The Way Back

by Carrie Mac

  the fox

  First of all, Colby had to get clean. If getting pregnant wasn’t enough of a kick in the pants, Colby figured she should just jump off a bridge now. Even if she wasn’t keeping the baby, it wasn’t fair to soak it in meth.

  Twenty minutes after she peed on the pregnancy-test stick and an hour after she got high, Colby walked to the nearest Ministry of Children and Family Development office and right up to the front desk.

  “I need rehab.”

  The secretary looked up. “Good morning.” She pointed to a sign on the wall. Please take a number.

  “I’m pregnant.” Colby put a hand to her stomach. “If I wait, I’ll puke. On the carpet.”

  “Okeydokey.” The secretary wrinkled her nose, but her smile was kind. “Sit for a minute. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Colby sat, one hand in her purse on the waxed-paper bag Gram had given her before she left. It was like the ones on the airplane, tall and narrow with the little tabs that fold in. Colby glanced at it. She doubted she could get all the barf into it. It was a very small bag.

  Colby surveyed the people nearby, trying to distract herself. A fat woman with three kids fighting over the one piece of chalk in the play corner. Two more toddlers wrestling with a broken yellow truck while their moms ignored them. A girl about Colby’s age with an infant in her lap. The baby stared at Colby with damp eyes, one finger hooked in the corner of its mouth.

  “Boy or girl?” Colby asked.

  “Boy.” The girl gave him a halfhearted bounce on her knee.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Aiden.”

  “That’s nice.” And then the nausea welled up again and Colby stared at her feet, gripping the barf bag in one hand.

  “You pregnant?” the girl asked.

  Colby nodded.

  “Congratulations.” There was snark in her tone. Colby wasn’t sure what to say back. “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?”

  “Like, get rid of it? Or have it?” The girl blinked at her. “I had, like, three abortions before I had him. And I only had him because I didn’t know I was pregnant until, like, way too late. I thought I was getting fat.”

  Colby straightened. “Wow.”

  “So?”

  “What?” Colby put a hand to her mouth and muttered, “Excuse me.” She lurched to her feet and ran out the door. She managed to open the bag, but, as she suspected, most of the vomit splattered onto the sidewalk. She put a hand on a wall and heaved. “Stupid bag.” She flung it to the ground.

  An old lady waiting for the bus handed Colby a wet wipe. “There you go, dear. Take a breath. Get it all out.”

  “Thank you.” Colby heaved again, but nothing came. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh, lovely!” The old lady handed her another wet wipe. “I love babies. I love their wee toes. And their soft heads.”

  “Me too,” Colby blurted.

  “Must be on my way. You keep these.” She handed Colby the packet of wet wipes. She put her palm on Colby’s flat tummy. “Congratulations, dear. What a gift.”

  Colby returned to the office. She didn’t know if she liked baby toes or their soft heads. She’d just said it because she wasn’t sure what else to say. She’d looked after kids sometimes, but never little babies. She didn’t know if she liked babies at all.

  The girl with the baby was gone, and Colby was glad for it. She didn’t want to answer any questions about what she was going to do with the baby.

  When she thought about getting rid of it, she felt a wash of anxiety flush through her.

  When she thought about having it, she felt the same wash of worry.

  Right now, she needed to get clean.

  The secretary waved. “Ready for you.”

  She pointed Colby toward a door held open by a slender man wearing a blue bow tie and blue-and-green-striped suspenders.

  “That’s a pretty gay outfit,” Colby said as he ushered her through.

  “That’s the point.” He led them to his office, decorated with framed art of foxes. Illustrations, paintings, even the print on the curtains had jolly little foxes on them. Colby sat. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  Colby pointed to the row of ceramic and plastic foxes lined up along the front of his desk. “What’s with the foxes?”

  “Dapper and debonair. Like me. I collect them.”

  “No shit. Super gay.”

  “No shit, indeed. I’m Mr. Horvath, Super Gay.”

  “You’re not old enough to be called mister.”

  “Then you can call me sir.”

  “All right, sir.” Colby picked up a small plastic fox and turned it in her hand.

  “Now, let’s talk about you.” Mr. Horvath sat back and crossed his legs. He gripped his top knee with both hands and smiled. “Janet at the front mentioned rehab. You want to go to rehab.”

  “Yeah.” Colby nodded. “Right away. Like, now.”

  “That’s unlikely.” Mr. Horvath uncrossed his legs and pulled his chair to his desk. He typed something and stared at the computer screen. “Typically it’s a six-week wait.” He scrolled down the screen. “Puts us in mid-July.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Without even glancing up, he typed some more. “Okay, then. That changes things.” He sat back again. “Be ready tomorrow.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Clean mommies make for healthier babies.”

  “Right.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “Six weeks.”

  “You sound pretty sure.”

  “I’m positive.”

  “We’ll arrange a dating ultrasound while you’re in rehab.” Mr. Horvath stood. “I’ll be right back, with a cup you’ll need to pee in.”

  “I know exactly when it happened.”

  “Still. We like to be sure.”

  “I am totally sure.”

  “Yes, well, I hear that a lot. Plus, we’ll test for drugs. What will we find?”

  “Meth. Heroin. Some other stuff too probably.”

  “All right. Be right back.”

  As soon as he left, Colby shuffled the toy foxes closer together, filling in the gap where the one in her hand had been. She tucked that one in her purse.

  Mr. Horvath came back and handed her a cup with an orange lid and a little baggie with her name on it. “Pee into the cup, cup goes into the bag, bag goes into the cupboard beside the toilet. Easy peasy.”

  “Where am I going?”

  “Down the hall, first door on your left.”

  “No, I mean tomorrow.”

  “Meadow Farm. Near Powell River. For expectant moms or moms with kids. Lovely place.”

  Expectant moms. It sounded so old-fashioned, like his bow tie and suspenders.

  “You’ve been?”

  “Seen the brochures. Waterfront. Nice log buildings. Indoor pool.”

  Reminded, he pulled open his file cabinet and held out a brochure.

  “Wait.” He didn’t let Colby take the brochure. “All of this is based on the fact that you’re going through with the pregnancy. If you have plans to terminate it, we can come up with a different place for you.”

  Colby shook her head. She didn’t want to wait six weeks for rehab, even if she wasn’t going to keep the baby. She wanted to go now.

  “Keeping it.”

  First things first. Get clean. She needed time and space to think, away from everything.

  If she decided on an abortion, she’d have to leave rehab to get it done in time. If she was going to keep the baby, she wanted to do right by it. As that thought occurred to her, another one did too. If she was going to have the baby and give it away, she still wanted to do right by the baby.

  No matter what she decided, getting clean was the first step.

  Abortion.

  Adoption.

  Keep it.

  Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch an unwanted baby by the toe.

  She’d have to make a decision, but first, sh
e’d have to make it until tomorrow without getting high.

  “Thank you, Mr. Horvath.”

  “You’re welcome. You’re doing the right thing, no matter what you decide about the pregnancy. And if you decide to terminate while you’re at Meadow Farm, we can make arrangements.”

  Colby bristled. She didn’t like it when people knew what she was thinking. Gram was always doing that.

  “And you can keep the fox. Consider it a talisman.”

  “I—” Colby didn’t know what to say. And then she did. She reached out a hand, and Mr. Horvath took it, and they shook. “Thank you, Mr. Horvath. I appreciate it.”

  extreme barf warning

  The next morning, Colby and Gigi got into a huge fight. It started while they were still in bed. Gigi had the top bunk and Colby had the bottom. Colby was just waking up, and there was Gigi’s face, upside down, staring at her, her long curls trailing down.

  “You have to tell me before you go.”

  Colby shook her head. She rolled onto her side and swallowed, already tasting the bile she knew she’d have to deal with soon.

  “Tell me!” Gigi jumped down from the bunk and straddled Colby. “Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me.”

  “Get off me.” Colby gave Gigi a halfhearted shove. “Seriously.”

  But Gigi just bounced, squishing Colby’s queasy stomach. “Seriously, tell me.”

  “Get the hell off of me or I’ll projectile-puke right in your face.”

  “Fine.” Gigi climbed off. She stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. “Go puke. And then come back and tell me who the hell you had sex with.”

  Suddenly, Colby wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom. She grabbed the bucket she’d placed beside the bed and barfed.

  “Nasty.” Gigi grimaced. But she stood there and watched nonetheless. “Tell me.”

  “Screw off, Gigi.”

  “Screw you, Colby.”

  “Well…” Colby fought back a dry heave and smirked. “Someone did.”

  “That’s it.” Gigi shook her head. “We’re done.” She shoved her cell phone in Colby’s face. “See this? I’m removing you from my contact list. That’s right. I won’t have your number. So I won’t be calling or texting you while you’re off at preggo-teen-mom rehab jail. And when you get back, you can find someone else to mooch off. Get out.”

  “Considering that my ride will be here in half an hour, that was the plan.” Colby pulled off her pajamas and traded them for yoga pants and a tank top, barely one step up from pajamas. She fished under the bed for her flip-flops. “Sorry if that messes with your element of drama.”

  “I hate you right now.” Gigi sighed. “I hope it’s just the pregnant you that I hate. I hope that when you get an abortion, you’ll go back to being cool.” And with that, she stalked out of the room, cell phone to her ear. “I’m calling Milo and telling him what a bitch you’re being.”

  “You do that.” Colby burped, tasting bile again. “Just don’t tell him that I’m pregnant.”

  Milo.

  Gigi’s older brother.

  Gigi’s gay older brother.

  Gigi’s gay older brother who she’d kind of had sex with six weeks ago.

  Colby slipped on her flip-flops, and then she was nauseous again. She barfed into the bucket. When she looked up, Gram stood in the doorway, holding a bag of whole almonds.

  “Protein. Take a handful before you get out of bed, and it will help with the morning sickness.”

  “Thanks, Gram.” Colby took the bag and wedged it into her suitcase. “I’d be happy if it was only morning sickness.” She glanced at Gram and smiled. Gram, who had no clue that this baby was actually related to her. Gram, who was still praying Milo would turn out straight. Gram, who deeply believed that he just needed to find the right girl.

  Colby had always wanted to be the right girl for Milo. The one who could make him jump the fence. And even while she knew he’d never be straight, all it took was some Ecstasy and a bottle of wine and she’d managed to convince him to give it a try. Just once.

  He’d laughed the whole time, and it wasn’t until she turned over and suggested that he imagine she was some hot guy that he finally got off. She thought he’d pulled out.

  Guess not.

  He’d joked about it after, but even he didn’t tell anyone about what they did. As if having sex with her somehow made him less gay. He said she’d been his experiment.

  If she didn’t get an abortion, she’d have to tell Milo.

  Chalk that up as one more reason to get rid of the baby.

  A car honked outside. Gram reached for the suitcase, but Colby gently pushed her arthritic hand away. “I’ve got it. Thanks, Gram.”

  “You’re doing a good thing. No drugs. Clear mind. You’ll be able to think of a plan for how you will take care of your baby.”

  In Gram’s mind, the baby was already a full-fledged member of the family.

  If she only knew how true that actually was.

  “It’s early, still.” Colby wheeled her suitcase down the hall behind Gram. “I was looking on the Internet, and it says one in five pregnancies end up miscarrying. Don’t get too attached, Gram.”

  “Your baby will be fine.” Gram opened the door. “I know it in here.” She tapped her heart.

  A minivan idled at the curb. Colby squinted. The female driver had dreads and enormous sunglasses. There were three other people in the van, one in the passenger seat and one each in the rows behind.

  “I love you, Gram.”

  “I love you too.” Gram kissed her. “And that baby.” She gave Colby’s stomach a pat and then turned back inside.

  No one came to help her with her suitcase, so Colby went ahead and lifted it into the trunk. She came around to the passenger side and knocked on the window. The girl sitting there was fat, with a buzz cut and a lip ring. Heroin was definitely not her drug of choice.

  The window opened. “Yeah?”

  “Hi. I’m Colby.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I—uh, I’m going with you guys to—”

  “Meadow Farm, yeah.” The girl gestured behind her. “Door’s unlocked.”

  “I get carsick.”

  The girl stared at her. “Got a barf bag?”

  “I was hoping I could sit in the front? It’s better.”

  “I was hoping there wouldn’t be any bitches. Guess we’re both disappointed, huh?”

  At this point, the driver leaned over. “I’m Tori. Hi. You’re Colby.”

  “I need to sit in the front.”

  “Maybe I do too.” The girl stared straight ahead. “Besides, I called shotgun.”

  “Colby, this is Jordan. Jordan, Colby.” Tori straightened. Colby glanced at the rear seats. Two women, one sprawled on each row. The one in the very back was hugely pregnant. “How about you ride in the front after the ferry?”

  “She’s got a stack of magazines to read,” Colby said. “Obviously, she doesn’t get carsick.” She glanced at the magazines. Out, Curve, Gay Life. Before all of this, Colby would’ve wondered how a butch dyke could end up pregnant. Not now.

  “Actually, I do get carsick.” Jordan smirked. “If I’m in the back.”

  “Fine.” Colby flung open the sliding door and glared at the woman who was taking up the whole bench. “Do you mind?”

  “I do.” The woman made a big production of pulling her legs up so there was just enough room for Colby and she could still be mostly lying down.

  “This should be fun.” Colby pulled out her earphones and plugged them into her phone as Tori steered the van back into the traffic heading west.

  “Super fun!” Tori chirped.

  Not five minutes later, Colby was about to puke. She leaned forward as far as she could and barfed down the side of Jordan’s seat. With the second heave, some got on Jordan’s sleeve and spattered the stack of magazines.

  “You bitch!” Jordan screamed.

  “Ugh.” Colby belched. “Going to barf again.”<
br />
  “Pulling over!” Tori said. “Hold on.”

  “You said you had a bag, bitch!” Jordan scrubbed at her sleeve with a napkin. “It’s all over me.”

  “Told you I’d get sick if I sat back here.” Colby leaned back. She pulled a wet wipe from her bag and wiped her face with it. She took a sip of water and popped a mint into her mouth. While Tori helped Jordan clean up, Colby closed her eyes. Her head ached, her stomach rumbled, and she wanted to get high.

  Meadow Farm

  Once Colby was released from the medical detox wing, Meadow Farm was pretty awesome. If she didn’t include the agony of her first couple of days there, she could imagine that Meadow Farm was a lot like the summer camps Colby never went to as a kid. There was a main lodge—where Colby stayed in a room with three other girls—a pool and a nightly campfire. Small cabins for moms and their kids ringed the actual meadow, and there was a playground, and a trail led down to the beach. The counselors were all mellow and easygoing, and no one asked nosy questions.

  So far Colby hadn’t told anyone that she was pregnant. She didn’t want to talk about it, so she let people think she was already a mom. There were several girls whose kids were in foster care. She let everyone think she was one of them. She didn’t lie about it. She just didn’t say otherwise. The girls who were pregnant never shut up about it. It didn’t matter if they were keeping the baby or not. They talked about being pregnant. A lot.

  Colby didn’t want to talk. Maybe not ever. And there’d be no reason to, once she had an abortion.

  Or if she had an abortion.

  Or once she decided to keep the baby.

  Either way, it was nobody’s business.

  Either way, Colby couldn’t decide.

  She wanted the baby. She didn’t want the baby.

  She wanted to get high. She didn’t want to get high.

  She wanted to be at Meadow Farm. She didn’t want to be at Meadow Farm.

  She wanted to tell Milo. She didn’t want to tell Milo.

  Well, that last one wasn’t quite true. She did want to tell him. Just not yet. Whenever they talked on the phone, she could tell that he knew there was more to what was going on. Colby was sure that Gigi hadn’t told him, even after their fight. But still, he knew something was up.