That night I called the only person I could think of. I haven’t spoken to Tara in years. We went to high school together, but after high school she moved a few towns over, and we fell out of touch. From social media, I know that she has been married since we were 18 and has a ten year-old stepson. Her husband was a teen father, and he now works as a volunteer firefighter while she stays home and takes care of their son.

I don’t know what else to do. I pick up the phone and dial her number. I need someone to talk to, and I just hope that she answers.

Two hours later, Tara is sitting across from me in my living room. She’s exuberant and red-cheeked and here. Actually here.

“I can’t believe you came over so quickly. It has been so many years and still…” I say.

“Yes, of course, I’m here for you, honey. I’ve wanted to reach out to you for so long. I’m happy to be here,” she gives me another hug.

I told her what happened. I told her I was pregnant and a brief overview of what I’ve been doing with my life and my situation with Wyatt. But tonight, I cover the details. She listens carefully hanging onto each word.

“So, that’s pretty much it,” I say when I get to the end of the story. “Would you like anything else to eat?”

Tara is much bigger than I am. She was always a heavy girl, but now she’s quite large. But despite that, she’s beautiful. Her kindness oozes from her, and I wonder how every single person she encounters doesn’t fall in love with her.

“No, I’m fine,” she says. “So what do you think you want to do? About the baby?”

I shrug. I don’t know.

“Either way, you should probably tell Wyatt.”

I nod. I know she’s right. “I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know? You don’t think he’ll take it well?”

I think about that for a moment. “I actually have no idea how he’s going to take it. But shouldn’t I know what I want to do before I tell him?”

“Perhaps. But you know, it’s not just your decision entirely. Besides, he might be very supportive about either decision you make.”

“But what if I don’t want to keep it and he does? What then?”

She shrugs. The very thought of that sends chills through my body. Can I really have this baby just for him to raise it? But what if I don’t want to have it and he does? Does that give me the right to get rid of it?

“I just don’t know. That’s why I wanted to call you. You’re my oldest friend, even though we haven’t been very close recently.”

“I’m always here for you. You know that, right?”

I nod. “I do now.”

We sit together without saying a word for some time. I don’t know what to say or do, but the mere presence of her puts me at ease. Breathing gets a little easier. My jaw doesn’t clench so much.

“What about your mom? Did you tell her?” Tara asks.

Oh, crap. My mom! “No, I didn’t,” I shake my head and tell her what happened with my mom. About her sickness and recovery. About her becoming a completely different person. A person that would take a long time to get to know.

“You shouldn’t judge her so harshly, Brielle,” Tara says after listening to the whole story. “You don’t know what it’s like to be on a brink of death like that. It’s very difficult and probably terrifying. She’s just trying to live her life now. Who knows what kind of regrets she’s trying to get past now that she’s actually alive.”

I never thought of it that way. To me, as it is with probably many people, my mom isn’t a whole person with her own desires and hopes and regrets. She’s just some reflection of me. It’s crazy to say that out loud, but I never thought of my mom out of my own context. She was always my mom. Not Danielle. Not a woman who survived the death of a child and her own battle with cancer. Thinking of her now as Danielle, I see her in a different light.