by Maggie Wells
Candace rested her fingers on the keyboard for several minutes while she thought about whether to post a comment. What would I say? I’m seventeen and I’ve been accepted to Princeton. But I got knocked up by a guy who doesn’t even care about me? I’ve ruined my life and I don’t know how to tell my parents? Geez, what a mess!
While she was sitting there a new post appeared.
Jasmine: “Can I Live is based on a true story from Nick Cannon. Check out his music video . . . ”
Candace clicked on the link and started tearing up as she watched the young rapper beg his seventeen-year-old pregnant mom not to abort him. She sat back in her chair and cradled her belly.
Luciana posted a comment. “Making a big life change is scary. But you know what’s even scarier? Regret.”
Candace sent friend requests to all the girls on the group hoping that they would accept and she could follow them on her feed.
Ten
* * *
THE NEXT TIME CANDACE CHECKED HER FACEBOOK FEED, they were all there!
Candy: Hi! I’m 17—I’m supposed to be starting college in the fall. I got into Princeton but my parents don’t know that I’m pregnant.
Aleecia: Where is the baby-daddy?
Candy: He’s back in Italy with his family. He doesn’t know.
Shawna: You gotta tell him, girl! He should step up.
Candy: I doubt it. He’s already moved on. We haven’t really talked since spring break.
Isabella: Tell your parents. Today. Let me know what happens.
Suddenly her bedroom door opened and Julia, their Jamaican housekeeper, poked her head in.
“Hey, you could knock?” Candace immediately regretted her tone. Why am I so irritable? she wondered.
“I did knock, Miss Candace,” Julia said. “You don’t hear me with those headphones. Your mother sent me to fetch you for dinner. Come and eat.”
Dinner at the Parker home was a formal affair. Daddy and Mommy sat stiffly at opposite ends of the dining room table, which Julia polished to a high sheen every Thursday afternoon. Candace and Sara took their places and sat with their hands in their laps while Julia set their plates in front of them. Candace glumly surveyed her ration of broccoli and steamed salmon, while eyeing the mound of mashed potatoes on Sara’s plate. If she was going to get any of those she was going to have to spill the news. They wouldn’t starve a fetus, would they?
“In other news . . . ” Candace said.
“What is it, Candace?” Mommy said, not looking up from her plate.
Sara was looking at Candace curiously.
“I’m going to have a baby,” Candace said. “Can I have some mashed potatoes?”
Daddy put his glass down hard on the table, the water sloshing over the edge to form a puddle. Mommy’s knife clattered onto her plate. She appeared to deflate into her chair. They looked at each other. Nobody looked at Candace—including Sara, who stared down at her mound of mashed potatoes.
“You’re pregnant?” Mommy said at last.
“Wow. That is big news,” Daddy said.
“That boy!” Mommy said. “Danilo, right?”
“Yes, but he doesn’t know. Like you said, Mommy, he’s gone and I’m never going to see him again. Can I puh-lease have some mashed potatoes? I’m eating for two here,” Candace said.
Julia looked at Mommy for approval and walked to the kitchen to retrieve the bowl of potatoes. She set it in front of Candace, who helped herself to a generous serving.
“I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Bird in the morning,” Mommy said. “I believe she performs abortions.” She went back to picking at her salmon.
“I’m keeping the baby,” Candace said. “I’ve decided.”
“Whoa,” Daddy said. “That’s a big decision. Shouldn’t we talk about this? About your future? What about Princeton?”
Candace had already thought about that. Surely Princeton accepts mothers? The housing options were single, double, four-person suite. Where did they house the mothers with babies?
“I don’t think you’ve thought this through, Candace,” Mommy said. “Come to the doctor with me and we’ll talk about it.”
“I didn’t pay private school tuition for you to fuck around and get yourself knocked up,” Daddy shouted and pounded the table, spilling more water.
“George! Not in front of Sara!” Mommy said.
Candace was starting to feel the first stirrings of life in her belly. She visualized, with some sense of pleasure, a swarthy little toad with a full head of coarse, curly hair inside her. She was thinking of naming him Squirt. Or Bean Sprout. She imagined she could feel him coiling on his hind legs to leap against the walls of her womb, bashing his little bug-eyed head into her again and again. It made her giggle. And it made her wet her pants a little.
“Candace?” Daddy was looking at her with a worried expression. “You’re not saying anything. And you have an odd look on your face. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to lie down?”
“I’m fine, Daddy.”
As Candace finished the pile of mashed potatoes and slouched in her dining chair cradling her belly in her hands, her parents exchanged startled looks.
After dinner, Candace rushed back upstairs to check in on Facebook.
Candy: I told my parents!
Isabella: And? Girl, don’t keep us in suspense!
Candy: My mother is going to call her gyno to schedule an abortion.
Aleecia: They can’t make you do that!
Candy: I know. But how am I supposed to have a baby and go to college?
Jasmine: People do it.
Shawna: Sharon Osborne says having an abortion was the worst thing she ever did.
Candace checked out Danilo’s Facebook and saw that he had changed his profile photo. He had his arm around a tall blonde girl in a tiny bikini. It looked like they were on a boat in the Mediterranean.
Well that’s just peaches, isn’t it? Goodbye, Danilo!
The next morning, Mommy drove Candace to the Women’s Health Center on Route 9 in Brookline.
“How did we get an appointment so soon?” Candace said.
“I told them that you were further along and that we couldn’t wait too long for the abortion,” Mommy said,
“I don’t want kill Squirt,” Candace said.
“Who?”
“I can feel him, I don’t want to kill him,” Candace said.
“Oh, dear,” Mommy said.
In the examination room, Candace lay on the table as Dr. Bird squeezed some cold gel onto her belly and ran the ultrasound wand in circles up and around her lower abdomen.
“Eek, that’s cold!” Candace said.
Dr. Bird turned the monitor toward Candace’s head. “Do you want to see the baby?” she asked.
“No!” said Mommy. “We came in to get an abortion.”
“We don’t do abortions here,” said Dr. Bird. “I can refer you to a clinic.”
“I want to see Squirt,” Candace said.
“She keeps calling it Squirt . . . I don’t know,” Mommy said, shaking her head.
Dr. Bird pressed the wand against Candace’s abdomen and pointed to the monitor. “Here’s the heartbeat. That’s pretty much all you can see at this stage. You’re what, about sixteen weeks? Come back in a month and we’ll be able to see fingers and toes and determine the sex.”
“How do you determine the sex?” Candace asked.
“Well, if we see a penis—it’s a boy,” Dr. Bird said. “It’s kind of obvious.”
“Oh, good grief,” Mommy said.
Dr. Bird wiped the goop off of Candace’s abdomen. “Why don’t you come into my office and let’s talk,” she said.
Dr. Bird’s office was small and Mommy and Candace sat elbow-to-elbow facing her across a cluttered desk.
“Candace,” Dr. Bird said. “There’s still time for you to consider your options. Abortion is still an option. Adoption is another option. If you choose to abort, it will take a few weeks for your body
to eliminate the hormones and then you’ll start to feel like yourself again. But carrying a baby to term will have a profound affect on your body and your mental health.”
“I want to keep it,” Candace said.
“So I guess it’s adoption,” said Mommy.
“I said I’m keeping it!” Candace said.
“You have a few months to think about that, Candace. Keep your options open. Don’t forget about Princeton,” Mommy said. “Your father will never forgive you.”
Princeton again. Dammit.
Back at home, Candace locked herself in her room and pulled up the Princeton website. On the page for new admissions she saw a button that said “Request Deferral.” She stared at the page and just then, Squirt leapt, bashing his curly little head against her bladder. She felt her panties get damp.
“Okay, kid,” Candace said. “I get it.” She clicked on the button.
She logged onto Facebook and posted.
Candy: I deferred college.
Jasmine: No!
Shawna: Me too. I’ll go back at night I guess.
Candy: My parents want me to give the baby up.
Isabella: Everything in your life is a reflection of a choice you have made. If you want a different result, make a different choice. | 28 people liked this.
Eleven
* * *
CANDACE WAS AT TARGET SHOPPING FOR BABY SUPPLIES. Her cart was stuffed with a portable crib and mattress, diapers, bottles, a collapsible stroller, and a BabyBjorn.
“Candy, hi!”
Candace spun around to see Sonya and Emily, two friends from Brookline.
They were pushing baskets loaded with comforters, pillows, notebooks, calculators, and batteries.
“College shopping?” Candace asked weakly.
“Yeah! Crazy huh?” Emily said. “My mom gave me her credit card. Look at this loot!”
“Princeton, right?” Sonya said. “I saw your Facebook.”
Damn. Candace suddenly realized she needed to update her status.
“I deferred my admission,” she said. “I’m taking a gap year.” More like a baby gap year, she thought.
“Wow! Are you going to be volunteering someplace exciting?” Emily said.
Seeing the cart piled with baby supplies, Sonya asked, “Are you going to be working with children? That would be awesome!”
“Where are you going?” Candace changed the subject.
“Cornell,” they said in unison.
“Pre-med,” said Emily.
“Hotel management,” said Sonya.
“Awesome,” said Candace without enthusiasm. “Well, gotta go.”
“Great seeing you, Candy! Let’s grab brunch before we leave,” said Emily.
“Sure!” said Candace. “Definitely.” She steered her cart away from the checkout counters and into the deepest reaches of the menswear section, hoping Sonya and Emily would be checking out and leaving soon. She parked her cart behind a tall display of hoodie sweatshirts and sat on the edge of a counter stacked with Levi’s.
“That was awkward,” she said to Squirt. She had been talking to him a lot lately. “I’m so lonely,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “You are my only companion, and by the way, you’re a good listener,” she said as she caressed her belly. “I really appreciate that you never argue with me or insult me with cutting comments like Mommy does. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you; that was rude, I know. I’m not ashamed; I’m really not. But to tell you the truth, I wish that was me—us—sorry, packing for college. And it’s not your fault that I’m deferring a year. I don’t want you to ever feel guilty about ruining my life. I mean you’re not ruining my life. I’m doing that just fine by myself.”
She looked up and saw him. “Oh shit! Sorry, Squirt—language. You’re not going to believe who is here. What is he doing here? In Target?”
Danilo was browsing in the men’s underwear section. In a panic, Candace abandoned her cart and started to walk in the opposite direction.
“Candace?”
“Fuck, he’s spotted us! Sorry again, Squirt.”
Candace took a hoodie off the rack and held it up like a curtain in front of her. “Danilo? Fancy meeting you here. In Target. Aren’t you supposed to be in Italy?”
“Change of plans. My father made me apply to a bunch of American schools and I got into Boston College. So here I am,” he said. “He thinks it will be easier for me to find a job on Wall Street if I have an American diploma.”
“No shit! Sorry,” she whispered in the general direction of her belly button. “So you’ll be going to college two miles from where I live?”
“Well, yeah, but you’ll be at Princeton. New Jersey, right?”
“Uh, right!”
“So how are you?” he said. “You look great—your hair so shiny and your skin, what’s the word? Luminous!”
Candace was taken aback. She had forgotten how free he was with the compliments. That Italian upbringing.
“Thank you, you look nice, too. Didn’t I see on Facebook that you had a girlfriend? Lots of pictures of her.”
“Ah yes, another reason my father banished me to this forsaken backwater. He didn’t approve. Her family wasn’t quite at our level,” he said.
“Well, then he probably wouldn’t approve of me, either?” she said.
“No, of course not.”
Wow. That stings! At that moment, Candace made a pact with Squirt that Danilo was never going to know about him, was never going to be able to hurt him or reject him or tell him that he wasn’t at the right level. Screw you! Sorry, Squirt, she thought.
“Well I really need to get going. It was nice to see you.” Candace was still holding the stupid hoodie in front of herself, hoping Danilo would turn and walk away so she could hide until he, too, had left the store. Memo to self, Candace thought, avoid Target on back-to-school sale days. He was still standing there. What now? “You must have lots of shopping to do? Ba-bye now,” she said.
“This shitty store? No, I don’t shop here.”
Really, then what were you doing in the underwear section, fingering the boxers and briefs? Candace hoped that Squirt could read her thoughts. What a phony!
“Okay, then,” she said, tossing the hoodie onto the Levi display. “See ya.” She retrieved her basket and navigated it to the checkout counter. Screw everyone. Sorry, Squirt, she thought.
When she got home, she logged onto Facebook.
Candy: I saw my baby-daddy in Target!
Luciana: OMG! Did he see you?
Candy: Yeah, but he didn’t seem to notice my baby bump. I tried to hide it.
Jasmine: You didn’t tell him?
Candy: He said some shit about me not being good enough for his family.
Luciana: That’s just fucked up!
Candy: I know, right?
Aleecia: Am I the only girl who feels alone? It seems like my friends prefer to not think I’m pregnant. Nobody invites me to hang out anymore.
Candy: You’re not the only one. I saw my BFFs at Target too. They were shopping for dorm stuff.
Shawna: Once the baby is here you won’t be alone.
“Mommy, what’s la mas class?” Candace asked one morning at breakfast.
“Look it up on the Google,” Mommy said. She didn’t look up from her newspaper.
“You mean, Google it?” Sara asked, giggling.
“Whatever!” Mommy said. Sara went to find her iPad.
Mommy glared at Candace. “Where did you hear about that?”
“There was a pregnant lady in line in front of me at Target and she said something to her husband about la mas class. Is that Spanish for something?”
Sara came back into the kitchen. “How do you spell it?”
“It’s Lamaze,” Mommy said. “L-a-m-a-z-e. They teach women how to give birth.”
Candace’s eyes widened. “How do you do it?”
“Look,” Mommy said. “Your body knows what to do. But it is very painful and scary. Lamaze te
aches you what to expect and how to get through it.”
Sara was busy swiping her iPad.
“Oh, here it is. Here it is,” she said. “There’s a class at Brigham and Women’s in Longwood. We can walk there. Let’s sign up!”
“Both of us?” asked Candace.
“You need a partner, a coach,” said Mommy. “Usually it’s the father, but it can be a sister or a friend. Whoever is going to be there in the delivery room with you.”
“Me, me, me. Pick me,” said Sara. She bounced up and down in her chair. “I wanna be the coach!”
“Okay,” said Candace. “Sign us up.”
Sara swiped and clicked on her iPad and held out her hand. “Credit card, Mommy.”
Mommy sighed. “Bring me my purse.”
Sara dashed into the study.
“Sara!” Mommy yelled. “Don’t run in the house—you sound like a herd of elephants.”
Sara came tiptoeing back into the kitchen with Mommy’s wallet.
Mommy dug out her Visa card and handed it to Sara.
Sara clicked and swiped some more. “We have two choices,” she said. “Saturday morning at ten or Sunday evening at six. I’m thinking Saturday.”
“Agreed,” Candace said.
Sara clicked once more. “Done!” she said.
Twelve
* * *
ON SATURDAY MORNING, THE GIRLS WENT DOWN TO breakfast dressed in sweat pants and T-shirts.
“Going to the gym?” asked Daddy.
“Lamaze class,” said Sara.
“What the fuck?” Daddy exclaimed. “Lois, did you know about this?”
“Don’t look at me,” Mommy said. “Sara signed them up.”
“Sara?” Daddy’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “She has a credit card? Sara is now making the financial decisions for the family?”