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“The doctor will be in shortly,” she said abruptly and then left. We waited another half hour before another woman came in, this one wearing a white lab coat and a nametag that said Dr. Turner.
"I see by your chart you don't have health insurance, is that right?" Dr. Turner asked.
Ivy nodded her head, and we exchanged worried looks.
"You'll need to call Department of Human Services to check out your options for prenatal care. You're pregnant."
She said other things. Gave us samples. The nurse came in. She said things. I didn't catch any of it, and I'm not sure Ivy did either.
We rode home in stunned silence. Neither of us spoke until we got to the apartment. We lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment in a really shitty part of town. It was fine for two girls, but it was terrible for raising a kid.
Ivy dropped into a wooden chair in the kitchen and covered her face with both hands. "My life is officially ruined."
"I don't know," I said slowly. "You've got options."
"You're going to be an aunt," she said, ignoring me. "Being an aunt is awesome. Being a mom is not. You can go out and do shit when you want. A kid is twenty-four-seven obligation. We both know I can barely care for myself. It's a good thing Mom and Dad are dead because this would kill them. After they killed me."
"They would not," I objected almost automatically.
She turned to me in astonishment. "God, I can't believe I'm so ignorant that I failed to realize I wasn't just getting fat, I was pregnant. You know what Jimmy said to me the other day? Lay off the cheeseburgers, or I'll have to send you to One Dollar. Do you know what kind of hellhole that place is? It's so rundown that the strippers pay the clients to sit and watch them take off their clothes."
"We'll get you another job. Maybe Tucker could hire you. You could be the shop bitch."
"Nice, and no. I'm not going to work at your fancy tattoo parlor because I can't draw and I can't tattoo anyone, and I don't want to learn either. I’ll keep waiting tables. That brings in decent money."
For how long? It sounded like she had bypassed all her options but one.
I took a seat next to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. She felt thin, frail beneath my arm. She had gone into prison a junky with lanky hair and skin that was going bad and came out dry and healthy looking. But Ivy, who stood four inches taller than me, had always been very slender. She could barely take care of herself, let alone a child.
"There are clinics," I started to say, but she cut me off.
"I'm not doing that." She shrugged off my arm and went to the refrigerator. "I should probably drink more milk and shit like that. Throw me the bag of samples the doc gave us. Those prenatal vitamins are in there."
"Why not consider termination as an option?" I said, handing her the bag.
"I want to have this baby, Winter. I keep thinking how your birth mother carried you to term even though it must have been so hard for her. Whatever her circumstances. If she had aborted you, I wouldn't have you. I can't do that, Winter."
In the dark of night, we'd whispered all our fears to each other, and mine had made a bigger impact than I'd realized.
"I don't feel that way now," I urged.
"Winter, please, I want this baby." Her hand cupped her belly, and she looked at me with fierceness. “You have got to be with me on this. I know I can't do it alone. Together you and I are the Donovan sisters, and we can do anything."
We really couldn’t. I thought of our tiny bank account. I looked around at our shitty apartment. I squeezed her tighter. "Then maybe adoption."
"Seriously, do I even know you? We aren't letting someone raise our kid, Winter. I remember all those nights you cried in my arms, wondering why she gave you up. Why she wouldn't fight for you. I don't want that either. Please help me. This baby is going to be yours and mine. We'll raise it together." She pushed away and pulled out the vitamin box. I wondered how much those would cost. Babies were ridiculously expensive.
"How?" I asked helplessly. "We can't afford another place, especially if you won't have your tips from Riskie's."
"I'll get another job," she said stubbornly. Two pills disappeared in her mouth, and she washed them down with a glass of milk.
"What about the father?"
She was quiet for a long time before admitting, "Not sure."
I tried not to appear too judgy but must have failed.
"Look, I just got out of prison, and I felt…worthless and demoralized. I was a felon at the age of twenty-five. I had no job prospects. They do counseling when you're nearing your release date. They tell you that you have to have a positive attitude, or you'll wind up back in jail. So when I got out, I admit I went a little crazy, but it woke me up, and I've been sober now for over a hundred days." She waved a coin that Margo must have brought her.
