diving deep freeze,
glacier blue.
Graveyard cold
hugged me tight,
rattling teeth and bones.
Chase called my
name. Ms. Sweetwater
skittered to her feet
and everything went black.
Passing Out
is the strangest thing.
One minute
you’re here.
Then with a mere
cerebral flutter,
you’re not.
Part of your brain
insists you’re dead.
Of course, you’re not.
Another part says it’s
better there, in the dark.
Where, exactly, are you?
Somewhere, you hear
voices, urgent.
Could you be in limbo?
A thin beam of light
calls to you.
Will you reach heaven?
Brighter now,
white and beautiful.
You hurry in that direction.
Your eyes acquiesce,
and open to discover …
you’re back in hell, after all.
Voices
Oh Yeah, I Was Fine
Dandy in fact.
Pregnant by a sex fiend.
Starving for the monster.
Scared to admit either
to those close to me
who remained
clueless eyes closed to every
negative thing about me, or
dying to know every
dirty little tidbit.
And the only one
who knew every little
negative, dirty thing
would have
forgiven me anything.
Chase Steadied Me
as we walked to his truck,
hand in hand. He opened
the door, helped me inside,
slid in behind the wheel.
So tell me.
I considered playing
ignorant, but knew he
wouldn’t let go.
“About the baby …”
My eyes unlocked
from his, but not quickly
enough to conceal the truth.
Brendan is the father.
My throat constricted,
like a rubber band twisting
around my admission.
“Oh, God, Chase.
It’s all so wrong!”
Our eyes reconnected.
In his, I found sympathy.
And jealousy.
It doesn’t matter, Kristina.
We can make it right.
He Drove Me Home—Slowly
My stomach flip-flopped
with every curve and brake.
Finally, he asked,
So what do you think?
I had no answers.
None at all.
So he joked,
Should be a cute kid, anyway.
Which made me smile
but still gave me no answers.
He offered,
Don’t answer me now.
Not then, but soon.
I was already six weeks p.g.
He probed,
I know it’s a tough decision …
Tough. Too tough.
And all mine to make.
He dared,
but life is full of tough decisions.
Like a guy would ever
have to face this one.
He suggested,
Maybe you should talk to your mom.
My Mom?!?!
The ice princess? The bitch queen?
The “mother” of all mothers?
What was he thinking?
How could I talk to her?
We hadn’t really talked in months.
What would I tell her now?
That I was pregnant?
That I was pregnant because I was raped?
That I was raped because I would have done
for just one more taste of the monster?
Where would I start?
Where would I finish?
How much to admit?
How much to hide?
How much to confess?
Where would I find such nerve
without crank to open my mouth?
And if I did dig down deep enough to find it,
would I crumble and weep?
Would she?
The Kitchen Was Warm
and carried a scent
of hot butter, wrapped
in cinnamon.
It reminded me
of when I was little.
Before Jake.
Before Scott.
Despite Dad.
Back when I still believed
Mom was the perfect mother.
She, Leigh, and I were the trinity.
We baked together.
Canned together.
Planned together.
Plotted birthdays
and holidays around
homemade gifts
that didn’t cost much
but time and love.
And the fun was not only
in the giving, but
in the shared creation.
I adored Mom then.
Could my own child
ever love me so?
Somehow She Didn’t Notice
the wavering tone of my “Hi, Mom.”
I sat down at the table and she brought
me a plate of warm oatmeal cookies.
Hi, Honey. How was your day?
I almost laughed. I almost cried.
I managed to hold both inside. “Okay.”
Good deal. Hey, I need your input.
My input? Was this some odd
attempt at bonding?
What should we get Leigh
for Christmas?
Christmas. It would come right
on schedule, despite my predicament.
I already put an Xbox
on layaway for Jake.
Whatever choices I made, Jake would
indulge in the latest video games.
And I got Scott a new
set of clubs.
Come spring, regardless of my decision,
Scott would enjoy a great game of golf.
But I’m just not sure about Leigh….
Leigh. Would she ever know
the pleasure—or terror—of pregnancy?
Does she have a DVD player?
I bobbed my head. “Heather does.
How about a Palm Pilot?”
Great idea! Leigh’s so disorganized!
The ice princess gently stroked
my hair, and for one very scary instant…
There’s the buzzer. More cookies?
I verged on coming clean.
I Opened My Mouth
just as Scott rumbled
through the door,
winding down what
I guessed must have
been a very long ramble:
… out-of-touch politicians …
… the !@#!*#@economy …
… the next round of layoffs …
… the boss’s decision to scale
back raises and Christmas
bonuses, despite signing
off on his own 20% pay hike …
So much for ho-ho-ho.
So much for confessions.
So much for answers.
And then Mom made
the mistake of turning
on the radio as a weather
forecaster announced
we could expect snow,
and enough of it for
the ski resorts to enjoy
a lucrative Thanksgiving.
Scott went off again.
Just @!$%#@! perfect,
with the Jeep in the shop
and the Subaru needing tires.
November snow!
Ca
n you imagine a worse omen?
Omens! Great!
I wasn’t about to try and dissuade
the Powers-That-Be.
I still needed answers, however.
I picked up the phone, went into
my room, and made a few calls.
The first was to Dad. Not sure why.
Got his answering machine:
Me and Linda Sue were feeling
blue, so we went to Mexico.
Leave your number.
I’m getting a hummer.
Linda Sue? Was she from Kentucky?
No doubt “Miss Louisville” paid for their trip.
But did the world have to know they had oral sex?
And who made Dad a (very bad) poet?
On a crazy whim, I called Adam next.
Guess who was whining in the background.
Kristina? [Momento, Lince. I’ll be right there.]
Well, yeah, we’re hangin’ out pretty steady.
In fact—you won’t believe this—
I’m going to be a daddy next summer.
Oh, yeah, I believed it all right.
Apparently, though Lince still lacked
feeling in one arm, other parts felt plenty.
So much for Giselle. So much for summer visits.
I muttered congratulations and hung up
without sharing my own “good news.”
I Thought About Calling Leigh
but figured she’d tell Mom, “for my own good.”
I called Robyn instead.
“So I’ve got this friend who just
found out she’s pregnant …”
Total bummer. How far gone are
y—I mean … is she?
“Six weeks. She’s too scared
to tell her parents….”
No doubt. What about the father?
Does he know?
“No. And she’s not going to
tell him. He’s a real a-hole.”
No help from the father, no help
from her parents? Only one answer.
“You mean abortion. What
about adoption?”
Let me tell you a little story about
what happened to a friend of mine….
Seems Robyn’s friend chose adoption,
then saw her baby and changed her mind.
“I don’t see what’s so
awful about that!”
Ask the adoptive parents. I’d tell you
to ask the baby, but you can’t.
Seems Robyn’s friend wasn’t really
ready to be a mommy.
“So … what? She gave the baby
up for adoption, after all?”
She went on a three-day bender. The
baby’s crying drove her nut buckets.
Seems, arm in arm with the monster,
Mommy shut the baby up.
For good.
Snow Began to
Snow Day
No plows, no buses,
no school, nothing to do but fret.
I picked up the newspaper.
There, headlining Local News:
MAJOR DRUG BUST
with a picture of Roberto
in a sporty pair of cuffs,
followed by a daunting exposé—
La Eme and the crank epidemic.
Plus, in Sierra Living
a complementary piece
outlining the horrors of meth:
How it eats big holes in the brain, destroys
the pleasure center. How it shows up
in X rays as big black dead spots spoiling gray matter.
How quitting is next to impossible
and even those users who suffer
through often never recover completely.
Footnote:
Possible
pregnancy
complications
crank
baby
birth
defects
health
and behavior
abnormalities.
Too Much
to think about.
Too much to bear.
And time was running short.
I knew
I couldn’t marry Chase.
I knew he would stand by me.
But he deserved his dreams.
I feared
closing that door.
I feared the uncertainty
of choosing parenthood.
I doubted
I could give my baby away.
I doubted more I could raise it
on my own—with or without defect.
I needed
a solid dose of courage.
I needed the strength only
the monster could give me.
I regretted
my weakness as I inhaled.
I regretted making the decision
to snuff out my baby’s life.
I Needed Two Things
The ride home was easy.
Robyn offered to drive,
as long as it didn’t interfere
with her cheerleading.
The $500, however, presented a challenge.
My bank account was low desert dry.
The Visa was maxed high.
Chase refused to help.
He was “floored” by my decision.
Another option came to mind, one
that owed me a lot more than money.
First Brendan denied paternity.
I reminded him about DNA.
Next he claimed poverty.
I threatened full disclosure.
To his hoity parents. To his toity girlfriend.
To his probation officer.
(A DUI, post—Air Races.)
Okay, he’d cough up the money.
Distasteful as it was to see
him again, it provided
a matchless opportunity.
You sure you’re pregnant?
You sure it’s mine?
You’re not b-s-ing me?
“I’m sure. It’s yours. No bull.
Hard to believe your balls were big
enough to accomplish it, huh?”
How Big
were
my
balls?
Big
enough
to
follow
through?
I
Didn’t Sleep
the night before,
just sat at the window staring at starlight,
gentle glitters upon a crust
of new snow,
wishing I could wish upon
a star and make it all just an evil dream,
one I could wake from,
but no such
luck.
Mesmerized
More Choices
I told you once before
that life is full of choices
Sometimes, good or bad,
hard or easy, we make the right choices.
When I told my mom,
she cried and cursed my choices.
Then she softened and
thanked me for honoring my child.
She and Scott argued,
talked and finally agreed to offer haven
as long as I finished school.
Chase likewise promised to care for
us, work two jobs if need
be. It gave me even more to love
him for, but I sent him off
to USC. As my baby grew, mother love
replaced romantic love,
almost diminished love
for the monster. I tried
to quit, but my need was so deep
I did slip once or twice.
One tiny snort was all it took
to satisfy desire so
deep it snatched my breath away.
But don’t worry.
I swear it was only a time or two.
You won’t tell,
will you?
I Won’t Bore You
Highs
10) Feeling my baby move
at 16 weeks exactly,
knowing it wasn’t gas,
but something—someone—
incredibly, remarkably, alive.
9) Calling Dad and getting
Linda Sue. Asking her
to define “hummer” before
imparting the fabulous news
that her boyfriend was
to become a grandpa.
8) My ultrasound—seeing a heart,
beating strong inside me.
Having my doctor
inform me that my baby
was all in one piece, then
suggest I shop “blue.”
7) My school counselor,
Mrs. Green, arranging
a home-study program
to let me graduate
right on schedule.
(Six days before I gave birth!)
6) Calling Grandma, expecting
a lecture and getting one—
about how every baby,
regardless of circumstances,
is an angel on a special mission.