Lena
I spend the evening binging on ice cream and trashy rom-coms. I feel like I’ve earned the privilege to wallow, and I feel like I’ve earned my feelings as far as feeling like I was completely duped by Booster goes. I wouldn’t call myself inconsolable … But I’m definitely not feeling much by way of positive emotions, either.
Whatever the case, I clean out my freezer’s supply of ice cream, and then I get to thinking.
I’ve never let a man get in the way of my life. It’s part of the reason that I’m single, anyway. Or was. I’m still not sure what to call Booster and me, aside from nothing right not.
The point is, I’ve never let a man get in the way of what I want, and I’m not going to start doing so. I have a child on the way, and with or without Booster, this is the reality of my life.
I ignore the texts that come in from Booster in favor of turning off my cell off. I’ll be too tempted to call him and tell him to fuck himself and never speak to me again, and while the emotion is certainly there, I know that right now, there are more important things than catering to the whims of a man.
It’s late, but I call my mother.
We don’t talk as often as I’d like, but any time I need her, she’s always there to listen to me. It’s a relationship that works well for us; I’m busy with work, and it’s not like she’s stopped being a foster mother, either. My supply of brothers and sisters is never low, and I love her for it. Her love is boundless and unconditional.
Unlike someone that I know.
It takes two rings before she answers.
“Lena, darling, it’s been a while. How’re you doing, baby?”
My mother’s voice is warm and caring. It’s easy to forget my troubles when I hear it, usually. Now, though, I’m a little hesitant. I have no idea what she’s going to say when I tell her what I need to …
“Lena?” She sounds a little worried now at my silence. “Lena, honey, are you all right?”
I take a deep breath and tell her.
I leave out the details like Booster offering to pay me, the fact that he approached me to begin with over having a baby with him. Admitting it out loud is something that I can’t do right now. I feel almost ashamed about it.
Instead, I tell her that I met a guy. And he was really nice and awesome—she worries, very vocally, when I explain about the crash, but is awed that Booster put so much effort into keeping me safe and making sure that I was okay.
“He sounds like a little bit of a dreamboat, honey,” she says when I come to that point in the conversation. “So, what’s the matter? What happened? Do I need to find him and put a boot in his ass?”
“No, Mama … No. Mama. I’m—I’m pregnant,” I whisper. “And I think that he’s been with other women. I thought that this was what I wanted, that he was what I wanted. But he and I live such … different lives with such different scopes of reference; I have no idea how I even thought that something like this would work out.”
“Oh … oh, honey …” I can hear my mother sigh on the other side of the phone. I fight the urge to cry, because I haven’t so far, and I’m not going to start on account of Booster Wylde and I making really, really dumb choices.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” I say. I don’t know what else I could possibly say at this point.
“Hun, you don’t have to be sorry about anything. Forget the stupid man for a moment here. Do you want this child?”
I answer without a moment of hesitation.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Then you focus on that child. You’re going to be a mother, and that means that that child is going to be your personal only priority at this point. That kid is going to be your sun and your moon, and your life is going to revolve around them. Whatever happens with you and this biker boy … it’ll fall into place over time, after you’ve gotten your head a little more situated. Start looking into prenatal doctors; get yourself some vitamins; and figure out what you’re going to do once the baby’s born, okay? Don’t buy anything just yet; I’ll mail you some things I’m not using. We’ll get through this, all right, Lena? You’re a smart, loving girl, and you’re going to be a good mother. This goon is either going to step up to the plate, or he’s not, but it’s nothing that’s going to hold you back, you hear?”
I nod.
“I hear you.”
“Good, good. I’ll let you know when I’ve mailed everything out. It might take a while for me to go through everything, but you have nine months,” she laughs. Surprisingly, the sound of it makes a smile of my own spread across my face. Calling my mother was definitely a good idea. The situation hasn’t changed. I’m still going to have to deal with a lot after this—namely what I’m supposed to do about Booster—but it’s nothing that I can’t handle. I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not helpless, not in the slightest. So I’m not going to treat the situation like I am.
“Thanks, Mama.”
“Anytime, hun. Anytime.”
***
The rest of the weekend is spent getting my head back on the right way. I continue to ignore the small stream of texts I get from Booster, until my phone stops going off because of him. I think he gets the hint that I don’t want to talk, and I hope that he heeds that. The thought of him doing something like coming over here doesn’t escape me, but if I’m lucky, he’ll give me the space that I deserve until it’s about time to talk to him again. When will it be time to talk to him again?
Well, I have no idea. We’ll get there eventually, though.
Instead, I clear out the second room upstairs. I was using it for a storage room, but given that it’s the only free room aside from my office, I figure it’s as good a room as any to go ahead and use for a nursery. I want to get that started as soon as possible, leaving little room for having to scramble at the last minute to get it all nice and done.
When the second room is cleared out, I take a break and start looking through my finances. I know, roughly, how much it takes to bring a child into the world. I figure if I work out how I’m going to be looking money-wise (without Booster’s help, because I’m not confident enough in him sticking around to assume that I’m even going to have his help after this little fiasco) I’ll be better prepared to have a large expense flux in the next nine months. It’s good that I have decent insurance through work; I would be a little more than up shit creek without a paddle if I didn’t.
I’ll need to work something out. Maybe start doing some tutoring, or take some extra classes, but it’s something that I’m willing to do. After all, it’s like Mama said. I need to think about that baby.
The week progresses, and I hear nothing more from Booster. Sometimes I catch myself staring out the classroom window at lunch thinking that it would be nice to see him pass by, but I don’t let myself get too wrapped up in those thoughts. At some point, I’ll need to talk to him about everything. Get to the bottom of what happened and ask him what it is exactly that he wants from me. A baby, certainly, but I’ve come to want more, too.
Depending on his answer, there are a few ways that I can proceed.
On the plus side, I don’t have a ton of empty time to have these options floating in my head without any other company. While I keep my options at a priority level in my head, I have something else to focus on in the meantime.
A school dance.
High school kids are so easy to entertain when they’re given something that actually interests them, and the school dance is one of the few things that the school does that holds their attention raptly. They end up getting distracted by the whole fanfare of it—from the announcement of theme, voting for the homecoming King and Queen, chatting away about who’s taking whom and what they’re going to do about it. Then among the girls there’s talk of dresses; and the boys are wondering if they can convince their parents to let them rent a limo, all in the hopes of getting laid.
It’s all very, very amusing, and it’s something that I look forward to every single year.
So instead of worrying over Booster, and what I could or could not be doing with him at the moment, I instead throw myself into working to make the school dance something magical for the kids. The theme for this year is Renegade. We’ve got lots of black, red, and silver decorations, and have managed to get a local rock band to come play for us, too. Balloons float all over the gym in the dance’s colors, and thick glitter and confetti cover the floor (I feel a little bad for the people that are going to have to clean up afterward, considering the fact there’s a lot of it around.)
Right now, though, I stand off to the side, swaying a little to the music that’s playing and echoing off the gym walls. I’m there as a chaperone, though I keep my distance and let the kids have fun. I don’t think it’s necessary to step in every time one of them gets a little too close (a kiss here or there can’t hurt the young ones, and there are plenty of other chaperones there that can take the brunt of being the bad guys.)
“Ms. Hedlund!” My attention is taken away when one of my students—a young girl named Mary—comes up to me along with one of her friends. She’s very pretty in a deep red, almost ball-gown- like dress. I smile at her.
“Hello, Mary. Is there something that you need?”
She giggles, hiding it behind her hand.
“Ms. Hedlund, you remember that hunk that used to come around on the motorcycle?” she asks me. I tilt my head. What does she want to know with Booster?
“Yes … What about him?”
She blushes furiously, pointing across the gym.
“I think he’s trying to surprise you, Ms. Hedlund. How romantic!” She and her friend swoon, going back to each other and chattering away about how romantic and sweet it is that my biker boy would come to a school dance for me. I, on the other hand, follow the line that Mary pointed out.
There’s a man talking to the principal. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him; he’s a clean-cut gentleman, tall, not wearing a suit, but he’s in nice slacks and a shirt and—
Oh. Oh my god.
It is Booster.
I don’t know what he’s saying to my boss, but there’s a smile on his face and while I don’t hear him, I just assume that it’s nothing good.
Ignoring my post, I make my way through the thick throng of students that’s forming on the dancefloor as the music starts to pick up. I maneuver around dancing bodies, bumping into them occasionally.
I don’t know what the hell Booster thinks he’s doing here.
But I know that it can’t possibly be anything good.