Swallowing, I take my hand off my belly and fist my fingers at my sides.
I run through all the arguments and points that I’d listed in my notebook. All the reading I’ve done and all the information I’ve collected.
Deep breaths, Callie.
I can do this.
I can absolutely do this. I can make my case.
“I don’t want you to take care of it, Con. I-I’m not getting an abortion,” I tell him.
“Are you fucking joking?” Con thunders.
I flinch at his tone.
I want to hide at his tone. I want to just agree with him but I can’t. I have to fight.
I have to.
I have to think of… her.
“I’m not terminating my baby, Con,” I say, trying to hold on to my courage.
“Your baby.”
“Yes.” I raise my chin. “My baby.”
When I was making all the decisions, I also decided that it’s going to be a girl.
As I said, I don’t remember anything about my mom except what my brothers have told me and it has always made me sad.
Not having a mom. Not having a friend in my mom.
So I’m going to have a friend in my baby girl.
Of course I know that you can’t decide these things, but still. I’m going to have a baby girl and I’m going to take care of her. I’m going to love her and be there for her like I imagine my own mother being there for me before she died. And as soon as I decided that, there was no thought of terminating her.
There was no thought of killing my baby.
I’ve already lost my mother, I’m not going to lose my baby too.
“Your baby that you’re having at eighteen fucking years old,” he snaps in a raised voice.
This time I’m better able to handle it though.
I hardly flinch when I say, very calmly, “I’m Mom’s age when she had you.”
His response is to clench his jaw, grind his teeth as he stares at me angrily. But again I don’t let it deter me.
I have to make my case.
“I know you think it’s a mistake. I know that. I know you think that I can’t do it. But I can. I know I’m young and it will be hard. I’m not saying it won’t be. But if Mom could do it, I can do it too. In fact, I have a plan. I made a plan, Con.”
I look around and find my green backpack sitting on the floor by the coffee table. “I have it in my bag. I have a list of all the things that I need to do before she gets here. First, I’ll quit school. I know that’s not ideal. I know that. But I need a job and I need to save up money right now. But I’m not giving up on my education. I’m not. I’ve decided to get my GED while I wait for her to be here, and once she gets a little bigger, I’ll enroll in online classes or night classes. There are so many options these days, Con. It’s not like before. I looked at so many brochures online and you can take out student loans. There are options for young mothers, see?
“And I know that…” This is slightly harder but I have to do it and so I forge on. “I know I have to quit ballet. I have to quit the dream of being a ballerina. But it’s okay. I’ll get a new dream. I’ll get a new goal. I can do it. For myself and for her and —”
“Who’s her?” he asks.
His voice has calmed down and I can’t help but think that maybe I’m making headway. Maybe he gets it now. I’m not all prepared but at least I have a starting point, right?
I touch my belly again and smile hesitantly. “Her. I think it’s a girl.”
He stares at my midsection for a beat, expressionless. Then, “What job?”
“What?”
“What kind of a job are you going to get?”
“I was thinking my summer job. At Buttery Blossoms,” I say. “I guess it won’t be enough though. So I’ll try to get a second job. Maybe nights or something. Or on the weekends.”
“And where will you live? While you’re out of school, working two jobs.”
I swallow.
For this, I need him. I really need him and strangely, I’m so afraid to raise this point.
I shouldn’t be though.
He’s my brother. Of course he’ll see the wisdom in it. But God, after the past couple of years that we’ve had and the way he’s reacting right now, I don’t know.
I don’t know what he’s going to say but I answer him nonetheless. “I was thinking here. With you. Until I save up enough to move into my own apartment.”
“Here.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re not living here,” he says again, declares almost. “And neither am I going to sit back and watch you destroy your life like this. That’s why you’re going to get an abortion. I’ll take you to a clinic and you’ll get it done and then we’ll never speak of this again.”
“I’m not getting an abortion, Con. I’m not,” I repeat, this time in a louder voice, something I didn’t think I was capable of tonight. “Mom didn’t —”
“Mom is fucking dead,” Con snaps, his anger so thick and palpable, his blue eyes are shooting fire. “She’s gone and she isn’t coming back. But I’m here and I’m telling you that you’re getting an abortion and going back to that school to get your diploma. And then you’re going to that community college to become the fucking ballerina that you’ve wanted to be since you were five years old. End of discussion.”
I stare at him, speechless.
It’s not that I begrudge him his anger. Not at all.
He’s well within his rights to be mad at me. To be disappointed in me, but I don’t know how to explain it to him that even though I never expected to get pregnant at eighteen and it wouldn’t have been my first choice, I can’t kill her.
I can’t even call her a mistake because if I call her a mistake, then what about the rest of the world? The odds are stacked against her anyway and I have to do everything in my power to make it easier for her.
She’s mine.
I can’t undergo a cold procedure to flush her out of my body.
I’m already in love with her.
Conrad sighs then, deeply, heavily, as if trying to get himself under control as he begins, “She never finished high school, Mom. You know that, right? She dropped out. She never went to college. Never went anywhere outside of this town. Never did anything. She was born here and she fucking died here. And when she was alive, she worked three jobs. Three fucking jobs. But even that wasn’t enough. She was always falling short, cutting corners. She couldn’t afford day care. So I had to stay home whenever I could to babysit you guys.
“Do you think I liked that? Do you think I liked taking care of you? Wiping up spit and vomit? Cleaning up after you? Do you think a fourteen-year-old enjoys something like that? Instead of hanging out with my friends, chasing after girls, I was chasing after you. I was always chasing after my brothers and sister. When I went to college, on a soccer scholarship no less, I thought I was finally free. I thought I could live my own life now. But then she died. I wasn’t even in college for a full month when I had to come back. To take care of you all. Do you think I never had dreams of my own? Do you think all my dreams are tied to yours?