Ripple: A Novel

by Cedergreen, L. D.

  I felt Adam’s hands on mine, peeling them gently from my face. He lifted my chin in his hand until my bleary eyes met his. “Tell me what happened.”

  His unexpected gentle tone calmed the storm that was raging inside me, and I found the strength I needed to tell him what I came here to say. “I had the baby and...I gave her up.... A nice young couple adopted her.” I searched his eyes, waiting for his reaction. He sat frozen, almost breathless. I knew that it would take a minute for my words to sink in. I could see the moisture building as tears made their way down his cheeks.

  “Her?” he asked, his eyes softening as he released my chin and in the same moment his eyes grew hard, cold. “You had a baby girl, my baby, and gave her away without even telling me?” His anger was resurfacing as he processed the extent of my deceitfulness. He was on his feet again, pacing with his fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose, as if he was suffering from a headache. “The worst part is there is nothing I can do or say to change anything. You never gave me a choice in the matter. I have a daughter somewhere out there that I never even knew existed. How could you? How the fuck could you do that? I loved you, Kendi. I would’ve done anything for you. I was ready to give everything up to support you.”

  “I know. That’s just it. I didn’t want you to have to give anything up. I thought that once you left, I would have time to think about what I wanted. I needed time to process it, to know what was best, before I turned your life upside down. Two days wasn’t enough time, so I lied. I tried to write you so many times during those nine months, to tell you, but in the end I could never go through with it. That’s why I came here yesterday, to tell you.”

  “You should’ve tried harder to tell me all these years. You should’ve told me sooner. I can’t believe that we spent the entire night together, and you were keeping this from me the whole time.”

  He was yelling, and I drew my knees into my chest in an effort to protect myself from his words. He was right, and I deserved this reaction from him. I sat quietly, letting him absorb the truth while he lashed out at me.

  “I’m so sorry, Adam. I never meant to hurt you. It was the hardest thing that I have ever done, and I have tried so hard to forget and move on with my life. But it’s always with me.... She’s always with me.” I sobbed loudly.

  He looked at me, his face livid, angry—his eyes void of any compassion. “No, Kendi, it was the most selfish thing that you have ever done.” His words cut deep as he jabbed a finger toward me, marking me with blame. “Get. Out. I can barely look at you right now,” he seethed.

  He left me sitting alone, drowning in the shame from what I had done—from the lies that I had told—as he stormed out of the room, slamming his bedroom door a moment later.

  I did what I do best; I ran. I ran out the door slipping on my coat along the way. Shivers raked through my body as I attempted to brush aside the snow from my windshield with my coat sleeve. The sun’s reflection off the crystallike snow was blinding, but at least it had nearly melted what had accumulated on the ground, making my departure much easier. I focused on the inhale and exhale of my breath as I drove to my mother’s house, trying desperately to keep myself from falling apart. I fought the sobs that shook my body, knowing that—if I let myself fall victim to the pain, to feel it all again—I would shatter into a million pieces.

  I snuck in through the front door quietly, hoping that everyone was either still asleep or busy showering but no such luck. My mom, Marie and Scott were sitting at the table talking, coffee cups in hand. At the sight of me, my mother looked almost furious.

  “Kendall, where have you been? I was worried about you.”

  “Sorry. I went to see Adam.” My words were barely recognizable as my body shook violently, fighting the breakdown that it so desperately needed.

  “Well.” She paused, not sure what to think as I stood there in yesterday’s clothes with tear-stained cheeks. “You could have called to let us know that you wouldn’t be home.”

  Marie came to me with open arms, knowing all too well that my strength was faltering. “Are you okay?” she asked, wrapping her warm arms around me. I shook my head slowly and started to cry once again, her compassion weakening me. The one person close to me that knew my secret and, yet, she had respected and loved me enough to never discuss it or pass judgment. She had been my rock all these years, and I knew that it hadn’t come without the heavy burden of carrying around a secret of this magnitude. She had suffered as well, keeping this from those that we love.

  “What is this all about, girls?” my mother demanded. Marie looked at me, and I knew that it was time to tell my story. She held my hand as we walked to the table, silently telling me that she was there to support me. I removed my coat and sat down next to my mother, feeling the weight of what I was about to tell her weighing down my shoulders. I took a deep breath and started from the beginning.

  Denial

  It didn’t take the entire three minutes for the double pink line to appear. I watched in disbelief as the red dye slowly made its way across the tiny square of the cheap plastic contraption that I held in my trembling hand. Under any other circumstances I would probably dispute the reliability of this test, but there was no denying the tenderness I felt in my breasts or the lack of my period, which should have come and gone by now. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me. While sitting in the bathroom alone, waiting for the results of this life-altering test, a vivid vision of my life from that moment on flashed before me.

  I could see myself living in this same small town, pregnant, holding a tiny child in my arms while Adam was in the fields farming for long hours every day, trying to make ends meet. I could already feel the resentment building inside, knowing that my dreams were no longer in my reach, and I could envision the insecurity of wondering what Adam felt in his heart. Would he be a faithful husband? Would he be resentful too, toward me, toward our...baby? Of course the “barefoot and pregnant” image was a bit extreme, but, the reality was, we were young, with no college degrees, no jobs. We lived with our parents. It wasn’t hard to foresee that the probability of either of us attending college, any college for that matter, or moving away from this town and our parents’ support, was slim to none.

  It wasn’t only my dreams being ripped from my grasp, it was his as well. It suddenly didn’t matter what this cheap plastic stick revealed; I could not have a baby, and I could not ask Adam to stay. I could not be responsible for the fallout that he would undoubtedly face with his family, knowing how their disappointment would ruin him. He had to go on his mission. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but I needed time to figure that out. Adam didn’t have the luxury of time; he was leaving in two days. I gathered the evidence along with my despair and buried them deep in the trash can under the bathroom sink, so that he could not see the truth. I walked out and knowingly betrayed him in the worst way possible.

  The relief in Adam’s eyes told me that I had done the right thing, but I could not have felt worse. I had never felt so alone as I did in that moment, but what choice did I have? I knew that Adam had to get on that plane.

  I felt the cold splash of guilt and fear wash over me from the lie that I had cast into our lives in that moment, separating us, unaware of the wave of consequences that would inevitably carry me away from him—leaving, in its wake, a ripple.

  ~

  I glanced around my dorm room, my home for the next ten months. It was small but comfortable, and my roommate, Tabatha, and I were lucky to get a room with a large bay window that let in an abundance of natural light, which I was told was a necessity in Seattle. Tabatha was from Austin, Texas. She was short and cute, with long curly dark hair, huge brown eyes and full lips. A handful of freckles danced across her nose and cheeks. She had just a hint of a southern drawl, which she contributed to the fact that she had only lived in Texas since the seventh grade when her family had moved there from Columbus, Ohio. She seemed sweet and bubbly, and I instantly felt as if I had known her longer th
an the two hours it had been since we had met.

  I was guessing that she had a sense for fashion, as she tried desperately to stuff three large suitcases full of clothes into her tiny closet, not to mention the shoes, mostly heels, that she was arranging underneath the small twin-size bed. My closet seemed bare in comparison, having brought only the necessities of jeans, T-shirts, warm sweaters and sneakers.

  I had Adam’s Gonzaga sweatshirt tucked away underneath my pillow, in anticipation for a long, sleepless night. I had spent every night since he had left with it clutched to my chest, my face buried in the worn cotton, trying to hold on to the faint scent that still remained of him. I had not heard from him yet, but he had my new address at school, so it was only a matter of days before I started obsessing over the contents of my mailbox.

  Saying good-bye to my family that morning—after they had helped me with the few small boxes and one large suitcase that held all my personal belongings—had paled in comparison to saying good-bye to Adam the week before. Although it was hard not to feel completely alone starting a new life in an unfamiliar place among complete strangers. It was comforting to know that Marie lived nearby, but she had her own life with her demanding job—which she loved—and the potentially serious relationship that she had with Reid, an aspiring architect that she had met through a close friend. We had promised to meet for brunch on Sundays as often as possible.

  After Adam left, I couldn’t think about anything but the fact that I was pregnant and the desperation of not knowing what to do or who I could trust to talk to about it. It occurred to me now that an entire day had gone by, and I had not thought about it once. The lack of symptoms, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening with my body, and the nervous excitement of moving into my dorm and meeting my new roommate had proven to be quite the welcoming distraction.

  I continued to be distracted as I began my classes and eased into my role of a college student. It was refreshing, meeting new people, almost like I could be whatever I wanted to be, because no one knew the truth about me. Not that I was deceiving in any way—other than the fact that I was hiding my pregnancy, which no one really needed to know. I carried on as if I was not actually pregnant; well, other than abstaining from alcohol, which was not that easy on a college campus. I simply told my roommate and anyone else who asked that I didn’t drink, and once I had held my stance through their endless doses of peer pressure, they usually left me alone.

  Tabatha kept my social calendar full by dragging me to all the big fraternity parties. I would probably have enjoyed these parties, even sober, but the constant attention from the drunk, horny college guys was exhausting after a while. And dating or hooking up with some guy was not in the cards for me. I lived vicariously through Tabatha and her flirtatious behavior that seemed to attract every frat boy within a ten-mile radius. Apparently she had dated the same guy all through high school only to have her heart broken after graduation. She was making up for lost time, although I could tell that she still loved him from the pain that I saw in her eyes when she spoke of him.

  I had become the sober escort for Tabatha and any other drunken female that lived in our building. I didn’t mind, although I couldn’t help but think of how happy this would make Adam, knowing that I was attending college parties and not drinking.

  I received my first letter from Adam during my initial week of school. He described his long and laborious trip to Ghana, the insufferable humidity and the skimpy living conditions. He told me about the wonderful people and his first assignment in the fields, how he felt like he was already making a difference. He shared how much he missed holding me and how much he loved me. He sounded happy, and I couldn’t help but feel excited for him, even through my tears. I wrote back to him and told him about Tabatha, my dorm room and classes. The day-to-day campus life. Everything except what I should have told him. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do, so I just kept living one day at a time.

  I ran almost every day along the wooded paths that weaved through campus. I even found myself running in the rain. I wasn’t really sure why they considered this rain; it was more like a constant drizzle, leaving everything green and wet, the sky a dark layer of clouds. It was the only time that I allowed myself to think about the consequences of my decisions. The decision to have sex with Adam without using protection, the decision to lie to Adam about what that test really concluded and the decision yet to be made but impossible to face. I knew that the clock was ticking; that sooner or later I had to make a decision, but still I kept pretending that it wasn’t really happening, ignoring the inevitable.

  Luckily my body had not changed at all. I wasn’t sure when people started to actually look or feel pregnant, but, besides losing the definition of my stomach muscles and the slight increase in my bra size, I had yet to notice anything else. I had thought about having an abortion several times, but the idea alone scared the hell out of me, and then I usually felt sick just for considering it.

  I didn’t want to have a baby at such a pivotal time in my life, but, without having an abortion, what choice did I have? I had written a thousand letters to Adam, telling him the truth, asking him what I should do. All of them ended up crumpled in the trash can in my room, unsent. The lie I had told seemed unforgivable, and I wasn’t sure how he would react. I feared that, once I told him the truth, he would be so angry that he would turn his back on me, unable to love someone so deceiving. I wouldn’t have blamed him. This lie was so much bigger than the lies he had told me, and I had immediately pushed him away after discovering the truth. Only allowing him back into my life when I knew that he was leaving. So I just kept running, waiting for answers that never come.

  ~

  Thanksgiving break was upon us, and I had decided to spend it in Seattle with Marie and Tabatha. Tabatha was staying in Seattle, waiting the few short weeks until Christmas break to fly home to Austin. The dorms were closed for the week, and Marie had to work through the holidays—some big marketing deadline that she had before Christmas. So the three of us spent the week in Marie’s small apartment. My mother was not happy about it, but she was hosting our usual family Thanksgiving, cooking for twenty-five to thirty people, so she didn’t have much time to argue. I was happy to not be at home surrounded by reminders of Adam. I missed him so much that it hurt sometimes.

  Tabatha and I lounged around in our pajamas all day watching Marie’s assortment of movies. We took advantage of having a comfortable couch to sit on, a large television to watch and long, hot private showers. We had just finished watching Pulp Fiction, our second movie of the day, when Marie emerged through the door, her arms full of groceries.

  “Hey, get your lazy asses up and help me with these bags,” she huffed. We scrambled to the door and grabbed a few bags from her.

  “What’s all this?” I asked, peering into the grocery bags in my arms.

  “Thanksgiving dinner. I thought that we could cook one ourselves.” She smiled. “I invited Reid to join us. He’s bringing dessert.”

  We put on some music, and began slicing and dicing. Slowly the dinner was coming together. Marie and I had helped my mother make this meal a thousand times, but we were not usually the ones to handle the turkey. I let Marie figure out that one; luckily she had a helpful cookbook. I cut up everything for the stuffing, peeled potatoes and put together the green bean casserole, my usual duties. Marie had opened a bottle of white wine and filled three glasses. I picked mine up when she toasted to our own Thanksgiving but then pushed it away. Marie gave me an awkward look, knowing that I liked white wine. Tabatha announced that she would drink mine since I didn’t drink.

  “Since when?” Marie asked, eyeing me suspiciously. I shrugged and let her question hang in the air. “I hope this isn’t because of Adam, Kendi,” she added with obvious disapproval in her voice.

  “I just decided to focus on school, and I’ve been running almost every day. I don’t want to get out of control and feel hungover all the time.” I hoped that she
was satisfied with that answer. I had never lied to my sister before, and I felt completely transparent in that moment, like she could see right through me.

  “Whatever.” She shrugged. “If that’s the real reason, then I’m glad. Now I don’t have to worry about you waking up in some frat house with no memory of the night before.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, feeling like I had just dodged a bullet. Tabatha nearly spewed wine from her mouth, and I laughed, knowing my sister had just described a situation that Tab had already found herself in more than once—well, except for the lack-of-memory part.

  The rest of the day flowed smoothly. Our dinner looked perfect and tasted delicious. Reid was funny and sweet, and I could see why my sister loved him. I could tell by her body language that they were completely comfortable with one another, and watching them together made me miss Adam even more. When dinner was over and the dishes were done, we sat at the table eating the store-bought pumpkin pie that Reid had brought while Tabatha taught us how to play poker, Texas hold ’em style. We played cards for hours, laughing so hard that tears were streaming down our faces, and I knew that I would remember that as one of my favorite Thanksgivings.

  ~

  I finished my finals feeling confident that I had nailed every one of them. I had done little besides running and studying since Thanksgiving, so I didn’t expect anything less. Marie and I dropped Tabatha at Sea-Tac airport and then endured the treacherous drive home for Christmas. The mountain pass was foggy and drenched in snow, resulting in a long drive that took us twice as long as it should have. I cringed as we passed that familiar intersection, the scene of the fatal accident that had changed my life. So much had happened since that tragic day, and I longed to go back in time, to change so many outcomes. The most obvious being in that intersection with Mo on that day at that moment, the moment when I had lost my best friend.