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Together, Sutton and I search the first floor of the house for my cousin. Just when we're about to give up hope, I spot the familiar dark cascade of hair on the opposite side of the room.
We make our way over to her, and I greet her with concern, "Hey, we've been looking for you. Sarah said you needed to talk to me."
Charlie shushes me urgently, then ushers us upstairs into my bedroom, locking the door behind her. She doesn't waste a second before blurting it out, "I'm pregnant."
I freeze in place, struggling to comprehend. "What?"
"Pregnant," she repeats, more forcefully. "I'm pregnant."
"Shut the fuck up." This has to be some kind of joke, right?
"You're such a dickhead! Listen to me." Charlie enunciates each word slowly, her tone dead serious. "I'm pregnant."
I turn to Sutton, my eyes pleading for confirmation. But I'm met with Sutton's shocked stare, her eyes wide in response to the bombshell Charlie just dropped.
A choked sob pierces the air, sending shivers down my spine. Sutton springs into action, wrapping Charlie in a comforting hug.
I'm still grappling with how to respond. This situation is nothing like what I had expected. Charlie and I have always been close, but how can I possibly help her through this?
Charlie, at just eighteen and yet to graduate from high school, must be terrified. Her family's reaction will undoubtedly be explosive.
Sutton, her voice filled with genuine empathy, offers reassurance, "You're going to be okay. Everything will be okay."
My thoughts snap back into focus, and I join them, enveloping both girls in a tight embrace. A surprise teenage pregnancy might not be the typical occasion for a group hug, but right now, it feels like the right thing to do.
I wrap my arms around both of them. Charlie's tears keep flowing, and it makes me queasy, so I follow my instincts and squeeze them as tightly as I can, lifting them off their feet.
"Stop! Oh my god!" they both squeal in unison.
I set them back down and release them before glancing at Charlie, trying not to make her feel uncomfortable by staring. As I start to process what this will mean for her, my mind drifts to her parents. They aren't here tonight.
I need answers before I can attempt to help her. "Where are your parents?"
Charlie wipes away her tears and sniffs. "They didn't take the news very well. Apparently, a pregnant teenage daughter doesn't live up to their standards." She lets out a humorless laugh. "They kicked me out. I brought my stuff here." She looks at me, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and expectation.
I feel the weight of her situation and the enormity of her parents' reaction. I've only recently started to get my own life together. I've spent years avoiding important matters, but you can't avoid pregnancy; in nine months, the baby will arrive, ready or not.
The shock of her parents kicking her out hits me like a punch to the gut. They've always been stricter than most, but this level of response is unfathomable. What on earth were they thinking?
I don't hesitate to offer my help in any way I can. "You can stay here," I tell Charlie, my voice filled with as much sincerity and warmth as I can muster.
Charlie appears grateful but hesitant. "Will your parents mind?" she asks, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.
"They'd be more than happy to have you live here," I tell her with a reassuring smile. "You know they'd do anything for you."
"I don't want to be a burden," Charlie confesses, her voice tinged with a hint of guilt.
"You could never be a burden," I reply, my conviction unwavering.
Charlie exhales shakily and tells us, "You don't know how much your support means to me."
Sutton, always more adept at handling such situations, chimes in with much need composure, "Things might be hard right now, but everything will work itself out as it's supposed to."
"I want to be excited, but I have huge obstacles in my way," Charlie whispers, her hand absently resting on her stomach, a physical reminder of the challenges that lie ahead.
That's an understatement. The obstacles ahead might as well be as massive as Mount Everest. One pressing question hangs heavily in the air, who's the father of the baby? It's a difficult question, but one that we need to address.
“I hate to ask, but who’s the dad?” I finally muster the courage to broach the topic, my tone gentle but inquisitive.
