Ryan
Granite Harbor, Maine
Spring 2002
Something’s wrong with Merit, I think when I see her ash-colored face coming from the bathroom.
“Hey,” I say, fear building in my body.
“Hey,” she says and walks into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.
Something’s definitely wrong.
I tell Eli that I’ll meet him downtown, that I have to talk to Merit about a school project. We don’t even have the same classes. She’s in all the AP classes, the smart-kid classes, and she’s a senior, but I don’t care what he’s thinking right now. I need to check on Mer.
Eli leaves, and I knock on her door before I enter. I’ve seen her naked, so if she’s changing, it would be all right. More than all right.
“Mer, you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she lies.
“Mer, what’s wrong?” Hesitantly, I walk to her, not knowing what she needs right now, but I take my hand and slide it up her arm. “Violet?”
I feel her body flinch at the name. Something she’s never done.
“Ryan,” she finally says, reaching into her purse. She hands me a white stick that looks like a thermometer.
Does she have a fever? Is she sick?
The problem with the thermometer is, it doesn’t have a place for numbers. I want to tell her that she needs to get her money back or get this one fixed, but I’m not sure what she’s trying to say with this.
Oh. God.
Just for clarification’s sake, I ask, “What’s this?”
“It’s a positive pregnancy test, Ryan.”
I need to sit. I need some stability behind me to hold me up because, all of a sudden, I feel light-headed. I manage to get to the bed and stare at the pregnancy test.
“This can’t be right,” I say, grasping for reality. This cannot be reality right now.
“What?”
“We wore a condom, Mer. This can’t be right.”
This isn’t bad. This is an okay thing. So badly, I want to pull Merit in my arms and tell her we’ll be just fine. That I can take my GED, and I’ll get another job. That we can find a place in Granite Harbor together. That we’ll have a life together. We’ll get married. And everything will be all right.
But that’s not what she wants.
She wants the West Coast.
She wants college.
She’s been dreaming of this since we were kids.
I look at her open closet door and see pictures of the school she wants to attend in California. Marine animals. Otters. Whales. Dolphins. Exotic fish. Near her light switch, she has a University of San Diego pennant. The one Rebecca bought for her. I glance at her nightstand to see a picture of the Young family.
This dream she’s worked for all her life. I can’t stand in the fucking way of all that. I won’t let anything hold her back from a life, a good life, that she’s been building with her smart-girl classes in high school. I won’t let anything stand in the way of that. Having a baby and staying in Granite Harbor would keep her here. And, as much as I want her to stay, she can’t.
“You’re sure it’s mine?” Every fucking word kills me.
Silence.
I see her face contort as I try to stare her in the eyes, proving my question is valid. Real. It isn’t. I know Merit loves me.
“What?”
I see the pain written on her face. The insult. The sadness.
“You’re sure it’s mine? The baby.” It rips me to shreds. Fight, Ryan. For her sake. “I just want to be sure—”
“What do you mean?”
Merit’s eyes meet mine. If hearts could crack, mine just did. All over the floor, making a mess of things.
Turn off your love and lie to her fucking face. Because you owe her this.
Heartbreak can be telling. Heartbreak can be seen and not heard.
This I experience with Merit when she says, “Ryan, you were my first. And you think I’m just going to mess around with someone else?”
I shake my head.
Fucking fight for her future because she won’t do it, and you know how bad she wants this. Fight.
“You’ve got to get an abortion. I can’t have a kid right now. I’m a junior in high school, Mer.”
I see the walls go up. Her heart snaps shut. All in a matter of seconds.
“Besides”—I put the nail in the coffin—“you’re not the only one I’m sleeping with, Mer. Come on, you know there are no guarantees in life.”
I know this statement alone does its job. Does what I intended it to do. I see it in her face. The disbelief. The hurt. Sadness. Then, anger.
This will be the last time Merit will face me again. I feel it in my gut.
I follow her to Portland. Watch her as she sits in the car and cries.
It will be a long road. But she’ll get to where she needs to. Merit Young always does.
I watch her as she leaves the appointment, wiping her face dry, a few papers clasped in her hand. I wonder what they say.
The truth is, I haven’t been sleeping with someone else. I could never do that to Merit. And I’ve never regretted telling that lie. I’ll take this information to the grave.
I guess I have faith that life will work itself out. If I’m not meant to have Merit, then I’ll have to live with that. But I know she is meant to fulfill her ambition. Her goals that she’s dreamed about since we were kids.
I watch as she gets into her Jeep and shuts the door.
I wait.
I follow her when she pulls away from the curb and drives to a bookstore not far from the clinic.
She walks out with a book, but I can’t read the title.
I hope it is a read that keeps her mind busy. Passes the time. Makes up for the heartbreak I’ve caused.
This is for the better, I tell myself and pull away from the curb.
Merit Young will be all right. Eventually.