I sniffle and try to pull myself together, but I can’t quite get there and my attempt at saying “I’m fine” comes out more as a sob.
“We need you to open the door, love,” Mum says.
Oh good, she’s here too. Probably better to get this over with now. I’ll have to tell them both eventually anyway.
I swipe the tears from my face, only to have them replaced with fresh ones, and stand on wobbly legs. I unlock the door with a crisp click and it pops open.
“Hey,” Mum says, her voice soft and soothing. “Can we come in?”
I nod and turn away from them, wrapping my arms around myself as I walk back to my bed. I pull my pillow into my lap, like having something to squeeze will make this easier. It doesn’t, but at least I can bury my face in it.
“What’s going on, mo nighean?” Dad asks, concern clear on his face as he sits on one side of the bed while Mum takes the other. Surrounding but not touching me, like they aren’t sure if I need comfort or space.
When I look up, their gazes are set on me, full of questions, and I know they’ll only have more in a minute. I blow out a breath and with it the words I’ve been avoiding saying aloud pour out. “I’m pregnant.”
Stunned silence.
Nothing but stunned silence.
“But… How?” Dad asks, and then backtracks, horrified by his own question. “No, don’t answer that. I just mean, are you sure? I didn’t…” He looks at my mum, who appears just as bewildered.
She continues his thought. “We didn’t know you were having sex. When did this happen?”
I meet her eyes and they widen at whatever she sees in mine.
“Jamie?” she asks.
I nod and then start to cry again in earnest because how can I not? I told him I loved him and he didn’t reciprocate it… How can I tell him I’m pregnant? He doesn’t even live on this continent. This won’t change that.
“I don’t want to tell him,” I choke out.
“Avi, you have to tell him. He’s a good boy—” she starts, softening her voice and reaching to push a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Man,” Dad cuts in. “If he can get my daughter pregnant, he’s a man, and he should take responsibility like one.”
“What good will it do to tell him?” I ask, looking imploringly at my dad. “He’s not here. He’s… He’s not coming back.” My voice breaks on the last word.
“What do you mean?” he asks, softer now as he slides a hand onto my knee.
“When he finishes school, he’s staying in the States for uni. He’s not coming back to Scotland.” It’s not entirely true. He did say he’d come back next summer, but even if he does, I can’t see him. Not if I don’t tell him. “I don’t want to be the reason he feels like he has to. Not if he doesn’t want to be here, if he doesn’t want me.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t?” Mum asks.
I shake my head. “He doesn’t.”
Dad stiffens, and if I know him at all, he has something to say about Jamie not wanting me, but Mum puts her hand on his thigh and he relaxes and holds his tongue—something I appreciate.
“What doyouwant?” she asks instead, reaching for my hand. It forces me to let the pillow drop to my lap.
The question surprises me because all I’ve thought about since I peed on the stick after school was Jamie and whether or not to tell him I was pregnant, that I was having a baby… I never paused to even think about the options.
“I don’t know. I didn’t think—we were careful, I promise. I don’t know what happened.”
“I believe you,” she says. “Jamie aside, what doyouwant to do, Avonlea?”
I run my free hand across my stomach, and though I know it will be months before there’s anything there to feel, I know I won’t pass on the chance to do so.
“I want to keep it.”
