ass out over it. You should too. But you shouldn’t let it be what keeps you two apart. She’s not worth it. She’s not worth losing anything good in your life. I truly believe that.”

  “I keep picturing them. I can’t stand it.”

  “I did the same thing, honey. With her and Scott.”

  “But Vanessa’s my mother.”

  “It’s got to be ten times worse for you.”

  “The day Sean told me, Vanessa had just got done pretending she wanted to be friends or something. Kind of let bygones be bygones. Then Sean walked in and he was acting weird about her. I thought it was because he didn’t like her, for my sake, until he told me about them. He must have sensed she was up to something. He must have seen Vanessa was just playing a part to make him sweat. She didn’t mean any of it, did she?”

  Sarah sighed. “No. She’s never meant anything positive toward you. I wish it were different. But that’s the reality and your job is to deal with it without letting it ruin who you are. She’s a bad seed. You’re not. Hold onto that. Hold onto what’s good in your life and who loves you. Let her go. I can’t stress that enough to you, especially now. Let Vanessa’s influence in your life go. Don’t be angry at her. Don’t care. Let her go. My guess, Sean was trying to protect you from that. He should have told you sooner, but he did tell you. Same thing you did with your pregnancy. Think about that.”

  Angie was across the yard sitting on the deck. She was wearing loose fitting gray pants and a long white shirt. Her hair was braided off her face.

  In that moment, he saw Angie at age fourteen when they had first exchanged glances across a crowded ice cream parlor as a bunch of their friends all met up. He’d been in eighth grade, she a freshman. They’d been loosely hanging around the same group of friends around town. They’d talked. They’d eventually talked more. There was no one else like her; as quiet, as reserved, as slow to smile. She didn’t giggle, she didn’t gossip. It wasn’t long before they started slowly comparing notes about mothers and he’d found the first person to understand him. Understand his strange relationship with his father, and what he represented to his mother.

  Angie never did say much. She mostly listened. As he did to her as she talked about how mean her mother was to her. He remembered Angie, overlooked by most, too tall for her age, too gawky, all legs, no breasts, acne and hair that fell over her face more out of protection than fashion.

  And slowly as summer progressed things had started to change between them. First it was kidding around. They would tease and tickle each other. And then one day on the beach, he caught her hand, and they had kept holding hands. He could remember it still. They, sitting on the dry sand of the dunes, looking straight ahead toward the water, not daring glance at each other, as they held each other’s hands. Totally silent. Totally without a word or a glance to each other.

  It was days later before it happened again. It was a week before he worked up the guts to put his arm around her shoulders. Weeks still before she did it back. Weeks and weeks, of holding hands, lying in the dunes quietly talking before they hugged. Before they’d eventually kissed each other.

  He remembered it better than he remembered losing his virginity. They had been on the beach, of course. They didn’t go to each other’s houses. She never took friends home because of how mean Vanessa was. How much Vanessa would embarrass her and them. And he didn’t take anyone to his house simply because of how freakish his mother looked.

  So they’d met in the sand dunes in dry weather, and around town at the café or bakery or ice cream shop on wet days. Considering how much they were together it was amazing more people hadn’t guessed him the father of her baby.

  They had been together in the dunes, lying back, their coats pillows for their heads. They had been holding each other, their faces toward each other, and eyes staring at each other. They had talked of nothing. Of everything. He’d recently told her the truth about his mother. Then they’d suddenly fallen silent. And instead of looking away, they finally, slowly, moved their heads toward each other. Their lips had touched. A meeting of soft, dry lips. Thinking back, the sweetness of it made him smile. They hadn’t done anything. But he remembered them both jumping up in shock, not glancing at each other as they had rushed off in different directions.

  It was a week before they finally met back up again. Before they tried it again. It was slow building up to even making out.

  Until one night, Angie had called his house. She’d been crying. Her mother had said things to her. Vanessa had stormed out of the house and hadn’t been back in two days. Sean knew about her Uncle Scott, who was always there. But this time it wasn’t enough for Angie.

  He had snuck out that night. Angie by then had her permit to drive. She’d taken Scott’s car, and picked him up.

  They had go
ne to the beach. The beach that Angie so hated. But in Seaclusion there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere else that made so much sense, as a deserted beach to be alone at.

  It had been a few months into the school year. The evening was dry and cold on that November day.

  Angie had been upset. He’d wanted her to feel better. They had walked along the water, holding hands, and going to the sand dunes until eventually they had sat down together. Still holding hands. They’d fallen silent. They’d kissed some more. And this time things went farther. She pulled him closer; he’d willingly pushed at her shirt, until he’d come to her bra. And he’d thought he’d die right then and there. And she hadn’t stopped him. She had moaned, as if she liked it, even though he’d had no clue what he was doing.

  Somehow they’d overcome their bubbling idiocy and shyness. They’d pulled at clothes, and finally they’d found out what sex was about on that cold, starry night on the beach. They hadn’t planned it. They’d never planned anything together. They had just connected together. So the fact that they hadn’t used a condom hadn’t really meant much to them. Sure, they’d been taught the facts, but who really believed one time would make a baby? One act seemed like nothing to do with the other, in their teenage minds.

  And he’d thought they were in love. That they’d go back to school and be a real couple. The kind that walked down the halls holding hands together, kissing at their lockers, meeting up between classes and at lunch. He’d thought he’d finally belong somewhere. They weren’t popular, they had few friends, but they’d have each other.

  But Angie had come to school and never looked at him again. She snubbed him the few times he tried to talk to her. And sure, he should have been tougher, demanded answers. But he’d been ashamed. He had thought he hurt her having sex, or maybe she had regretted it all, or maybe he’d just been so bad at it Angie couldn’t even look at him. So he’d backed right off, not another word, another look and certainly no attempt to talk about what happened.

  Then six months later, he’d been putting his books in his locker to head for health class when he’d heard two girls in his class talking about Angie Peters, and that it had just come out that she was pregnant. Like really pregnant, six months pregnant.

  His heart had literally stopped in his chest. He’d seen Angie at school, from a distance, once they’d run into each other in the hall. But she never smiled; her eyes didn’t even twitch in acknowledgment of him. He’d noticed she had gained weight, but it hadn’t meant much to him. He’d have been her boyfriend in a second if she’d asked. A few pounds made no difference one way or another, if he could just make up for that night.

  It had never occurred to him that she was pregnant.

  Still, after he knew. He didn’t know what to do.

  Was he supposed to confront her? How? Where? And then what? He was fifteen. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know who to talk to. And the thought of everyone finding out it was him who had gotten Angie pregnant, had made his stomach congeal. He’d lost weight in nerves, as Angie continued to gain.

  And finally, finally his sister had called his parents. And they’d confronted him. He’d had to drive with his dad to Angie’s house, where he’d been made to confront her, in front of Scott, Sarah, his father and Vanessa. He’d been so horrified about what he’d done to her; he couldn’t even look at her, let alone look her in the eye. He’d screwed it up so bad but he didn’t know how to fix it.

  He’d disappointed everyone. That’s all that had stuck with him from it all. For years. He’d known what a disappointment he was. Especially being Sarah’s younger brother. He sucked at school, had little motivation for sports or extra-curricular activities. College wasn’t even on the map for him. Sarah had been honors, four point oh, and a cheerleader. She’d gone on to college, come back home, opened her store to strong success. It wasn’t easy being her lacking, lazy brother who had been the one to get Angie Peters pregnant.

  Angie and he had never talked about the baby. He’d shown up at the hospital because Sarah made him. He’d held the baby once. It had never felt like his. It hadn’t hurt him to hold her, and he’d been relieved to give her up. That’s where he and Angie so differed. Amy was a mistake he gladly gave up to Luke and Kelly Tyler. For Angie, Amy was the baby she loved and abandoned.

  Years had passed before they talked to one another. They eventually formed a sarcastic, defensive, strange relationship of insults and rude retorts. It was as if they could only bear to be near each other if they made sure to be as mean as they could. To never acknowledge what they’d done together.

  Until six weeks ago, that had been their relationship.

  Sean had not spent two seconds grieving Amy. He hadn’t loved Amy, and he had never felt any emotional or physical bond to his baby. But he had felt all that toward Angie. And for eight years he tried to get over her.

  And now, maybe, he would for good.

  Except, just then, she looked across the yard, and her eyes filled with tears, with weary pain, and damn if his gut didn’t twist in response.

  Sean threw his wrench at the tool box. Without a word to Scott, he crossed the yard toward Angie. She stood up at his approach. Her eyes weary and wet.

  “Come on,” he said roughly, as he took her hand and pulled her across the yard, to the trail to the beach. He didn’t say another word or pause until they were alone, at the bench. Their bench now. He half threw her, half helped her sit down. He stayed standing. Pacing. Not sure what to say. He was confused and angry, but he wasn’t ready to be done with Angie yet either.

  “I’m so sick and tired of you.”

  “I know,” she said quietly.

  “Oh, really, you know? No, you don’t. You think I’m mad because you’re pregnant. I am. But I’m angrier still you won’t tell me things. You assume the worst of me. You never think I can handle things. You broke my heart when we were teenagers, when you never once gave me the chance to do right by you. Here you do it again. You never believe I could be more than the loser you have me cast as; the jerk that can’t see past the obvious.”

  “I don’t think you’re a loser. I didn’t tell you because there was no reason to tell you at first. Then that night of your father’s funeral happened and I didn’t know how to go back and tell you. You asked me out. You asked me to get together. And I wanted to.”

  “Pretty good time to tell me.”

  “Yes. But by then I wanted to be with you. I wasn’t ready for you to leave me. I wanted—”

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. “What? What did you want? Where did you think this was going?”

  “I don’t know. Besides, where did you think it was going?” she asked, her tone sharp.

  “I thought we could date for a while, a couple of years even, see where it all went. I thought you’d go back to school, maybe we’d try and stay together, maybe not. I thought we had all the time in the world to see why we were together, and where we were headed. Little did I know I was up for the roll of what? Your last fling? Or what? What was it you saw me as, Angie?”

  She sat there staring up at him, her tears dried up. Her eyes started to gleam at him strangely. “Last fling? Oh, come on, if I wanted that, I would have left it at the first night. I know what I did wrong. I do. Believe me. But not telling you, or even Sarah and Scott was my prerogative. I’m not sixteen anymore.”

  “Then why do you still act it?”

  “Me? Look at you. You told me you loved me, then five minutes later you told me you slept with my mother because she was good at it. You think I have issues? What about that? What about claiming you always had feelings for me, but that didn’t stop you from doing it with my mother!” He stopped pacing.

  She stood up.

  “And what’s more, I saw you! I saw her in your truck. That day as I was crying my eyes out over hurting you, and dealing with you and my mother, who do I see driving by but you and my mother?”

  “I took her home. Nothing more. Look, I screwed up with her, but
I wouldn’t sleep with her now. Not after us. You can’t think that. She was waiting there for me when I came back from the beach. All weepy and Vanessa-like. She knew I’d told you. She knew you’d never forgive her. All I did was drive her home.”

  Angie shrugged. “What does it matter what I believe? You’re done with me, right? I’m tainted goods now.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You did. You just about said it.”

  “I say things I shouldn’t sometimes. It was probably a miscalculation to tell you I loved you in one breath and mention your mother in the next.”

  “You think?”

  “Look, I’m not sure what to be. You’re mad. I’m mad. Who’s right?”

  She hesitated. “Did you mean it?”

  “What?”

  “That you love me?”

  He looked away. Toward the water. Finally, he shook his head. “I meant it.”

  “And now? Do you still?”

  “It’s become a lot more complicated.”

  “It already was. We already share a child; it’s why I’ve always had such a problem being around you.”

  “I’m not looking to have kids. I’m twenty-four, I was imagining more like thirty-four.”

  “I was too. But it didn’t work out that way.”

  “I’m sorry about Vanessa. It won’t happen again, no matter what happens with us, I swear to you.”

  “You’ll pardon me if I’m never exactly okay with that one. She is my mother. I really don’t need to picture—”

  “Then don’t. Don’t picture it. It was nothing like what we have. Nothing. I mean it.”

  “We have or had?”

  “I don’t know. You’re pregnant. I don’t know what to do with that.”

  She smiled sadly. “Sad part is; I don’t either.”

  “How did happen? I mean, I thought you’d have―”

  “Learned my lesson? Yeah, me too. We used condoms every time. I don’t know.”

  “You’re sure it’s the professors?”

  “I’m not a slut on top of everything else.”