2002
“You can’t be serious,” Vance said to me over his plate of wings. We were seated at Rosie’s, a small, local bar. It wasn’t anything fancy or even all that great, but we went mainly because Rosie allowed us to drink beer even though we were underage. Rosie was this great Irish lady who was at least a hundred years old. Well, not really, but she looked to be at least that much. Rosie felt that the American drinking age was ridiculous. She always said that in Ireland, you only had to be tall enough to see over the bar to order a drink. However, in her mind, she compromised with the law by only serving beer to her patrons who were close to twenty-one. That was fine with us, we rarely drank hard liquor, although, at this very moment, I could have used at least a shot of Jack.
My nerves were frayed beyond belief. Kylie’s news of her pregnancy rocked me as it was, but the idea that she was even considering terminating it made me sick to my stomach. I hadn’t heard from her since our conversation three days prior. I’d left numerous messages on her voicemail, but they’d all gone unanswered.
“Yeah,” I replied as I stared down into my beer. “I wanted to say the very same thing when she told me, but I tried to be the supportive boyfriend. I failed miserably.”
“How so?” he asked, his face a mixture of confusion and concern.
“I started out okay,” I sighed deeply. “I’d already started devising a plan to get her back out here after the current school semester ended and to get an apartment together. I almost asked her to marry me even, but I thought she already had enough life-changing things on her shoulders. It would have been perfect though. She could take the spring semester off to have the baby and get used to being a mom before going back to school in the fall at UCLA or somewhere nearby. I would have worked around the clock to support both her and the baby.”
“So how did you fail?”
I sighed deeply again, and leaned back in the booth, letting my head thunk against the partition that gave a smidgeon of privacy from the seats behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut as I replied, willing back the tears of bitter disappointment that always stung my eyes when I remembered her suggestion.
“She’s thinking of having an abortion. I didn’t react well to the idea. She wanted to know if I would still love her if she had one, and I told her I didn’t know.”
Vance huffed out a breath as he slowly shook his head. “Dude, you have to admit it’s probably the right thing to do.”
My eyes popped open as I gaped at him. “How can killing our baby be the right thing to do?”
“We’re all just starting out our lives. You don’t want to work in the warehouse forever. Having to support a wife and kids will pretty much ruin any chance you have at finding a career,” he said as he looked at me pointedly.
“Kylie won’t be happy giving up her aspirations of a political career if she’s burdened by becoming a mom at eighteen, either. Be realistic, Justin. What kind of life would you be able to provide either of them? Living in a shitty apartment in Antelope Valley? Trust me, that’s all you’ll be able to afford.”
“Maybe so, but doing the right thing often isn’t the most convenient thing. It’s incredibly selfish to deny a life just because it will complicate your own. That’s our child, a part of the two of us. I can’t seem to get past that.”
“I get that, man. I really do. On the other hand, in the end, this is Kylie’s decision. If you really do love her, then you’ll allow her to make whatever decision she thinks is best.”
“But what about me, Vance?” I asked, clutching my bottle of beer tightly with both hands. I’d never felt so desperate before. “If she loves me, wouldn’t she consider what I want, too? That this baby is a product of our love for each other?”
“First, you need to get your head around the fact it’s not a baby, yet. Right now, it can’t survive on its own. It’s just an ‘it’ right now, not a boy, nor a girl, just an ‘it’.”
“One day it will be, though! The programming is there, so to speak. We may not know what it is yet, but it’s not because it isn’t a boy or a girl yet. It just hasn’t developed into one or the other.”
“That’s precisely my point, Sever. It’s not developed. How many things in life are interrupted before they develop?” I opened my mouth to object further, but Vance held up his hand, silently asking me to keep quiet while he finished his thought. “I know it sounds insensitive to put it that way, but anything in early stages is just something with potential. Your relationship with Kylie is no different when you think about it. You are both eighteen. Realistically, what is the likelihood that you two will be together forever? It may be real now but stop and think. What are the odds?”
“My parents were eighteen when they met,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, so were mine, and look where my mom is now,” Vance shot back.
“I would never do what your scumbag dad did!” I exclaimed. “I’d never abandon my child.”
“Maybe not,” Vance replied in that infuriating measured tone he had, “but you’ll be so busy working trying to support everyone, you’ll hardly be home to see them. Might as well abandon them if you’re not going to be present.” He shrugged once before taking a pull from his bottle of beer.
Deep down, I knew every point he made was valid, I just didn’t want to accept it. Kylie’s decision went against all my values, and I just couldn’t see my way past my own feelings to sympathize with her. I realized that her rejection of our child felt like a rejection of me. I hung my head at the realization.
Kylie had never been anything but loving and giving to me. I’d always been amazed by her selflessness, especially when it came to me. Was it really right to judge her so harshly for one decision where she put herself first? It wasn’t a trivial matter, and though I disagreed mightily with it, if, as Vance said, I loved her, I’d be there to support her and console her when it was all over. I’d really fucked up.
Vance watched at me as he nibbled on the last of our wings. “You get it now, don’t you?”
“Yeah, dude. I do. I’m a selfish moron. I’m just going to keep calling until I get her to talk to me. Maybe somehow, she’ll forgive me.
I called her every day, several times of day for two weeks straight. Finally, I received an email from her. “It’s done. Stop calling me. I hate you, Justin Sever. I wish I’d never met you.”