Sixteen (5 page)

Nikki shuddered. “Definitely not.” After a pause, she sighed and shrugged. "I guess it's the only way." Then her eyes widened. “But promise me Timmy and your dad will never know. You’re my best friend; your mom’s nice and cool. I draw the line at the rest of your family knowing.”

Christy gave an exaggerated nod. "Oh, trust me, not a problem. I'll go ask right now. I'll hurry, but try to act normal or something when your parents get home. I'll be right back." She ran down the stairs and out the door; Nikki watched her from the window until she was inside her house. Almost before Christy had shut her own door, Nikki's mother pulled into the driveway. Nikki sighed and grabbed a dusty book off her desk, opening to the middle of it.

"Nikki? I'm back!"

"Upstairs!" She tried to sound glum and annoyed, but she thought her concern showed through. Maybe her mom wouldn’t notice. It’s not like her mom noticed Nikki’s lack of energy or depressed mood the past several weeks.

"What are you doing?"

"Reading!"

There was silence for a minute. "I'm going to start dinner."

"Okay, whatever!" She put her book back on the floor and watched as Christy’s mom’s minivan drove away. Nikki supposed Christy's mom made her go to the store with her. Christy and her mother got along fairly well -- infinitely better than Nikki did with her own mom -- but Christy was usually independent of her family. With the exception of their once-a-month family night, she usually did her own thing, like Nikki. Of course, Christy’s parents gave her more freedom than Nikki’s did. Seven-year-old Timmy was too much of a handful for his parents to worry about a responsible teenager, too. Although lately Christy seemed to spend more and more time at home. Maybe it stemmed from the whole be-a-better-Christian thing? After all, Christians were supposed to focus on their families and get along well.

Nikki's dad arrived fifteen minutes later than usual, but he didn't bother Nikki. She could hear her parents making dinner together in the kitchen downstairs. As a kid, she would help them. Several of her favorite memories were of baking cookies or making a mess with the lettuce leaves while her dad sprinkled sugar on her mother's hair or her mom shooed him out so they “could actually get some food made before it's all eaten up.” But then they had fought over that stupid dress, and now it almost felt like she was a stranger to her own family.

The doorbell rang, and Nikki darted downstairs before her dad could get it.

"Hey, Christy, come on up." They ran upstairs, and Christy dumped the shopping bag’s contents on the bed.

"You know these things are expensive, right? I really hope you appreciate this." Christy’s laughing tone carried no ill will towards her best friend.

Nikki shrugged, smiling a little, but unable to laugh at the thought of what they were doing. "I told you I'd pay you back. I just can't risk it not being the real thing."

"I know, I know, take it in the bathroom and hurry up." Christy tore open the cardboard box and shoved a little plastic-wrapped piece at Nikki, tossing the box back on the bed.

Nikki grabbed the package and scurried into the bathroom. She locked the door and read the instructions on the test. She followed them carefully and held her breath while she waited for the results.

Christy spoke through the door, softly enough so her voice wouldn’t carry downstairs. “This seems awful, Nikki, and I know a lot is, but I was thinking in the car. What if… what if you really are pregnant? What if you’re actually going to have a baby? Teenage parenthood isn’t the best thing ever, but you’d still have a child, an adorable little kid that you created. A life inside of you, dependant on you. How awesome is that?”

Nikki chewed her bottom lip and didn’t respond to Christy’s monologue, too fixated on the little plastic stick in her hand. When two pink lines showed, she sighed. She put the test back in the plastic wrapping and slipped past Christy in the hall back into her room, hiding the used test at the bottom of her trash can.

"Positive?" Christy asked, eyebrows raised, a little too cheery.

Nikki nodded, her glum face in stark contrast to her friend’s.

They both stood silently for a moment before Christy spoke. "Well, how do you want to do this? I mean, I can't exactly invite myself over for dinner."

Nikki’s head jerked up. "Maybe you could."

"What do you mean?"

"You go ask your parents if you can sleepover. I'll beg mine -- tell them you're already invited. I'll make sure mine say yes. Then, I'll tell my parents about... about the baby, and you can help me make a plan for telling Matt." At his name, they both grimaced.

"Okay." Christy’s voice lost the cheer it held earlier. Nikki took a deep breath. This was no game. Motherhood stood in her imminent future.

A few minutes and several promises later, the girls sat next to each other at the dinner table across from Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Christy ate her chicken soup quickly and not too quietly, while Nikki stirred hers around long after it grew cold. After a horrible twenty minutes of Christy’s slurps breaking the silence, Nikki’s parents picked up the dishes and brought out a tray of brownies. Before her dad could cut the chocolate treats, Nikki spoke up.

"Um... Mom, Dad?" Her tone held more concern and less maturity than she’d hoped for.

Her father sat back down and both parents looked at her with worried expressions. "Yes?"

"Um... see... " Nikki glanced at Christy, who nodded encouragingly. She stared at the table and blurted out, "I'm pregnant." So much for tact. Or a plan.

Her mother cried out, but her father looked skeptical. "What's that?"

This time, she looked up, avoiding his eyes while fighting back the flood of guilt and shame washing over her. "I said... I'm pregnant."

Her father sat quietly. Her mother, however, was not so compassionate. She pressed her fists into the tablecloth and shot up from her chair. "I told you this would happen! It was that man, wasn't it? He raped you; I knew he would! I told you to stay away from him! Why, we should sue him. Take him to court! Make him pay!"

Nikki stared at her mother in shock, but Christy handled the situation well. "Mrs. Johnson, I think you should hear the whole story. Nikki wasn't finished." A momentary surge of gratitude for her best friend swept through Nikki, slightly calming her shame.

"Oh?" Mrs. Johnson sat down and paused long enough for Nikki to speak again.

"Mom, Matt didn't hurt me. I made a mistake -- actually, we both did. After the Fourth of July picnic, we went to his house together..."

Christy saw Nikki floundering and came to the rescue again. "But that's not important right now. What's important is that Nikki is going to have a baby in..." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if counting in her head. "...April, and she really needs your support."

Her mother seemed lost. Nikki could tell she wanted to rant against Matt, but Nikki had just shot down any suggestion of his being entirely to blame. They all avoided looking at each other for several uncomfortable minutes. Nikki examined the red and white checker pattern on the plastic tablecloth. The silence seemed almost noisy until the air conditioner jumped back on. Finally, Nikki's father spoke.

"You're sure?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the tablecloth.

He sighed. "You know it was wrong, what you did."

She nodded again.

"You also know that your mother and I really do love you, and we want the best for you. We always have."

Her mother hastily joined the awkward, somewhat one-sided conversation. "Naturally. Now, Nikki, I know we've had our differences, but I'm sure-"

"Nancy, I'd like to finish." His tone did not lack love, but his words were firm.

Mrs. Johnson looked slightly hurt, but she stopped talking.

"Nicole, you and your mother and I haven't been on the best of terms lately. I feel this might have played a large part in your behavior lately -- your behavior for the past few years, actually. Am I right?"

The air conditioner continued to rattle; the clock in the kitchen chimed once to signify the half-hour. Nikki finally nodded.

Her dad leaned forward and took her hand. For the first time that night, they locked eyes. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry." On the surface, he could mean about Matt or the pregnancy or her parents' not understanding or -- Nikki knew he meant all of that, and so much more. In those few seconds their eyes never moved, and the past several years of anger and bitterness and insecurity crumbled with the walls around her heart. How was it possible to miss someone so much who had always lived a hallway away? Images of park swings and baking cookies and raking leaves and a red party dress filled her eyes and spilled out as hot, salty raindrops.

I twirl around
in front of the dressing room mirror. "Look at it, Mom!" I gaze in the mirror's reflection before grinning down at the green silky skirt draped over my hips. "It's so soft and... and twirly!" I laugh and spin around again.

Mom catches my shoulder and gently pushes me down onto the tiny bench in the fitting room. "Slow down, Nicole! You'll make yourself sick, spinning like that."

I shake my head to clear the dizziness and smile at my mom, in her red and green Christmas sweatshirt and new blond perm that matches my natural curls - her idea. "We have to get this one, Mom. Please, please, please?"

She frowns. This skirt is perfect for the party! Why is she frowning? "Hm. We'll see. Here, I want you to try this dress on." In her hand, she carries a red velvet dress with puffy sleeves and a Christmas tree pattern on the skirt.

I groan. "Not another one! I told you, everybody's wearing green skirts, Mom. I won't look right in a red dress."

She shakes her head and drops the dress in my lap. "Nicole, three of your friends hardly constitutes everyone at the party. Red is just as festive as green. Besides, it will look lovely with your golden curls." She smiles down at me and runs her fingers softly over a strand of my hair.

I jerk my head away and sigh noisily. "Okay."

I shimmy out of the perfect skirt and tug the dress on over my head. The fabric is thicker and heavier than the skirt, and the top itches.

Mom is beaming at me when I glance over at her. I stick my lower lip out. "I don't like it."

"Oh, Nicole, but look at yourself! It's darling!" With her hands on my shoulders, she turns me toward the mirror. I stare at the glaringly bright red cloth while she drapes my hair around my sleeves. "See, this it the perfect dress! You'll be the most stunning girl at the party. I told you it would match your hair."

I step away from her and my hip collides with the sharp corner of the wooden bench. I gasp in pain and press one hand on my side. "Stop it, Mom! I don't like the dress. I don't want to wear red, I don't want a dress, and I want to pick my own clothes! I don't want to match you. I don't like our hair! And why can’t you call me Nikki, like I said? I just wish you'd leave me alone."

I'm louder than I intended. Mom raises her eyebrows and the glow on her face vanishes. Her eyes stare at me, and I feel unnerved. She just doesn't understand. Why won't she stop looking at me like that? I can't tell if she'd angry or not. Maybe the Nikki-thing was too much. I know she’s set on my using her grandmother’s proper name, but it’s so stuffy.

"Okay." Her voice is quiet and lacks any sign of emotion.

I try to tone down my voice a little. It's not Mom's fault that she’s so old-fashioned... or that I hurt my hip, which is still throbbing. "It's just that-"

"No, I understand." Her lips set in a tight line, and her jaw stiffens. I think she's clenching her teeth. "We'll buy the skirt. Get dressed,
Nikki
." Without another word, she picks up her purse and slips out the dressing room door.

I cross my arms and huff my breath. Fine, she can be that way. It’s not like I was trying to make her mad. Mom never listens to me!

Hot tears streamed
down Nikki’s cheeks. Without realizing how, she sat on the floor, wrapped in her father’s arm. Her mother knelt beside them, stroking Nikki’s hair and whispering comforting words into her ear. She grasped the muted blue business shirt her father wore, already crumpled and tear-stained beyond hope. All concept of time was lost, but eventually she quieted and simply lay there, breathing shakily and enjoying the feel of her parents around her. Several minutes passed before Nikki noticed the empty chair at the dining room table where Christy had been sitting. She smiled, grateful for the alone time with her family. How long it had been since she’d truly enjoyed such a thing.

After a few more minutes, Nikki’s mom wordlessly pulled herself up on the dining chair, then helped her daughter up. Nikki’s father followed suit, and a slight moment of awkwardness ensued -- but only the slightest moment.

"Oh, darling. You know we love you." Nikki's mother held her arms out, and they shared their first real hug in far too long.

Nikki pulled her chin up just enough so they could hear her remark, "Me too. Oh, and Mom?" They pushed apart far enough to see each others' faces.

"Yes?"

"I got saved today."