Jessa
I sit on the edge of the bathtub with Allison by my side. Our bodies are pressed against each other, as if the buddy system could save me in this moment. My eyes are locked onto the little pink plus sign, gleaming on the end of the plastic strip. The pregnancy tests—all four of them—have come out with one resounding conclusion.
I’m going to have a baby.
The plastic test lands with a soft clatter on the bathroom tiles as it slips from my fingers. I bury my face in my hands, completely numb. It’s like my mind and body are putting all of their energy into keeping this news at bay. As if I could just ignore what’s happening deep inside of me, make it go away by not acknowledging it.
But even though I grew up in an abstinence-only house, I’ve had enough sex ed to know that isn’t the way these things work.
“How could this have happened?” I breathe, “I’m… I’m on the pill!”
“Well… The pill isn’t always 100% effective,” Allison says gently, “If you don’t take it at the same time every day, or miss a pill, it can throw off—”
“I was careful Allison,” I cut her off, “You think I’d fuck around with something like birth control?”
“Then maybe it was just a freak accident,” she says, her eyes gleaming with empathy, “These things happen. But don’t worry, I’m here. We’re sort this out together.”
“Sort it out?” I laugh incredulously, “How do you figure?”
“Abortion laws are pretty good here in New Jersey,” she goes on, “There’s no reason Mom and Dad would even have to find out.”
I stare at my sister, amazed at the words coming out of her mouth.
“I know it’s a lot to think about,” she tells me earnestly, taking my hands in hers, “But it can absolutely be the best choice, especially for someone as young as you. I… I had one myself, in my first year of college.”
“You did?” I breathe, feeling like my body’s going to come apart at the seams in the face of all this new information.
“I did,” she confirms, “And you know what? It was the right decision. I don’t regret it for a second.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t know that,” I whisper, “Who was there for you?”
“My boyfriend at the time,” she says simply, “Don’t worry, I had the support I needed. And that’s what I want to give you, too.”
“I… You know I’m pro-choice,” I go on stumblingly, “I always figured I’d have an abortion if I got pregnant before the time was right, but now that’s it’s real…? I just don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, Allie.”
“The only thing you need to know right now is that whatever you do next is your choice,” Allison says firmly, squeezing my hands, “You have the final say.”
“I should call Dean,” I whisper, looking around frantically for my phone, “I have to tell him what’s going on.”
“Jessa, listen to me,” Allison says, turning my face toward hers, “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”
“What? Why not?” I ask, “It’s his baby, too.”
“It’s no one’s baby yet,” she counters, “Right now, it’s part of your body, which means it’s up to you what happens from here on out.”
“What are you saying I should do, then?” I breathe.
“What you should do is figure out what you want, before going to Dean with this,” she goes on, “You need to come to your own decision, independent of what he thinks. When you’ve made up your mind, you can tell him or keep it to yourself. But you need a clear head while you think this over. And that won’t be possible if you’ve got his opinions kicking around.”
“I never thought this would happen to me,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“It happens to more women than they ever tell you in health class,” she smiles softly, “But you know what? All the women who’ve had to face this before you get through it together. You’re not alone in this. Not with me here.”
“I… I think I need some air,” I say, rising shakily to my feet.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Allison asks, following as I stagger out into the hall. “I can come with—”
“No,” I cut her off sharply, “No, I just need to think.”
“OK,” she nods, “Go for it. That’s a good idea.”
But I can barely make out her words over the beating of my own heart as I grab my winter coat and burst out onto the porch. My breath comes out in billowing white clouds as I look out across the sleepy campus. Soft snow flurries have started to fall from the sky—my first East Coast snow. But the beauty of the quaint landscape is entirely lost on me as I run around the house and grab my bike.
Swinging onto the cruiser, I take off like a shot through the streets. Almost as if I could outpace what’s happening to me. Inside of me. I ride off like a woman on a mission, my gloveless fingers going numb around my handlebars. I promise myself that I won’t return home until I know exactly how I’m going to handle this. No matter how dark and cold it gets, I need to knuckle under and make a choice. Because it isn’t just one life that hangs in the balance, now.
It’s three.
Chapter Seven
Dean
“You look like a Jehovah’s Witness,” Buck informs me as I step out of my room.
“It’s called a button down,” I tell him, grabbing my winter coat, “Just because you don’t own a single shirt that doesn’t have a beer logo on it—”
“I’m just saying, you’re really putting in a lot of effort, trying to make this thing with Coach’s daughter work out,” Buck goes on, shoveling Captain Crunch into his face, “Dressing up all gentlemanly and whatnot. Is it really worth it?”
“You’ll get it someday,” I tell him, pocketing my phone and keys.
“What, when I’m in looove?” Buck drawls, batting his eyelashes at me.
I throw my best friend into a casual headlock.
“Exactly, asshole,” I smile, releasing him back to his cereal.
Stepping out of my apartment building, I suck a deep breath of frosty air into my lungs. The ground is covered with a few inches of snow—the first of the season. It crunches under my feet as I set out for Jessa’s house. Tonight, our plan goes into action. I’m going to swing by her house to give her a “thank you” gift for tutoring me all semester. Her parents will see me as a nice, thoughtful young man, instead of a killer running back. Who knows? Maybe they’ll even invite me in for some hot chocolate, or whatever it is upper middle class people do.
My fingers close around a small box in my jacket pocket. I’ve never given a serious gift to a girl before, so I have no idea whether Jessa is going to like this present or not. Even though this little gift-giving is mostly just for show, I still want her to like what I’ve picked out for her. I really must be head-over-heels if I’m suddenly giving a shit about my shopping abilities.
A smile comes across my face as I walk across the quiet, snow-covered campus. I knew that coming to Rayburn to play college ball was a good decision, but I never thought it would bring something as amazing as my relationship with Jessa into my life. In thinking about the future, I’ve never wondered what it might hold beyond what NFL team I’d end up playing for. But now, there’s a whole new factor to take into account. A whole other person to think of. And you know what? I’m ready to think of it that way.
To think of her that way.
Jessa
I stand in front of my bedroom’s full-length mirror, studying my reflection for hints of transformation. My face is pale but resolved, my newly filled-out body wound as tight as a spring. I’m wearing a navy sheath dress, the fabric of which skirts over my curves without hiding them completely. My stomach is bound up in a tight knot as I wait for Dean to arrive. I spent all of yesterday wracking my brain as I came to a decision about what to do about our situation. But even though I’ve made up my mind, it won’t make this next part any easier.
Allison and Blaire are waiting for me in the kitchen. I filled
Blaire in on what’s going on, needing all the moral support I can get right now. She and my sister helped me nail down the details of my plan going forward. Allie was right about one thing—at a time like this, the women in your life are indispensable.
Just as I’ve gathered my long blonde hair into a ponytail, my phone vibrates on the desk. I glance over at the device and feel my heart fly into my chest as I see Dean’s name there. His message reads:
Dean: Heading over. Can’t wait to see you, beautiful.
I sink down into my desk chair, swallowing a sob. I know that I’m making the best decision for both of us, here. But fuck if it doesn’t hurt like hell.
Dean
I take Jessa’s front steps two at a time, all but beaming as I ring the doorbell. I let that smile play all the way across my face as Coach Cahill swings open the heavy front door. Jessa’s mom peers around Coach’s towering shape, her eyes as wide with surprise at my presence as his are narrow with something that looks like suspicion.
“Hello Coach Cahill,” I say in greeting, “Mrs. Cahill.”
“Dean,” Coach says gruffly, “What brings you over here, son?”
“Would you boys like a moment alone to talk shop?” Mrs. Cahill asks, “I could shoo the girls out of the kitchen for you.”
“Actually, I was hoping I could speak to Jessa for a second,” I reply.
“Oh,” Mrs. Cahill breathes.
“What about?” Coach asks, lifting his chin.
“I wanted to say thank you for all her tutoring help this semester,” I smile, “It was so generous of you to arrange that, Coach. And so nice of Jessa to take the time to help me.”
“Anything for the team,” he replies, “It was no trouble at all. For either of us.”
“Well. I still wanted to give her a small gift. To show my gratitude,” I tell him.
“A gift?” Coach asks, his voice skeptical.
“If that’s OK with you. Sir,” I reply, laying it on thick as butter.
“It’s a nice gesture, Dean, but that’s just not necessary,” Coach shrugs.
“Oh, Nathan. Let him give it to her,” Mrs. Cahill whispers.
Coach shoots his wife a downright poisonous glare as she dares to talk back to him. Jesus. I knew he was a mean sonofabitch, but it’s clear that Jessa’s mom gets it worse than any of us on the team. For a second, I’m seriously worried about what he might do to her. But sensing that it isn’t worth the trouble to get into it in front of me, he moves on.
“Fine,” Coach grunts, walking back into the house, “Go ahead, then.”
“I’ll call Jessa for you,” Mrs. Cahill says, smiling shakily as she swings the door open, “Would you like to come inside, Dean?”
But before I can answer, Jessa’s appeared at the top of the stairs. My heart rams itself against my ribcage as I catch a glimpse at her hurrying down the stairs to meet me. The sight of her never ceases to knock me out.
“That’s OK Mom,” Jessa says quickly, shucking on her coat as she steps outside to meet me, “We can talk out here.”
I glance over at her, confused. The plan was for me to come inside and spend some time around her and the family. Let them get used to be being around. But looking at Jessa’s serious face, I’m starting to get the idea that the plan has changed.
“Oh. OK,” Mrs. Cahill says, looking back and forth between the two of us, “Well, feel free to come inside if you get too cold.”
Through the screen door, I can see Jessa’s older sister and best friend sitting solemnly at the kitchen table, looking out at us with bated breath. Tension starts to creep through my body as Jessa walks away from me, bracing herself against the porch railing. This isn’t how things were supposed to go tonight. Not at all.
“Hey,” I murmur, stepping into the shadow beyond the porch light to lay a hand on Jessa’s back, “Is everything OK?”
Jessa
The touch of his hand nearly shatters me there on the porch, but I have to hold strong for both of us. For all of us. Putting on my best resolute smile, I turn my face toward Dean’s. The look of anxious concern on his face tugs painfully at my heartstrings, but I can’t waver now.
“Everything’s great,” I reassure him, leaning lightly against his warm body.
“Really?” he laughs softly, glancing back toward the front door, “Cause the mood in your house is about as lighthearted as a funeral.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, “That’s pretty typical.”
“It seems different than usual,” Dean observes, “Something’s up, isn’t it?”
Goddamn his intuition. I can’t hide anything from this man. It’s one of the things I’ve come to love best about him, but now I wish he was just a little more dense. It would make lying to his face a lot easier.
“There is something I need to talk to you about,” I allow, turning to face him.
“Shit,” he mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets, “That’s never a good sign.”
“Yeah,” I reply, shaking my head, “I don’t think you’re going to be thrilled about what I have to tell you. But I need you to promise to try and keep an open mind, OK?”
“OK,” he agrees, “I’ll do my best. Shoot.”
I take a long, steadying breath before locking my eyes onto his. I can do this. I have to.
“I don’t think we should come out as a couple after all,” I tell him point-blank.
His eyes widen with incredulous confusion.
“What? Why not?” he asks, “I thought we agreed—”
“We did. But circumstances have changed,” I go on.
“Circumstances? What circumstances?” he demands.
“It may not be the best time to go public after all,” I tell him, choosing my words carefully, “Because I’m not going to be around this coming semester to deal with the fallout. I’ve decided to spend the spring semester in Boston, with Allison.”
Dean’s confusion deepens into hurt as I look on.
“What are you talking about?” he breathes, “You can’t just go off to Boston. You… What about school?”
“I’m going to do a semester at Boston University,” I tell him, “I got into this incredible creative writing workshop they have there in the spring. It’s a really competitive application process, but I made the cut.”
“I didn’t know you were applying for a transfer,” he says, searching my face.
“It’s not a transfer, it’s just for the one semester,” I clarify, “Like a study abroad, without the abroad part. I’ll be back in the summer.”
“The summer,” he repeats, his voice hollow. “You’re leaving Rayburn for the better part of a year. You’re leaving me—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was considering this,” I tell him, taking his hands, “I heard about the workshop before we even met. And it was just such a long shot that I’d even get into this class, I didn’t think it was worth bothering you with it.”
“So let me guess,” he says, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. My favorite feeling in the world. “You want to be ‘just friends’ while you’re away? Is that it?”
“No,” I breathe, clutching his hands in mine, “Dean, I don’t want to break up. Or even take a break.”
“You… You don’t?” he asks, raising his eyes to mine.
“Not at all,” I say adamantly, stepping toward him, “I love you, Dean. It’s going to break my heart, having to be away from you. But this is something I need to do for myself, you know? For my future. That doesn’t mean that we have to stop caring for each other, or being a couple. People do long distance relationships all the time. And the second I’m back, we can pick up right where we left off with our plan.”
“So… I can go into my senior year with you by my side?” he asks, his voice rough with emotion, “We can let the world know that we’re together?”
“Absolutely,” I smile, tears stinging my eyes, “When I get back, we can tell everyone we’ve ever met that we’re madly, stupidly in love.”
> Without another word, Dean pulls me into a tight embrace. I close my eyes, breathing him in as I try to hold back my desperate tears. Lying to him is the last thing I ever wanted to do, but I can’t tell him what’s really going on. If he knew that I was pregnant, he would drop everything to support me. His college football career would be as good as over—not just because all his attention would be on me, but because my father would kick him off the team in a fucking heartbeat if he knew Dean knocked me up. I won’t let my pregnancy be the end of Dean’s life. Or the end of my life, for that matter.
I’m going up to Boston to stay with Allie, all right. But I’m not taking some class at BU. I’ll be taking online courses with Rayburn while I see this pregnancy through. I’m not going to have an abortion after all, but I’m not going to saddle this baby with an uncertain future, either. I’m going going to find a wonderful adoptive family who will give this little one the life he or she deserves. Of course I’ll tell Dean about my intentions, but not until everything’s settled. He won’t be able to ruin his life for my sake once I’ve lined up such an excellent alternative for this little person who’s growing inside of me. I’ll take care of everything. I owe him that much.
“Christ, I’m gonna miss you…” Dean mutters, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m gonna miss you too, baby,” I whisper, wrapping my arms even tighter around his waist, “I’m so sorry. About all of this…”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, lifting my chin with a finger, “If this is something you have to do, then I support you. Even if I fucking hate that we’ll have to be apart. That I won’t be able to see you. To touch you…”
Beauty and the Running Back Page 10