Falling Up

by Melody Carlson

  “What?” I ask as I continue to scrub a pot.

  “Your daddy doesn't know that I wasn't married when I became pregnant with him.” She pauses as if waiting for me to react, but I just listen. “You see, it was war times, and your daddy's father had just enlisted in the Navy. We were engaged at the time, and I was ready and willing to get married, but Ronald was worried that something might happen to him. He thought he might come home missing a leg or an arm or maybe even his mind, like what had happened to one of his good friends. So for my sake, he wanted us to wait. And although we decided to wait to get married, we didn't wait to, well, I think you understand what I'm getting at, Kimmy, dear. So it was that Ronald went off to the South Pacific, and I discovered I was in the family way.”

  “That must ve been really hard,” I say as I realize what she's saying. “I mean, back in those days especially.”

  She laughs. “Well, as surprising as it may sound, it wasn't so terribly unusual during the war years. Still, it was embarrassing, and folks did what they could to cover these things up. Naturally, I wrote to Ronald straight away, explaining what had happened. And he wrote right back promising me that we would get married during his next leave.” She sighs as she begins to wipe the pot that I hand her. “But my dear Ronald was killed before he ever got a leave.”

  “Oh, no.” I turn and look at her. “That must've been awful for you.”

  She nods. “Yes, it was terrible. I didn't tell anyone, except my mother, what had happened. Then I moved away from my hometown in Indiana before my family could be embarrassed by the situation. I wanted to get as far away as possible, so I looked at a map and decided on Miami. I got a train ticket and came down to Florida with less than a hundred dollars in my purse. I got a job and rented a room, and somehow I managed. Of course, I wore a wedding ring and told anyone who wanted to know that my baby's daddy, my husband, had been killed in the Pacific. And no one ever questioned this.”

  “That must've been so hard, Grandma.”

  “Life was hard for everyone during that time. But people helped each other. I think the war brought out the goodness in a lot of folks.”

  “So when did you marry Uncle Garths dad?”

  “Oh, that was some time later. By then I'd taken some secretarial training and had gotten a decent job that supported me and my boy. Your daddy was just starting high school when I met Sid. At first Allen didn't much like the idea of another man coming into the picture. But after a while, he saw what a truly good man Sid was, and he finally came to his senses. Now, I had never dreamed of having more children, goodness knows I was close to forty, but the Good Lord must've had other plans, because just a few years after I married Sid, little Garth came along.” She sighs as she sets the dry pot aside. “And what a blessing that boy has been to me. A real comfort in my old age.”

  “He's a sweet guy.” Still, as I drain the soapy water from the sink, I am feeling slightly stunned by this whole story. Who would've guessed that my own dad had been “born out of wedlock”? Maybe he and I have more in common than I realized.

  “The only reason I'm telling you all this, Kimmy, is so that maybe you'll understand how it might feel to be in your friend's position. It's a very tough spot.”

  “But you said you had wished for an abortion, Grandma. Do you still feel that way?”

  She laughs. “Of course not. It was just a moment of desperation that made me wish for that nonsense. And after I lost Ronald and Allen was born, well, I was so thankful to have that piece of Ronald still with me. Allen looks an awful lot like his father. Remind me to show you a photo sometime.”

  “So Dad knew that his father had died in the war, but you never told him that you weren't married?”

  “Not that I'd mind if he knew, Kimmy; I've made my peace with all that. I just never saw the need to tell him.”

  Then Grandma announces that it's time to check on the gators. “You want to drive?” she asks as she hobbles outside to where Old Nellie is parked.

  “Sure,” I tell her. Then with me at the wheel, Grandma gives directions. And after about fifteen minutes, we pull up to the same spot we came to earlier today. Only now, in this dimmer light, the swampy area takes on a different look, kind of creepy with shadowy moss hanging from trees and the haunting sounds of birds and frogs. I really feel like I'm in a foreign country. Maybe Africa.

  “Park over there.” She points to a small clearing about thirty feet from the edge of the greenish-looking water.

  “Be quiet,” she says in a low voice as I put on the brake. Then she points out to what looks like a partially submerged log, and I realize it's moving—and that it's actually an alligator. Then I notice there's another one halfway onto the shore, making its way to the chicken scraps Grandma tossed out today.

  “That's Bill and Gloria,” she whispers.

  “How can you tell?”

  “You get to know these things after a while.”

  And so we sit there just watching in silence as these two munch down and fight for the chicken scraps. And although I know it's wrong and its breaking the law, I have to admit that its kind of exciting.

  “We better go before it starts getting dark,” Grandma finally says.

  So I head back toward her house. “Do you worry about getting in trouble with the law?” I ask her after we're a ways from the swamp.

  She tosses back her head and laughs. “I've never seen any authorities around here, Rmmy. I doubt that anyone even knows about this place sides Garth and me. It was Sid who got us coming here in the first place. I suppose if there were folks living round these parts, well, then I'd surely stop feeding my gators. As it is, I can't see that it does any harm. Just don't tell anyone, Kimmy. I'm too old to go to prison.” Then she laughs again.

  And there it is—my grandmother turns out to be even more of a character than I imagined. Besides illegally feeding the alligators, she was once an unwed mother. Who knew? And oh yeah, she enjoys smoking a pipe occasionally. That took me by surprise the first time I saw her light up.

  “It's Sids old pipe,” she told me as she leaned back in the rocker on the porch. “Sometimes I miss the smell. I don't really inhale the smoke though, my old lungs can't take it. But I do enjoy the aroma of a good pipe.”

  Tonight before I go to bed, I dig through my big manila envelope of hard-copy letters to see if I can find one of the ones that had to do with being pregnant. I remember skimming over a couple recently. Of course, I set them aside because I was so stressed out by Natalie s problems at the time. But tonight I feel like dealing with one.

  Dear Jamie,

  I am sixteen and pregnant and have decided to keep my baby. He's due in early September, which means I should be able to go back to school after he's born (while he's in day care). But my boyfriend, who's eighteen, doesn't like the idea of having our baby in day care. He thinks we should get married and I should stay home and take care of the baby and just get my GED. I think I'm too young to get married. And I'm not even sure that I want to quit school yet. What do you think I should do?

  Teen Mom

  Dear Teen Mom,

  It sounds like you've given this some thought since you seem certain you're going to parent your baby As a teenager myself, I can't imagine how hard that would be, but I'm sure you must have some idea. If not, hopefully you will look into it before you make your final decision, because I firmly believe that adoption is a great option. But regarding your question about marriage and high school…it sounds like you know what you want because you have already stated that: 1) you're not ready to get married, and 2) you're not ready to quit high school. So when in doubt, don't. Good luck.

  Just Jamie

  Sixteen

  Sunday, June 30

  I can't believe I've been down in Florida for more than two weeks now. I'll admit that the first week was the hardest, and looking back I think I was actually a little depressed. I guess it was similar to culture shock. Like not only had I gone to a totally different part of the countr
y, but it also seemed as if I'd gone back in time as well. Just the idea of being so disconnected from everyone back home was pretty unsettling. But once I survived the first week, it's like I fell into a routine of sorts. And as it turned out, it's a very comfortable routine. I'm just not sure how much longer it needs to continue.

  For the first few days, I felt compelled to go to town every day. I'd get in the old Jeep pickup and rattle down the road until my brain felt like mush just so I could check my e-mail and see what was going on in the “real” world. But then I started slacking off—it's like I realized the “real” world would go on without me just fine.

  After several days, Uncle Garth finished his woodworking project and began to introduce me to the various things to see down here. He has a “lady friend” named Anna Lee who comes along. But as far as I can tell, they're not romantically involved-^just really good friends. So far we've been to several animal refuges, where I've seen some amazing birds and things and gotten some incredible photos. We've also gone fishing a few times—right out on the ocean, which was totally amazing.

  And Uncle Garth and Anna Lee showed me the best place to snorkel, and I bought some of those disposable cameras that work underwater. And last week I started taking scuba lessons from the shop that's run by Anna Lee's son, Jacob, and I will become “certified” tomorrow after I take my open water dive test. So it's not like I've had lots of time to sit around and feel sorry for myself.

  In the spare time I do have—when I'm not helping Grandma in the kitchen or garden or with any of the other various household chores—I've been getting in a lot of reading. My favorite spot to read is the swing on the screened-in front porch. And Grandma has this great collection of old books. My favorites have been by Gene Stratton-Porter. At first they seemed kind of old-fashioned and quaint, but after I got used to her style, I began to almost imagine that I was living in some of the stories. Especially in “Girl of the Limberlost.”

  It's also helped me to get over my fear of crawly things. I've actually learned to appreciate the beauty in things like centipedes and salamanders. And Uncle Garth is great at recognizing wildlife. He's given me several books with great photos to study.

  I feel like I can just be myself here. And I'm more relaxed than I've been in ages. It's as if I can breathe again. As a result, I have become much less obsessed with some of the stuff that's going on back at home. I still e-mail Dad, Matthew, Natalie, and Maya, but it's not like I'm so immersed in their lives and their problems anymore. And the weird thing is, their lives seem to be getting better—without me. Go figure.

  Dad has started going to a therapy group for people who've lost loved ones to cancer. Maya has been in contact with her famous dad, telling him that her mom is having some problems. Matthew is pretty much having a good time touring Europe, and his e-mails have become fewer and shorter—but instead of freaking over this, I'm just realizing that it's okay. And my e-mails to him are similar. Does this mean we're breaking up? I don't think so. But I'm not going to obsess about it. Time will tei

  Unfortunately, Nat just seems to be stuck, like she's in a holding pattern. She still hasn't told her mom or Ben or anyone else—besides the people at Haven, that is. Although she said that all her jeans are too tight now and she's having to wear sweats and is worried someone's going to guess.

  There's only one thing that's really bothering me since I've come down here, and that's my relationship with God. It's like its still going slightly sideways on me. Like I can't quite grasp what it is I'm doing wrong, and I don't know how to fix it. So I've just sort of let it go. Not that I've quit believing in God. That's not it at all. But it's like I've quit trying so hard. And sometimes I feel guilty because I'm not praying as much as I used to pray. And I've only read the Bible a couple of times since I got here. And I haven't gone to any form of fellowship—not even a church service.

  Uncle Garth and Grandma don't go to church. But as far as I can tell, based on things they've said, they are both believers. And I've seen my grandma reading her Bible sometimes. I've considered asking them about their faith, but I'm worried that I'll seem intrusive or nosy. It's like their faith is just this quiet thing—its there, but they don't speak of it much.

  The strange thing about all this is that I don't feel extremely worried about it. I get this feeling that God is up to something, that He has me here for a reason, and that everything is going to be fine. I can't even explain how I know this. Maybe it's just a peace that's deep down inside of me.

  Tuesday, July 2

  I called Dad yesterday afternoon. I just wanted to hear his voice and to tell him that I got certified for scuba diving.

  “Congratulations!” he told me. “I'm proud of you, Km.”

  “It was so cool, Dad. I wasn't even scared. And it's so great going down under the water. So much quieter than snorkeling. Like a whole different world.”

  “Sounds great, sweetie.”

  “I wish you could come to Grandma's,” I said suddenly. “Hey, why don't you take some time off, have a little vacation?”

  “I'd love to, Km, but you know that I used up all my vacation time…and then some.”

  “Yeah,” I said, remembering how Dad had taken Mom and me on some special trips before she died.

  “Well, maybe you and I can come back here some other time,” I told him. “And you can get certified for scuba.”

  “I've heard of a class here at the community college. They hold it at the pool and then you go to the lake for your final dive.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah,” he said and his voice was enthusiastic, almost happy even. “That would be cool.”

  So I continued telling him about some of the strange sea creatures I saw today, and he sounded really interested, like he really would like to come down here and try this out, as well as to get reacquainted with Garth and his mom. He almost sounded like my old dad, the one I knew before Mom got sick.

  “When do you think you'd like to come home?” he asked in a hesitant tone. We were just getting ready to say good-bye.

  “I don't know for sure.”

  “You've been having such a great time…” He paused. “I wasn't sure if you ever wanted to come back.”

  “Oh, Dad.”

  “And I really want you to stay as long as you like, Kim. I think it's been a healthy break for you. And I know Mom and Garth love having you around. The last time I spoke to Mom she was gushing about what a terrific girl you are. Not that I don't agree, of course.”

  “Actually, I was starting to feel like maybe it was time to come home,” I admitted. “But it'll be hard to leave this place. I feel so incredibly comfortable here. It's odd, like I just kind of fit in—and yet it's so totally different than home. Isn't that weird?”

  “I don't know, Kim. But I believe the change has been just what you needed. I'm glad you're down there.”

  “Well, for sure I don't want to come home before the Fourth of July celebration on Thursday. Both Grandma and Uncle Garth say it's something you don't want to miss. But maybe after that…”

  “Want me to look into scheduling your return ticket for this weekend?” He sounded hopeful now, and I wondered if he'd been missing me more than he let on.

  “Sure, Dad. That sounds great.”

  So it was settled. He'd get back to me with the details. But after we hung up, I wasn't so sure that I was quite ready to go home yet.

  And when I told Grandma and Uncle Garth about this decision, they were clearly disappointed.

  “But you just got here,” said Grandma.

  “And you just got your scuba certificate,” said Uncle Garth.

  “I know, but I think my dad might be lonely.”

  “Oh, well,” said Grandma quickly. “Then it's understandable.”

  Uncle Garth nodded. “Yeah, it's not good to be lonely”

  Friday, July 5

  I can't believe that I'll be leaving here tomorrow morning. Part of me is excited to get home, to see my friends, and g
et back to my old life again. But another part of me is sad. I feel like I could just stay here forever. Although I suspect that may be a bit of escapist thinking—like I'm scared to go back and face my life. I still remember what Nat said—how lucky I was to be able to run away from my problems. And maybe that's not completely untrue. But then everyone needs to take a break sometimes.

  The fireworks display over the bay was absolutely fantastic last night. We fixed a picnic dinner and rode into town in Grandma s Cadillac, getting ourselves a good spot close to the water where we set up lawn chairs. I was surprised at how many people stopped by to say hello. I didn't realize that Grandma had so many friends. And of course, Uncle Garth's friends came by too. But I know most of them by now. They're just regular folks who work here and there in town, leading simple lives, who are pretty laid back and easygoing. It really is a different world, and I think the rest of the world could learn a thing or two from it. Like how to relax and just lighten up.

  I felt sad as I packed my things tonight—sorry that this would be the last time (at least for this summer) that I'd get to stay in my little seashell room, listening to the frogs and crickets and all the other wildlife critters that live on the other side of the screened window. But I felt something else too. I wasn't even sure what it was at first, but it's like something was gnawing at me, just beneath my skin. Not literally, of course, that would be creepy. But something was tugging at me, nudging me, nagging at me to pay attention.

  Finally, I got everything packed and ready to go. And I was just standing here in this sweet little room, looking around and trying to figure out what was bothering me. What was it?

  And then, almost as if I was having a panic attack, my heart started pounding hard. I put my hand on my chest just to see if it was real or something I was imagining. But I could feel it—its as if I was ready for something to happen—like fight or flight, the adrenaline rush that energizes you to do something. I just didn't know what. So I stood there quietly waiting. Feeling as if the roof was about to cave in. Or an earthquake. Or perhaps an alligator going to bust through my door and take a bite of me.