Life Interrupted (7 page)

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Authors: Kristen Kehoe

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Women's Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Fiction, #Teen & Young Adult

BOOK: Life Interrupted
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Back to my point.  T
he day I came home to tell my mom that I was pregnant was the same day that I had decided to keep the baby.  Her response? After a few silent moments where she digested my words and stared at me, she nodded and reached out to wrap an arm around my shoulders.  “Well, looks like I should buy some ice cream and cancel my Weight Watchers membership.”

When I looked at her through traumatized eyes, she smiled.  “What? I’m not paying to have someone tell me I’m gaining weight and you’re going to need someone to hang out with when you get fat.”

“You’re not mad? Or even disappointed in me? I’m sixteen and pregnant, and thanks to MTV, that carries an even heavier connotation these days.”


Flow, will being mad at you change anything? Will telling you how scared I am for you make this any easier?” I shook my head.  “Then I’m not going to say those things.  I’m going to save myself fifty bucks a month and enjoy some Fudge Mint Swirl.  And then we’re going to get your sister drunk so you can tell her and we can pray she doesn’t fly off the handle.”

I laughed and let her hug me, let the tears that were hell bent on
building up fall over.  And because she hadn’t judged me, hadn’t told me I was stupid, I asked her what she didn’t ask me.

“Don’t you want to know who?”

“Tripp?”

If a heart could break a second time, I think mine had at that moment.  Hearing his name, hearing that she thought it was his baby had only reminded me that this was one more step away from him, one more reason we may never be together again.  I shook my head. 

“Marcus Kash.  I barely know him.  He’s not a good person.”

She nodded and squeezed me tighter, a
nd then she made me laugh.  “Well, I slept with your father for over a decade so who am I to judge? If anything, you and Stacy are proof that not both sets of genes are represented in a child.”

             
She made me laugh through my entire pregnancy, and when you’re sixteen, there’s not a lot that’s funny about gaining weight and watching your friends go to prom while you worry about whether you should breast feed or use formula.  It wasn’t that she wasn’t scared for me, it was that she instinctively knew that I’d already beat myself up as much as anyone could over my mistake and now it was time to move on, to move forward and embrace the life that was going to be there.  So, when she comes out from putting Gracie down and pours herself a cup of tea, I stand at the counter and tell her about seeing Gabriella and her reaction to seeing Gracie.

             
“I don’t know why it bothered me so much, the way she looked at Gracie.  I mean, she’s sixteen, it’s not like she’s going to kidnap her.”

             
“It’s your reaction to the perceived threat.  You’re her mother-Gabriella is Marcus’s sister and Marcus not only rejected you, he tried to discredit you and threaten you.  He’s a threat, therefore, anyone associated with him can be seen as a threat.  It’s natural.”

             
I nod, understanding.  “I guess we’ll see.”

             
“In the meantime, your father is coming down for lunch on Sunday.”

“I won’t be here.  We’re in S
outhern California at the SoCal qualifier.  I get back around ten.  Stacy and Nick are taking Gracie on Saturday night. Are you okay with her Friday?”

She nods.  “Well, you’ll miss his big announcement then, so I guess I should tell you.
  He’s bringing his fiancée.”

             
My eyes pop wide and I stare at my mother.  She appears amused by this information, as she is by all other things pertaining to my father.  Bitter is not really her style.  Sarcastic is.  “His fiancée?”

             
“Yep, so be prepared.  Your sister is going to have a hard time.”

             
This stumps me.  “Why will Stacy care?”

             
“Because his fiancée is three years younger than she is.  And pregnant.”

             
Did I say my family wasn’t broken? What about twisted?

Eight

              Dean: So, I’m thinking we should try another date.  Minus Douglass and Katie.

             
Me: Try? Was there something wrong with the first one?

             
Dean: Nope, that’s why I’m suggesting another without the lovebirds.

             
Me: ah, so you use your cousin to scare girls off? I bet that’s got a high success rate.

             
Me: wow, I’m mean.

             
Dean: admission is the first step, yadda yadda

             
Dean: so, about that date.

             
Me: I’m in SoCal at a tourney all this weekend.  Practice every night.

             
Dean: What about lunch one day? Got a free period?

~

              Dean gets sandwiches on Thursday and swoops me up on my lunch hour before driving to a nearby park.  Because it’s raining we sit inside his car and eat, taking turns telling our stories, explaining about our families, our backgrounds, all of those things you do when you’re getting to know someone.

             
“So, you’re a big volleyball player, huh?”

             
Right away he recognizes his adjective and its suggestion and sputters out an apology.  “Jesus, I didn’t mean it that way.”

             
I smile through my laughter.  “It’s like we’re hell bent on insulting one another.  And don’t worry, I know what you meant.”

             
“Thank god.  I suddenly understand how Doug feels every day of his life.”

             
This brings another fit of laughter and it makes me comfortable.  There isn’t a sizzle with Dean, nothing that reaches out and grabs me by the throat and makes me weak just looking at him, but there’s a level of familiarity that makes me feel like I’ve known him for years instead of less than a week. 

             
“Back to my statement.  You’re into volleyball?”

             
I shrug and wrap up the uneaten portion of my sandwich, uncapping my water and sipping from it as I angle myself toward him.  “Yeah, I mean, I’m not a great student and I have no artistic or musical talent.  And I am big,” I say and watch heat spread down his neck.

             
“For the record, long legs don’t go into the negative column.  Just the opposite, actually.”

             
I raise my brow.  “You have columns? I feel like I should be offended.”

             
“Nah, I don’t really have columns, but if I did, your legs would definitely be on the reasons-to-go-out-with-Rae-again side.”

He smiles and crumples up the paper from his sandwich—a sandwich he finished. 
If
I had columns, that would definitely be something I put on the positive side.  Not that he needs to know that.

“Anything else besides these stems of
mine?” I ask and he grins.

“Y
ou ate dinner the other night.  That goes into the positive because there’s really nothing more annoying than buying a girl dinner when she doesn’t eat any of it.  Long legs, total positive.”

“You already said that,” I remind him and he laughs. 

“Can’t be said enough.  The eyes—not green, not gray, just a blend of the two that glow out of your skin.  Kind of startling.”

             
The compliments are as foreign as they are appreciated, but I just smile and play it cool.  “I appear to be quite the catch.  Any negatives?”

             
His smile is wry.  “The high school thing isn’t really awesome, but you’re eighteen, so that’s something.  More than my idiot cousin can say.”

             
I laugh and his hand reaches out and takes mine, our fingers sliding together as he looks over at me.  “Seriously though, Rae, you’re cool.  I haven’t ever met anyone like you.”

“You barely know me,” I say
, thinking of Gracie. 

“But what I do know makes me want to know more.”

“Wow, you’re good at this.”

His smile is boy-next-door adorable. 
“But am I making progress?”

“I think so
,” I say and he grins wider.  From somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain pops out the thought that my relationship with Tripp isn’t like this, it’s not new and easy, it’s not comfortable.  It’s old and full of baggage and history and everything I feel for him is complicated.  And then I wonder if we would have ever been like this together if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, if he hadn’t met Lauren.

             
When Dean leans forward, I hesitate for just the slightest second, which pisses me off and for which I blame one hundred percent on Tripp for no reason other than I can’t stop thinking about him.  Calling myself an idiot, I close the distance on my side until our lips meet in a simple kiss.  I’m aware of the texture of his lips—firm, a little dry but not awkwardly so.  He’s very patient as he cups my face and changes the angle of his head, taking our lip-lock a little deeper.  When he pulls away, he presses two small kisses to my lips, his hands staying where they are as he looks at me.  There are no fireworks, no sparks, and if a part of me is disappointed, I don’t acknowledge it.  The kiss was soft and sweet, like a first kiss should be.

             
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I say as he pulls back a little. 

             
“For some reason that sounds like high praise coming from you.”

             
“Well, in fairness, your competition was an imagined Doug look-a-like, so when you showed up at dinner instead of him the other night your value skyrocketed.”

             
This earns me a smile and another light kiss on the lips.  No, no fireworks, but there is a significant amount of tingling and that can definitely be worked with.

             
“Doug’s not so bad,” he says as we drive back to school.  “I mean, he’s always been a little bit of a trend follower, like this motorcycle riding, faux bad boy phase he’s going through.  Most bad boys don’t have a 3.9 cumulative in mechanical engineering, so to those of us who really know him, the image is a little lost on the actual person.”

I’m
a little lost as he mentions the word
major
in conjunction with Dougie Fresh.  “Doug goes to school?”

Dean smiles and looks at me out of the corner of his eye.  “Yeah, what did you think he did?”

I shake my head as this new information processes.  “Nothing, I guess.  That’s Katie’s usual M.O. when picking a boyfriend.  Pick the one with the least amount of work ethic and future potential.  It’s like she’s been dating the ghost of her father for the past five years.  Not that she and Doug are dating anymore.”

Dean laughs.  “Yeah, he was pretty pissed when he found out she lied.  He actually got home right after I did
the other night, already on the phone with Katie, telling her they could only be friends and only go out in a group until she was eighteen.”  Then he looks at me. “Pretty weak of her to lie to him like that.”

My protective streak goes full throttle at his words and though I agree, I can’t help but explain for her.  “Katie’s life isn’t what you would call stable.  I can’t tell you everything, but I can tell you that her role models are more
like a what-not-to-do kind of thing, so don’t hold this against her, okay? She just wants someone, even if it means ignoring good sense to have them.”

“Her parents not nice?”

“We’ll say they’re not around and leave it at that.  Everything Katie’s learned about relationships has come from her mother’s various boyfriends or MTV.”

“Jesus
, that’s awful.  I mean, Doug’s had his fair share of douchey moments, like his senior year when he decided that wangster was the new look.”  Praise Jesus, I need a photo of that.  “But overall, he’s a good guy.  He’s a year older than me and when I decided to come here instead of staying home and going to Eastern, I didn’t know how I was going to pay for everything.  Doug took care of it—got a two bedroom apartment and was ready for me.”

“Were you guys close growing up?”

“Yes and no.  We’re family, but we didn’t exactly hang with the same crowd, and it wasn’t just because we’re a year apart.  I played sports, Doug didn’t.”  No need to state the obvious.  “I went out with girls, Doug didn’t.”  Again, obvious
.
  “He was more into cars than anything, and though he can’t drive or ride worth shit, he’s damn good at building an engine or piecing something back together.”

I feel like I’m on information overload and I can’t possibly relate the person Dean’s telling me about with the person I’ve assumed Doug to be.  “You know what they say about assumptions,” Dean says when I tell him this.  “Like, how Doug
assumed
you were out to ruin his relationship with Katie.”

“I sort of did
,” I say and he laughs.  “But seriously, even before I thought about their ages, I wasn’t out to ruin them, just him when the time came, and trust me, with Katie’s boyfriends, the time always comes.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How many times has someone had to step in and kick some guy’s ass for you?”

My thoughts immediately shift to Marcus the day that Tripp found out he’d cornered me.  I still maintain that had I not been seven months pregnant, I would have done something besides stand there while he intimidated me.  And I definitely would have been there when Tripp
talked
to Marcus the next day instead of letting him shield me.

“Must be some story,” Dean says and I realize I
’m staring off.   “Maybe you’ll tell me about it sometime.”

I nod, though I don’t really know how you tell someone about a baby daddy who threatened your life.

When he pulls into the parking lot, I turn and smile.  “Plans this weekend?”

“Well, now that I know I won’t be giving you my time, I have a bio project due on Monday.  Something about genetics a
nd dominate genes.  I don’t know, this class is a lot harder than I thought and it’s making me rethink my science major.”

“Isn’t that funny
?  My mom’s the head of the biology department at the university.  I can put a good word in for you if you want.”

His eyes widen. 
“Doctor Conti?”

“Do you know her?” I ask, though it’s obvious from his face that he does.

              “You’re Dr. C’s daughter?” I nod.  “Youngest daughter?” he asks and I nod, but it’s small because I know what’s coming next.  My mother is full of stories, full of anecdotes, and if this kid is taking her intro to bio courses, there is surely one thing he’s heard from her.  He swallows, his face a little pale.  “So you’re the one who has a daughter of her own?”

             
I clear my throat.  “Guilty.”  And then I look up at him and try a smile.  “So, is this going into the negative column?”

~

When you find yourself sixteen and pregnant, there aren’t really any certainties in your life.  All of a sudden, everything you knew your future held (and let’s face it, at sixteen, you
know
you’re going to be rich and famous the minute your teachers and parents stop holding you back) is no longer true, and you’re sitting there wondering what the hell you’ve done to yourself. 

After I told my mom and Stacy and Coach what was happening and what my decision was, all I could feel was relief.  No one had barred me from their life (save Marcus and we all
know that was a gift), no one had made me feel like I was a horrible person, though I think Coach might have cried a few times when I passed him in the hallway.

Bottom line
: when it was all said and done, I still had everyone important to me, even Tripp, who had been there the most because he knew when everyone else didn’t, so everything was good.  But then it wasn’t, and I couldn’t figure out why.  At first, I just attributed it to the fact that I was young, and being in high school made me view impending motherhood with a different set of glasses than other women.  Which was true, but not the whole truth.  The whole truth was that I was resigned about my decision to have the baby and as much as people say they understand what you’re going through, the fact is that they don’t. 

My mother was the closest
to understanding in terms of the unexpected pregnancy, but when she found out about Stacy she was in her thirties and decided to marry her baby daddy, whereas I was sixteen and hoping to never see the guy who impregnated me again(unless it was hooked up to the electric chair or another torturous device). 

Something about making the decision to have Gracie was so final, so absolute that when the relief wore off, it was replaced with a myriad of emotions, none of which were familiar.  Since
nothing
I was feeling or doing was familiar, I started sinking, and I started sinking hard.  After I quit volleyball, I also stopped going to anything that related to it.  I didn’t watch the team play, didn’t read the sport’s page when they made it to the state finals, didn’t even call Katie to mourn with her when they lost.  As everything in my life got bigger, me included, everything around me just got smaller, less significant.  And as much as I would say it was because I was focused on having the baby, the truth was that I was mad.  Angry.  Regretting my decision.

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