Me: “I’m going to Vegas tomorrow.”
Ty: Too bad. Should be killer.
Kristy: But Dylan could come, right?
Seething
That’s what I am, and it shows.
“Dylan can do whatever he wants.”
Hissed with enough venom
for Ty to tell Kristy, We should go.
Her smile says way too much.
Hope we see you tomorrow.
Dylan is a sharp-toothed rat,
in a trap. Yeah, well, we’ll see.
Ty and Kristy take off and I stand.
“Will you please take me home?”
Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mention
it because I didn’t plan to go.
Whatever. “Don’t lie to me, Dylan.
God, that’s one thing I can’t take.”
Suddenly, he’s angry. The universe
does not revolve around you, you know.
“I know. Obviously, it revolves
around you. Can we go now?”
We Don’t Speak
Most of the way home. It’s a very
long half hour, simmering silently.
As we turn up the road to my house,
Dylan is the first one to speak.
I won’t go tomorrow, okay?
I should have told you, but I knew
you’d get mad that Kristy invited
me. I swear, I don’t know what’s
up with that girl. It’s like she knows . . .
“You didn’t tell her! You didn’t
tell anyone, right?” What would I
do if people found out? Or will they?
I haven’t told anyone. He pauses,
thinking. Does this mean you’ve
decided to have the abortion?
“Dr. Ortega made an appointment with
the clinic for next Friday after school.
But that doesn’t mean I will keep it.”
I think you should, but you know
how I feel. I’ll take you, if you want.
God, Mik, I just want everything back
like it was. I love you so much. . . .
He makes the sharp turn into our
driveway. I hate it when we fight.
“Me, too.” I’m sick of all the arguing
going on around here. No need to
mention my parents, though. “And
I love you, too. And I’ll call you
from Vegas, okay?” He parks, comes
around to open my door, and when
I get out, he kisses me so sweetly
I can barely remember why I was so
angry. Oh yeah, Kristy. “I really don’t
want you to go to the party. Okay?”
He promises he won’t, but something
in his voice makes me worry that he will.
I Try Not to Stress
About that as I let myself into
our totally dark house. No one
home? Surely Dad can’t still be
working? I turn on lots of lights,
leave them burning as I get ready
for bed, thinking about nasally
bitches and sharp-toothed rats.
Ack! Maybe he’s right. Terminating
would make everything go back
like it was. Dylan and I would
be the perfect couple again.
We would graduate high school,
head off to college together and
without major complications.
Perfect. Except. Except there
is something growing inside me.
And while I’d love to believe it’s
a blob of cells, not a life or a soul,
that is bullshit. Dylan can choose
whomever. I choose to let my baby
live.
As I Lie in Bed
Waiting for sleep to come
I know I have made the right
decision. It’s only the first
of many more to come.
How—and when—do I out
myself, confess to Dad,
my grandparents,
my friends?
Do I stay in school?
If I do, for how long?
Should I move to a charter
or some other special
program?
Will I keep my baby?
How can I support it?
Would Mom and Dad help?
Would Dylan? I don’t
think he would.
But is adoption the answer?
After carrying it
for nine months, feeling
it grow inside me,
becoming more and more
a part of me,
could I give my baby away?
Dylan
More and More
I realize that keeping
a relationship alive isn’t an
easy thing. It takes more than
love,
more than great sex.
It takes seeing eye to eye
on pretty much everything.
Not difficult, when it
is
a laundry list of small
things you need to agree
on—what movie to see
or radio station to listen to.
But something as major as
a
pregnancy, unplanned and
unwanted? A lack of consensus
there, and your rock-solid
devotion becomes
fragile
as delicate crystal, and as sharp
when it shatters. It will slice
you to the bone. And you
barely feel a
thing.
Shane
Delicate
Shelby has always been that.
Frail.
Fragile.
Easily broken.
But now she is something else.
Sheer.
Gossamer.
Ethereal.
She’s like some mythical creature.
Elf.
Fairy.
Sprite.
Trying to outfly the coming storm.
Downpour.
Tornado.
Hurricane.
But it’s catching up to her fast.
There’s Nothing I Can Do
Except watch her lose ground.
Nothing anyone can do, but
ease her passing. I try to help.
I empty the trash can in her room.
Don’t want her to have to smell
diapers. Don’t want Mom to smell
them either. She won’t leave
Shelby’s bedside. Dad hovers
there, too, singing lullabies and
old Beatles songs. Gram spends
all her time in the kitchen cooking
chili and soup and other stuff
no one has an appetite for. I eat
it, if only to make her happy.
But I also escape the house often.
Alex comes and gets me, says I
shouldn’t drive in my condition.
Like hollow and drunk are synonymous.
He’ll Be Here Soon
I sit on my bed, petting Gaga,
who has claimed my pillow
for herself like a regular queen.
I guess I don’t mind sharing it.
“I’m glad I don’t have to hide
you anymore.” Gram discovered
her while I was at school. Mom
insisted I go the last couple of days.
What good will it do for you to
stay here and stress? she asked.
So I went to school and stressed
instead. And yesterday Gram
heard Gaga mewing. Asking
for attention. She’s kind of an
attention hog. When I got home,
I found Gram in my room,
scooping the litter box while
; Gaga purred on my pillow.
I think it’s time someone here had
a pet, Gram said. Good for the soul.
I Don’t Know About That
But I do know it’s nice having
something to comfort me at night.
Something alive to chase away
all thoughts of death that haunt me
while I try to sleep. I was eleven
when Grandma died—plowed down
while crossing the street. I don’t think
there was a whole lot left of her, because
they kept the casket closed. I remember
sitting at the funeral, wondering what
that coffin concealed. Had nightmares
about it popping open to let me see inside.
I’m sure Gaga’s snuggles are about her
need for affection, but when I lie in bed,
praying I don’t have death nightmares,
it sure seems like she tries to make me feel
better. Maybe that’s what Gram meant
about her being good for my soul.
Someone’s at the Front Door
The sound of the bell reverberates
in the hallway, followed by the slight
clip-clip of Gram’s footsteps. Alex?
But when I go to see, it isn’t him.
It’s Mom’s friend, Drew. Gram
steps back from the door and from
here I can see Drew’s genuine smile.
Leah. You look amazing. He gives
her a giant hug. So sorry we have to
meet again under these circumstances.
Gram pulls away, assesses Drew,
scalp to toenails. How many years
has it been? Thirty? Now she looks
at the stuffed Barney he’s carrying.
That was so thoughtful of you.
The doorbell rings again. Gram
lets Alex in before showing Drew
the way to Shelby’s room. He waves
at me as he starts up the hallway.
I’d like to know him better. He’s cool.
Alex Trails Them
Until they disappear behind
Shelby’s door. I can hear a flurry
of greetings. What’s unusual
is how cordial Dad sounds.
He can’t stand having Drew
around. Alex reaches my side,
gives me a quick kiss. Who
was that with your grandma?
I take his hand, pull him into
my room before I answer.
“Drew is Mom’s best friend,
and he used to be her boyfriend.”
Really? Before or after your dad?
He smiles at his own lame joke,
jumps onto my bed next to Gaga.
“He was her first boyfriend.
In Oregon, when she was a kid.
They all lived on a commune
together. Gram. Gramps. Mom.
Aunt Andrea. And assorted others,
including Drew and his parents.”
Sounds, um, interesting, to say
the very least. And did they all
move to Reno together, too?
“Right. No, the story goes Gram
told Gramps she was finished
with the open marriage thing and
he had the choice to come with
her or stay behind. He chose
his family and northern Nevada.
Drew moved to Tahoe a few years
ago, after he got divorced. Mom won’t
say so, but I think he wanted to be close
just in case something happened
between Dad and her.” I don’t mention
that something almost did. Still might.
Alex Thinks It’s Romantic
I guess it is, and not so very long
ago, I might have encouraged Mom
to send Dad packing. Now I think
they need each other in a profound
way. Of course, that could change
after . . . Weird, but I haven’t really
allowed myself to think much about
after. I hear Mom in the hall, talking
to Gram. In the hall! I poke my head
around my door. “What’s going on?”
Neither looks panicky, so it can’t be
anything major. Mom looks at me
with dark-circled eyes. Drew chased
us out. He said I stink. . . . She sniffs
her armpits, runs a hand through
her limp hair. Okay, he’s right.
Gram jumps in. Actually, he said
he was hoping to watch a Barney
rerun and for your mom to take
a nice, hot bath. He’s a dear, isn’t he?
Considering
Mom has barely left Shelby’s room
to even take a piss, Drew is a dear.
“You deserve a hot bath, Mom.”
But she shakes her head. I agreed
to a quick shower. At least I’ll smell
better. And I’ll grab a bite to eat.
I made a nice shepherd’s pie, says
Gram. Tell Alex there’s plenty, and
it’s ready. The ladies part ways, Mom
to the shower and Gram to the kitchen,
which is starting to leak some amazing
scent. “Yo! Alex! You hungry?”
I have no idea what shepherd’s pie is,
but my stomach’s growling. I haven’t
eaten a whole lot the past couple of days.
Food is probably a good idea, and maybe,
for just a half hour or so, sharing the dinner
table can make us feel something like normal.
Alex
Sharing the Table
Breaking bread in the literal
sense, passing butter and salt,
midst meaningless conversation,
we are immersed in
living.
But as hard as everyone
tries to appreciate Drew’s gift
of time, the small talk shrinks
all the way to minuscule
and
Nice while it lasted—
a half-hour vacation from
the crushing wait for
death.
It’s hard being here, where
I’m reminded of fate’s
cruel nature and my fears
are
intensified. But Shane needs
me, so I come and stay or
take him away for a while.
Love and sacrifice are
inextricable.
Harley
Love Is Weird
Last weekend I still thought
I was in love with Chad.
But then he went and made
it clear he considers me
his little sister and kissing
me would be sort of like
incest. He’s full of it, but
whatever. Anyway, I was still
all crazy for him right up
until last night. Now the only
guy I can think about is Lucas.
He’s totally amazing. And we
already kissed! I was so scared
I’d mess it up, I almost pulled
away when he tried. Instead,
I went ahead, and it was perfect.
The Perfect Kiss
Is
not too rough
not too sweet
not too slobbery
not chapped.
It’s
a gentle joining
an even building
a total melting
together. Hot.
It’s
a tilt of the head,
a slick slide of lips
a sublime exploration
tongue touching tongue.
And now
I know the perfect
kiss isn’t between
Chad and me. It’s
between me and Lucas.
And, for Once
Bri and I are on the same page.
She and Kurt made out too.
I spent last night at her house
and we talked instead of sleeping.
“Lucas’s really cute, don’t you think?”
Yeah, but not as cute as Kurt.
“Did Kurt kiss better than Chad did?”
Lots! But she didn’t give details.
“I wish Lucas went to Carson.”
Yeah, but at least he’s got a car.
“I know, right? That’s so awesome.”
Will your mom let you ride with him?
“Probably not. But Dad might.”
Dad Is Pretty Distracted
He and Cassie got engaged.
They’re shopping for a ring today.
I guess I’m happy for them.
Actually, I’m pretty happy all
the way around today. Saturday,
and Mom just picked me up to take
me back to the rib cook-off. Sorry
I couldn’t get there last night.
We’ll make up for it today, though.
“No problem. We had fun, even
without you.” More fun than she wants
to know about. But I can’t not tell her
about Lucas. What if he calls? What
if we happen to see him today? “So,
uh . . . guess what?” She seems to be
about a million miles away
because it takes several seconds
before she finally says, What?
I Almost Chicken Out
But she’s my mom. She should know.
In fact, she should be happy for me.
“I, uh . . . I’m kind of going out
with someone.” Again, the slight
delay before the news sinks in.
Going out? What does that mean?
“You know. Seeing each other.”
A slight exaggeration, but still.
Seeing each other? Since when?
And who are you talking about? Chad?
“No, not Chad. His name is Lucas,
and we just got together.” I don’t
say where, or how, and I don’t tell
her he has a car. “He’s really nice,
Mom. You’ll like him. Can you
believe I’ve got a boyfriend?”
No. I mean, yes. I mean, of course
I can believe it. I just hope you’ll be . . .