Chapter Eleven
Quinn
Merry Go Round Breakdown
“I just don’t feel like going out, Rochelle. You know we have mid-terms to study for.”
“Oh, quit being such a bookworm for once. I haven’t seen you in forever, and you need to get out. Besides, you still haven’t told me how the ‘babysitting’ job went. I need deets, girl—and you need some fun. I want to hear all the gory details while on top of the Ferris wheel where the guys won’t eavesdrop.”
Ugh. The thought of swinging upward in a metal bucket at the carnival makes me heave. Rochelle knows I never liked carnival rides. How does she expect me to think of this as fun? She just wants to get me alone and pump me for information. And at the same time try to fix me up with her boyfriend Alex’s buddy that’s just blown into town for the weekend. Neither one appeals to me right now.
“I’ll pass on the Ferris wheel, thanks,” I say, my stomach already twitching in alarm.
“Oh, all right. We’ll find somewhere to dish out of earshot. Trent is really stoked about meeting you, though. Alex told him what a stunner you are.”
“Great. Thanks. Just what I need. Another dude who thinks my only credentials are my tits and ass. Good work, Roch. Can’t we go somewhere else besides the amusement park?”
“No! You know this mobile carnival is a fundraiser for the ASU grad class. We have to support it. And your tits and ass need a break from the books just as much as the rest of you. We’ll let the boys blow a bunch of money trying to win us giant stuffed bears, what do you say?”
Against my better judgment, I say yes. I’ve already studied my ass off, trying to distract myself from the real world, and probably couldn’t cram one more stat or research paper into my memory if I tried.
“Great!” Rochelle says. “We’ll pick you up at six, just when the lights come on. And wear something sexy for a change, will you? I don’t want Trent to see you in your natural habitat of baggy sweats and varsity hoodies.”
With a sigh, I hang up on Rochelle. It couldn’t hurt to have a change of scenery. Whenever I do feign to glance out my window all I see is the quiet house and empty yard next door. I’ve given up hoping to catch a glimpse of Rose, or Logan. They seem to have shut themselves off from everything, especially me.
It’s November, which makes it over two months that I’ve known Logan, but also two weeks since I saw him last. And it’s been two weeks of hell. No matter how much I try to force him out of my mind, one thing makes it impossible. I check my computer calendar again, just to make sure I haven’t miscounted. And just like the last three times I checked… I haven’t.
I’m late.
Really late.
When I missed my October period I didn’t think much of it; with the stress of a new school year and the pressures of my Master’s program that can happen. But with November nearly gone and still no period, I realize I have a problem on my hands. My unruly stomach should have tipped me off, but in my distress over Logan, I thought it was just nerves.
Waiting any longer won’t solve anything, so I decide to take the trip to the drugstore that I’ve been putting off. I have to know. And if a pregnancy test shows positive, I have to take responsibility. I have no one to blame but myself. We used condoms when we could, but there were so many times where things were just spontaneous. Logan and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other for long, no matter where we went.
I feel guilty enough for being so careless, but it’s not the possibility of being pregnant that scares me or bothers me the most. It’s that my father, the doctor, the one who promoted family planning to all his patients, will be so disappointed in me.
***
“Loosen up, will you?” Rochelle almost snarls in my ear. “God, you’re stiff as an icicle. Trent thinks he might get frostbite if he even tries to hold your hand.”
“Just leave me alone,” I say. “I’m here aren’t I? I never said I’d make out with the guy.”
“I didn’t ask you to. Didn’t think I had to… look at him!”
I had to admit Alex’s friend Trent was pretty handsome; in that arrogant, frat boy kind of way. Perfect hair, nice eyes, strong chin, and athletic. Not a bad package—if you like that sort of thing. He flashes a toothy white smile my way as I suck a fruit smoothie from a straw. Rochelle elbows me, so I smile back, just to be cordial. Flirting is the last thing on my mind.
He and Alex are playing a shooting game on the makeshift midway set up in a parking lot of the ASU campus. Lights and bells ding and flash everywhere, adding to the white noise of people’s voices and laughter. The smells of popcorn and hotdogs waft through the evening air, and as much as I love hotdogs, the aroma is making me nauseous again.
I see lots of families have come out to join the fun and support the cause, too. I think of Rose and Logan, and imagine them strolling around this venue—Rose holding a balloon on a string. I miss her. With a sigh, I wonder what she’d think of having a new baby brother or sister to play with.
But she’ll probably never even know she has one.
“Hey!” I hear Alex shout as he wins at his game and waves Rochelle over to pick out her prize. They look so cute together, Roch and Alex; I envy their steady, fun-loving relationship. It seems so simple when you look at them. Why couldn’t all relationships be like that? Simple. Straightforward. Uncomplicated.
I glance over at Trent as he stands back from Alex, conceding his friend’s besting him at water pistols. Tall and tanned, he’ll be a good catch for somebody, someday. But not me. What college guy would want me now… damaged goods and with a “bun in the oven.” I’m hurting too much right now to even think about a man, any man, except the one who’s broken my heart and planted his seed in my womb.
I want to tell Rochelle that my drugstore test came up positive, tell her the whole miserable story that she claims to be so anxious to hear. She’ll be sorry she asked, but if I know my friend she’ll offer a big strong shoulder for me to cry on nevertheless. I couldn’t imagine us hanging out like this again, single and carefree. I might be single, but far from carefree.
“Looks like I’m the loser in this race,” Trent says, coming up alongside me. “C’mon. We’ll find another game I’m good at and win you an even bigger prize than Rochelle’s got.” He links his arm in mine and leads me further down the midway. “So I hear you’re practically a psychologist. I hope you don’t head shrink me before we have a chance to get to know each other better.”
I roll my eyes at his comment. Everyone thinks of you as a “shrink.” There are many more career pathways in the psychology field than people realize. “Actually, I plan to be a counselor after I finish my Masters. I won’t have a fancy office or a couch. I might even work with social services—helping people who need it most.”
“Mmm, too bad. I’d lie on your couch anytime, Dr. Quinn.” Trent laughs out loud. “Hey, wasn’t that a TV show? Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?”
I try to humor him and laugh politely, but I’m not very good company tonight. It’s not Trent’s fault. He seems a nice enough guy, but I have too much on my mind to pay him much attention.
“Hey, where are you two lovebirds going?” Rochelle shouts from behind. She and Alex catch up to us, Alex carrying the four-foot-tall stuffed giraffe that he’s won.
“Oh, just looking for another booth where I can demonstrate my gaming prowess for the brilliant Dr. Quinn here,” Trent answers.
“Uh, don’t hold your breath for a kewpie doll, Quinn. Most of Trent’s prowess gets demonstrated elsewhere,” Alex warns. “Like in the bedroom.”
Rochelle giggles hysterically. “Good luck with that, Trent. Our Quinnie would probably bring a textbook along to make sure you’re doing it right.”
I shoot my friend a withering glare. The only bedroom textbook I’ll ever need lives next door to me; and I’d give anything for another of his lessons, just to be near him again. But that’s not happening.
“I don’t need any prizes,” I say to Trent. “And I’ll take Alex’s word on your other talents. Honestly, the noise and lights are kinda getting to me. I think I’ll wander over to the kiddie section where things move a little slower, if you guys don’t mind.”
“I’ll go with you,” Trent says, his eyes lighting up.
“Great idea. You two go find a quiet spot where you can… talk,” Rochelle says, displaying a wicked grin. “We’ll be over at the beer tent when you want to find us. I think my giraffe is thirsty.” She directs her last statement toward Alex, still holding the giant plush monstrosity.
“Your wish is my command, my lady,” Alex says with a bow.
They waltz off arm in arm, and again I’m envious. I suggested the kiddie area because I wanted some time alone, thinking my companions wouldn’t want to go there. But now I have Trent tagging along, and I don’t have the heart or the energy to tell him to buzz off.
“You like kids, Quinn?” Trent asks.
My guts twist at his words, and I take a deep breath. “I do. I hope to have some of my own someday.”
“Me too,” he says. “But not for a long time. I’ve got big plans.”
Which can’t include me, Mr. High Roller. I see a carousel at the far end of the midway and move toward it through the crowd. It’s getting a little late for the young ones, so I expect the kiddie park to be relatively empty. As we get near the entrance, Trent stops at a booth selling funnel cakes and buys one with cinnamon and powdered sugar on top.
“Sweets for the sweet,” he says, breaking off a big chunk and offering it to me. The warm sugary aroma doesn’t bother me the way the greasy hot dogs did, so I toss my empty smoothie cup into the trash and take the piece of cake graciously. He’s trying to be so nice; I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
“Thanks,” I say, and take a bite, the lively calliope music growing louder as we stroll closer to the carousel. The light, fresh-fried cake melts in my mouth, and though I know I should be eating healthy, I can’t help but let out a groan of pleasure.
“Oh, my God, that’s good,” I mumble, my mouth still partially full. You didn’t have to worry about table manners at a carnival.
“Yeah, I never could resist a good funnel cake,” Trent says as we lean against a fence while devouring our treat and watch the painted ponies gallop in their never-ending circle. “Or a girl who appreciates them as much as I do.”
With his sly grin, thinly-concealed compliments, and his eyes reflecting the twinkle from the carnival lights strung overhead, I don’t need a psychology degree to know what he’s thinking, or what he’s hoping for before the night’s over. Since he lives out of town, and the chance of me seeing him again is remote, I find myself actually thinking about letting it play out. A smile, a hug, maybe a kiss or two… what harm could that do? I wouldn’t let it go farther than that. Anything to get my mind off my troubles, however briefly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say, returning his smile.
“Please do. Meant as such,” he replies, winking.
I swallow the last bites of my cake as he watches me and licks the sugar dust from his lips. They’re nice lips. He turns toward me and takes a step closer.
“Oops, you got a little there,” he says, reaching out and brushing the same powdery remnants from the corner of my mouth. “Can’t have such a pretty face covered up, even with sugar.” He glides his thumb back and forth over my candy-coated lips, and I’m locked into his dark gaze that seems to hypnotize me.
I can’t move as he leans in, cups my chin in his hand and kisses me, the cinnamon and sugar sealing our lips together in unexpected sweetness.