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“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?
“Mom made a mistake. A huge mistake by having me when she wasn’t ready. And I had to pay for it. Me.” He pounds his chest. “I have to pay for it for the rest of my life. Is that what you want for your baby? To pay for your stupid mistakes? And what about him? Do you think he’ll help you?”
