My Forever (3 page)

“What is that?” Dad asks
from my doorway
.

“A CD from Zack,” I answer. I have this strange urge to tell my dad I’m pregnant just so I can say it’s not Zack’s doing, but I don’t. I’m going to put that off for as long as I can.

“I don’t like it.” H
e’s using his smooth voice. The one that’s supposed to show how kind he is.

“I thought you wanted to encourage us to make our own choices.” I know he’s not going to be happy with me now
,
but really, how bad can it get? I’ve already done the worst thing on his list. He just doesn’t know it yet.

“Well, that’s true
,
Dani.” Great.
He’s in full mediator
force now. “But when your decision affects the rest of the children in this household, things need to change.”

I reach out and hit the power button on my radio. My tiny shelf is packed with books and music, but I know where that button is. I’m asked to use it often.

“Goodnight, Danielle. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” I roll over to make eye contact so he knows I’m serious
,
but more than that, so he’ll go away. He wants to make a “connection” with his kids as often as possible. Usually, it’s with something like this.

3

I wake up late,
dig through my laundry basket of clean laundry
, and pull out a
P
acman
T
-shirt.
There’s jeans
in the bottom
,
and my socks don’t match exactly
,
but they both have blue stripes. I slide my hoodie on and dig in the pocket for my ponytail holder.
As
I head down the hallway
, I
pull up my hair
hoping I don’t miss
the bus for school. I hate walking all that way. Daniel looks as bleary-eyed as I must be. He rips open a package of pop tarts as the bus pulls up and hands me one.

When I get to school, I throw up in the toilet before first period. It smells like vomit and strawberry frosting. I’m never eating another pop tart again.

I sit on the cool tile floor and listen carefully for anyone else in the restroom. I don’t hear anything.
When
I slowly get up and g
o out to wash my hands and face,
I see the bathroom do
or close
. Great.

Right now I have a few options. I can run out and see who it is
,
but that seems a little ridiculous, because what do I do then? I can wait it out here in hopes that a lot of other girls come in
,
and I can leave w
ith them. Blend into the crowd…
This
option also feels ridiculous.

I dry my hands, and leave the bathroom. I don’t look up to see if anyone’s watching
because
I’d rather not know. I’m completely aware I’m in
denial right now, but it’s probably a better spot than
reality. Like I’m hov
ering around what actually is i
nstead of living it.
Except the pop-tart throw-up.

~
~
~

Every morning
all
week, at the same time, my body just needs to throw up. Seven fifteen, sharp. I stop eating breakfast. My list of acceptable breakfast foods is shrinking too fast.

On Friday I get a note in fifth period to go to the nurse’s office. I feel sick again.
I’m sure someone’s noticed me
losing my breakfast every morning
.
What on earth am I going to tell her? Does she have some sort of obligation to tell my parents? Either way, it’s bad. I’m too terrible a liar to attempt.

“Danielle
L
eClaire
.” The nurse smiles, a big, white, perfect smile
as I walk into her small office.

“That’s me.” I attempt to smile back only I’m not sure if comes out right or not.

“Have a seat.” She gestures to a chair on the opposite side of the desk from her
before tucking her short, brown hair behind an ear
.

“Thanks.” I sit. So far this is easy. Name, got it. Sit, I can do that too. I’m sure though, that the questions are going to get more difficult.

“So, you’re probably wondering why I brought you down here.” She leans back in her chair and
peers at me through her funky striped glasses
.

“A little.”
Not at all.

“Are you okay? I’ve gotten a few reports that you’ve thrown up in the mornings. I would assume that if you were that sick, you, or your parents, would have kept you home from school so I’m guessing it’s something else.”

“Have you called my parents?” I ask. I try hard to make my voice sound normal
,
but I’m sure I completely fail.

“Nope.” She looks evenly at me over her desk. “I didn’t even enter my request for you to come see me into the system.”

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Then I realize I probably should have masked it a little better. 

“So, what’s going on Danielle?” I can tell that she won’t push it too hard right now
,
but if I don’t answer, she’ll call me down again.

“It’s Dani.” I can barely hear my voice.

“Dani,” s
he says.

“I’m pregnant.” I chew on my lip and don’t meet her stare. So it’s crazy, bu
t it feels good to tell someone, and a
n adult, someone who can actually do something for me.

“So, this is a pretty big thing.” She nods at me slowly.

I nod back. What else do you do when someone makes the most obvious statement in the world?

“Have you told your parents yet?”

I shake my head
then panic. “Are you going to tell them?” I suddenly can’t breathe.

She looks conflicted enough that I almost bolt from her office. I’m not sure what that would accomplish in the end, but the thought crosses my mind.

“I’ll give you some time first
,
and pretend I don’t know.”

I try to take a deep breath in. “Thanks.” I’m sure it comes out in a mumble.

“Dani. You’re going to be fine.” Her smile is reassuring. But she doesn’t know I’ll be fine. She had to double-check my name. She doesn’t know my situation, my parents, nothing. All she knows about me is that I’m a senior, I’m pregnant and I’m in her office. “I’ll put in my computer that you stayed here for the afternoon with a headache, okay?”

I nod.

“I have some books and things you can look through. Stay in my office
. Y
ou have more privacy in here.”

That’s it? That’s all that’s happening to me?

“Thanks.” I let my eye
s wander around her cramped spa
ce, filled with nothing but books and bookshelves.

“I’m going to get some things done. If you need to leave, let me know before you do okay?” She stands up.

“Okay.”

She has a binder for pregnant teens that she hands to me.

I’m not in trouble. I heft the large binder
,
but
can’t
fathom what can possibly be in
here to help me. She walks out of her small office and clo
ses the door, leaving me alone.

Wow. Quiet. I take a deep breath in. I’m never alone. I’m still taken aback by how nice she acted toward me. I didn’t expect it. Aren’t they supposed to freak out on me for racking up statistics on teen pregnancy?

I know a few things already. One, my parents are going to absolutely freak out. They’ll freak out even more when I refuse to tell them who the father is. I won’t give up his secret. Well, he doesn’t even know he has a secret yet. I probably won’t tell him. What would be the point? I’d been the one to ask him, not the other way around. This is in no way his fault.

I know already I won’t have an abortion. I’ve spent too much time in church with my father for that. Shoot, I watched
Juno
. The baby has fingernails by now.

Having a baby a few months after graduating from high school is not a good way to start your adult life. I feel my heart lift a little. Maybe if I tell Lucas, he’ll come down and we’ll get mar
ried and buy a small house and…
Right.
My gut sinks.
That’ll never happen.

I already know what I’m going to do. I knew when I first saw the second line on the pregnancy test. This baby isn’t mine but it can be somebody’s.

I re-shuffle my weight and put my feet on a nearby chair. I’m remembering now that last year a friend of mine told me that he was adopted. I have to remember who that person is. I’m suddenly mad at my over
-
cluttered brain for not guarding that info more carefully
,
then
I laugh
because even if I do remember, how do you bring
that
topic up in casual conversation?

My
hand
rests
on my stomach. I expect to feel something, anything. Aside from throwing up, I don’t feel pregnant. Not that throwing up feels like a baby’s growing inside you. It just pretty much feels like you’re throwing up.

I sit in the nurse’s chair with my feet up for the last two periods of the day.  It’s the longest stretch of peace I remember having in months. It’s kind of sad really, that telling the school nurse I’m pregnant leads me to the best couple hours I’ve had in a while.
As I flip through the notebook
I realize that I’ll have to find a way to get some vitamins
,
and I take an application for Medicare. I hope my parents won’t have to sign anything. Planned Parenthood is probably a good place to start.