Bambi

 

I scrolled through the list of available classes and frowned at the computer screen. There were so many options, and it was impossible to wrap my brain around what I needed to do. There were some that I could take online, but I longed to get out of the house and interact with other students. I wished I could go to the local college and actually speak with a counselor, but that wasn’t going to happen. No matter what decisions I made, there was one big obstacle that I had to get out of the way before I could do anything about them.

 

I was back to living under Mother’s rule. It was even worse than it had been before. I couldn’t take one step out the door or hardly even look out the window without her jumping out of nowhere and yelling at me. “It’s not safe out there!” she would scream, or “You don’t want the newspeople snapping pictures of you when you aren’t ready, do you?” This was usually followed by a detailed critique of my skincare routine and how much conditioner I was using. And in some sense, I couldn’t quite argue with her when it came to the news. She had created a media circus with her claims of my kidnapping, and she had been effective in keeping me away from anyone whom I might tell the truth. There was no way Monique Bidwell was going to be made a fool of, especially if her daughter was the one who wanted to do it.

 

The last few weeks had passed with a painful slowness. Every day, I woke up with my stomach lurching up through my throat as though it was trying to escape the child growing within me. I had taken to keeping crackers and a glass of water at my bedside, because I couldn’t seem to get up in the morning without it. Of course, there was little reason for me to get up. There was no place for me to go, no friends to talk to, and no real idea of just what I was going to do with myself. Most of all, there was no Snake.

 

That was what hurt the most. Snake was a biker, a rough guy and a badass. Going on his looks alone, I never could have expected him to be a decent man. But he had shown me, in those tiny little ways he had, that he really was more than just a man on a motorcycle. There were no grand gestures other than the one he had made when he had taken me in and let me go with him after Mother kicked me out. But I knew now that he hadn’t been gallant or kind, he had just been out to win a bet. After all, what better way to get a girl knocked up than to keep her close so you can have sex every night?

 

As mad as I was at Snake, I was angry at myself. I had been stupid enough to fall for him and to fall for his games. It was my gullibility that had gotten me into that situation, and I wasn’t much better off with Snake than I had been with Mother. After all, he had essentially kept me prisoner, swearing that he would never let me leave. I had been adapting to his lifestyle without question, doing what he wished and when. I was nothing more than an idiot.

 

Mother had pretended to be grateful when the police had brought me home that night, but as soon as she was done with them she had turned to me with fury. “How dare you run off like that? Don’t you see all the trouble you’ve caused? Not just for me, but for the police and the citizens of Myrtle Creek and everyone else who worried about you? At the very least, you could have called.” Her hair was sticking up in all directions, making her look just as crazy as she sounded. She had tearfully swiped at her eyes as she had spoken to the police, making a long dark smudge of eyeliner across her temple.

 

“Mother, you kicked me out!” I had protested. In that moment, I didn’t mind standing up to her. I was angry at Snake, angry at myself, and angry at her for lying about the situation and causing the whole fiasco with the cops. “You knew perfectly well I hadn’t been kidnapped.”

 

“I most certainly did not!” She stood tall—well, as tall as she could—and indignant. “You left here, but I had no way of knowing that awful biker man hadn’t captured you and made you his slave! Forgive me for thinking my daughter had better taste than that. I know I raised you better than that!”

 

“Did you?” I challenged. “Did you really even raise me at all? You’ve done nothing but stuff me into dresses and pouf up my hair and teach me how to wear makeup at far too young an age. You only cared about how I looked and how I performed. As long as I was putting trophies on the shelf, you were happy, but heaven forbid I should want to do something for myself for a change!”

 

“How dare you?” She poked one manicured finger into my chest. “I did far more for you than most mothers do for their children. You never would have won those trophies without me.” Mother threw her shoulders back and gave me a challenging look of indignance.

 

“I didn’t even want them in the first place!” Tears had streamed down my cheeks. “I would smash them all right now into little golden pieces if I felt I had the strength. And you know what? I’ll never win another one, because I’m pregnant!”

 

That had been the very last straw. The news had shut Mother’s mouth instantly. She pursed her lips as she trembled, her entire body shaking with hatred. “You horrid little brat,” she finally whispered, barely opening her mouth enough to speak. “I hope you know you’ve ruined your entire life. You’ll never be anybody now. All my hard work has gone right down the drain.” She had turned and gone to her bedroom, slamming the door so hard that the trophies on the mantel clinked against each other. She didn’t emerge until the next day.

 

After that, we lived like two strangers in the same house. We were in the same room when we had to be, but we each kept to ourselves as much as possible. I had noticed, though, that in the last few days she seemed to be in a far more pleasant mood. She smiled to herself as she made her coffee in the morning, and when she looked at me it was no longer with distaste but something else I couldn’t quite identify.

 

“Mother? Could you come in here for a moment?” My stomach shook, either from the baby or from fear. I had to have her permission if I wanted to do this, because I had no money to do it on my own. She hadn’t like the idea of college when I had graduated high school, thinking there were “better” opportunities out there for a young lady like me instead of burying my nose in a bunch of useless books. Clearly, that hadn’t worked out so well.

 

Mother came into the living room from the kitchen, where she had been flipping through numerous catalogues strewn about on the kitchen table. “What is it, dear?” she asked pleasantly.

 

The lilt in her voice sent a chill down my spine. I ignored her pet name and pointed at the screen. “Come look at these classes. They’re not too expensive, and I could take them from home.” My finger trembled, and I quickly set my hand back down on the mouse.

 

She frowned, but she did what I asked and crossed the room to bend over my shoulder. The cloying scent of her perfume wrapped around me like a noose, choking me. “Introduction to Writing? American Literature? What on earth would you take classes like that for?”

 

I had known this argument would be coming, and I was ready for it. “Ever since I came back, I’ve started writing again. I had done some of it in high school, and I forgot how much I loved it. Remember that award I got for my poetry?” I had received a certificate, not a trophy, and it had been buried in a box of schoolwork somewhere and forgotten.

 

She sniffed. “Yes, but I don’t see what good that’s going to do you. What would you even write about?”

 

I shrugged, floundering a little. “I’m sure I could find plenty of things to write about once I had the education under my belt. Maybe my experiences as a beauty queen would help other girls out.” I highly doubted it, but I had to find something that would make her a little more enthusiastic about the idea.

 

“You aren’t thinking straight, Bambi.” She picked my hair up off the back of my neck and began running it through her hands, pushing her fingernails between the strands to comb them out. “Even if you took the classes, and even if you got the degree, it isn’t as though someone would pay you to write. It would be a complete waste of my money and of your time.”

 

“But there are professional writers all over the place,” I countered. “Someone has to write for the newspaper or for magazines. People write commercials and movie scripts and pamphlets. There are plenty of jobs out there if you just think about them.”

 

“I’m sure you’re right. But are those people actually making any money? They’re behind the scenes, darling. Nobody sees them or cares about them. What a pity it would be to have you hiding behind a computer instead of out in the public.”

 

I turned to stare at her. The woman who had been refusing to even let me go to the corner store for a loaf of bread was talking about me being in the limelight. “What?”

 

“You know, honey, it isn’t as though everyone is just going to forget about you now that you’re home. You have some duties yet to perform as Peach Festival Queen. Now, don’t worry. I’ve been able to put off the town council and explain to them that you’re recovering, but it’s time that you get back out there.”

 

“Why would they want me at all? I would have thought they would have demanded that I resign my title by now.” I had tossed the crown in a roadside ditch, and the sash had been pitched in a garbage can at some random gas station. I hadn’t shown any respect for the title or the town, and it was hard to imagine that anyone could forget it.

 

Mother laughed, a sound that grated against my teeth. “Sweetheart, you never see the big picture, do you? That’s why you need me here at your side. You see, there’s going to be a ribbon cutting at that new convenience store on the edge of town, and that’s the perfect chance for you to go back to normal life. We’ll get you a new dress and everything.”

 

I was completely bewildered. “But I’m pregnant. Surely that rumor has flown around town already.” I knew how Myrtle Creek worked. You were good and wholesome and wonderful until you got yourself knocked up. Nobody ever blamed a guy, either. It was always the woman’s fault. That was what happened when you lived in a small southern town.

 

“Oh, I’ve got that all taken care of as well. You see, the local news is coming by tomorrow to do a follow-up piece on you. Everyone is anxious to see how you’re doing now that you’re home and safe again. We’ll confirm the rumors about the baby—because it isn’t as though we can really hide it—but you’ll let everyone know that awful biker raped you.”

 

A wave of shock nearly knocked me out of my chair. “We can’t do that! It isn’t true!”

 

She ignored me. “I don’t think we’ll share any details, not unless we get you a spot on a national news show or a documentary, which I fully expect to happen. A raped beauty queen? The media will descend on that like a bunch of buzzards, each of them fighting to get the exclusive.” Her face was lit with excitement as she stared into the distance and fantasized. “Maybe I should get you an agent? I could still be your manager, of course, but an agent with all the right connections—”

 

“Mother!”

 

“Yes, yes. You’re right. We need to focus on tomorrow’s interview first, and then we can take it from there. This will get you plenty of sympathy, and nobody will be able to cast any blame on you at all. The town will take its crowned sweetheart right back into its arms, and you can start living your life like you always did.”

 

I wasn’t interested in that same life, and I had thought I had been saved from at least some of it by the coming baby. “Mother, this isn’t right. Snake didn’t do anything wrong, and we can’t villainize him like this just for my sake. Or yours.” I said this last part quietly.

 

Mother rolled her eyes. “Snake. You think with a name like that he could ever be considered innocent? No matter what happened while you were gone, you can’t tell me he was a complete angel. It’s just not like that in the real world, Bambi. Don’t go thinking people are nice and kind, because I promise you they aren’t.”

 

I had learned that lesson well, but mostly from watching her. I turned back toward the desk. “No, they’re not.”

 

“We’ll give it a couple months and play it out. After all, you are sweet and young and innocent, and you have high moral standards.” She continued to play with my hair, piling it up on my head and twisting it into little knots. “But we can do another news release down the road to let everyone know you miscarried.”

 

My vision tunneled, darkening around the edges until I could only see the brilliant computer screen. It was a shockingly white light, but it seemed so far away. “Miscarried?”

 

“Oh, don’t worry. We can find a nice family somewhere up north—nice and far away—to adopt the baby. But a miscarriage will buy you a few more months out of the spotlight. Once it’s done, we can whip you back into shape and get you out there again.” She clapped her hands together lightly as though she had just accomplished something delightful.

 

“Mother,” I whispered, “I’m not giving up this child.”

 

Swiveling around the desk chair so I had to face her again, she bent down so that her face was level with mine. “And just what sort of options do you think you have? This isn’t something you want. Getting pregnant was just an unfortunate byproduct of your wild adventure. You’re too young, and you have too much ahead of you.”

 

I stood up and stormed across the room, folding my arms and staring out the front window. “Some of that might be true. I didn’t really mean to get pregnant. But I am, and I’ve accepted that. I wish you would as well.”

 

Mother sighed. “Bambi, listen. Let’s pretend for just a moment that you have that baby and you keep it. Do you have any idea how expensive a baby is? At the very least, you have formula, bottles, diapers, wipes, clothes, blankets, sheets, a crib, a stroller, and a car seat. Don’t forget toys, shoes, coats, and doctor visits. That’s not even including all the other little things you would want for the baby. I was just looking through a catalogue in the other room and adding it all up in my head. You aren’t ready for a financial burden like that.”

 

“I might be, if you would let me get out in the world on my own and have some experiences.” I kept my arms crossed.

 

“May I remind you that you did get out in the world for a little while, and look where it’s gotten you? Do you expect me to pay for this child? It isn’t as though you could go get a job, because then you would have to pay for daycare. You spend the afternoon calling around and checking rates, my dear, and that alone will make you change your mind.” She wagged her finger in the air at me, sure that crunching numbers would affect how I felt about this baby.

 

While I could easily have argued that I could get an evening job and Mother could watch the baby when she got home from work, I knew I would never let that happen. I didn’t want her influence on any child of mine. She would only raise the baby to believe that I was some horrible, ungrateful daughter. Or perhaps, if it was a girl, she would stuff her in uncomfortable dresses and show her off to other old women. I shuddered at the thought. I shook my head, exasperated. “I’m sure I could find some way to work it out. And there’s always child support.”

 

“Ha!” Mother threw her hands in the air and laughed. “You really are naïve if you think some loser like that is going to give you money just for giving birth to his brat. Even if you had the child support ordered through the state, the jerk would never stay still long enough for you to track him down when he quit paying. Your father never gave me a dime for you, you know.”

 

I’d heard her mention this before. She refused to say much about my father, but she never neglected to tell me just how he had left her in the lurch and that it had all been on her shoulders. Mother was always completely innocent. My father—the ghost of some dream Mother had had years ago—was always the culprit.

 

“Snake just isn’t like that,” I insisted. I was surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth, considering how much I had loathed him when I had heard about the bet. But I still felt there was some trace of decency in him, or perhaps I just hoped there was.

 

“You just wait and see, missy. I know I’m right, and someday you will, too. Now, then. Let’s figure out your hair and makeup for the news report. I think we should get you a trim and cut off all those dead ends, but I want to leave it nice and long. It makes you look more innocent, you know, so you should wear it down for the interview. I ordered a new pair of those blue contacts you wanted, since I seem to have misplaced the last pair. We might have to go up a shade on your foundation, since you spent far too much time out in the sun, but we can blend it all nicely together and have you presentable.” She finally came close to me once again, and her eyes scrunched up and she inspected my face.

 

I had never felt more alone in my life. I didn’t have Snake anymore. I had never really had Mother, and what friends I used to have weren’t really friends at all. The only person I had was this baby, and who knew what would happen to it. I was stuck and alone, and still nothing more than a prisoner.

 

Mother had completely moved on from talk of the baby, and her tone implied there was no more time for arguments. She pushed me down the hallway to the bathroom. “Let’s go ahead and do a test run. I don’t want to get down the wire and find that something doesn’t work right. Also, we absolutely must go out and get you some new clothes. There isn’t time to go to any of the specialty boutiques, but I think we can find something suitable at the mall.” She set me down in front of the lighted makeup mirror and began raking a brush through my hair, yanking my head back with every stroke. “I’m thinking something conservative, but still cute. Maybe a skirt suit. That should hide that little bit of a bump you have going on, as well. I wonder if one of my old girdles would work?”

 

I watched myself in the mirror as though watching a stranger, a stranger who had never been happy for a moment of her life. A tear welled up in my eye and dripped down my cheek, following all those tears that had gone before it. Many times since I’d returned home, I’d thought I had cried myself completely out. I had prepared myself to be numb to everything going on around me, but it never happened. Every day, I woke up and I was once again disappointed to find myself in the same cage I had always been in.