No Tomorrow
“Yes,” I reply, but that’s not exactly true. There were those nights when Blue asked me to stay in the shed with him, and we snuggled, and talked, and made love all night. When I finally went home the next day, I either forgot to take the pill or skipped it because I didn’t know what else to do.
I take the cup from the nurse and gulp the cold water, flooding my throat and stomach, hoping to wash this all away. There must be a way to undo this and make it not so.
I’m smart. I’m responsible. I’m not the kind of girl who gets pregnant. That happens to other girls who aren’t careful.
That’s you now, Piper. A cow who got used and thrown away with a dog and a baby.
I stare into my empty paper cup. “Actually... I think there may have been a few times I forgot to take it.”
“It has to be taken every day to be effective.” Dr. Green flips through her notes in my folder and then glances back to me. “I’m going to assume you weren’t using condoms at the time?”
I shake my head, humiliation thrumming through my veins like acid.
“H-how far along am I?” I ask.
“Looks like just about ten weeks. We’ll schedule an ultrasound in two weeks and you can see your baby. You’re welcome to bring the father.”
“We’re not together anymore.” I tremble uncontrollably and burst into choking tears. The nurse hands me a box of tissues and I balance it on my lap. “He left….”
“Piper, I’m very sorry to hear that.”
Ten weeks. It’s been eight weeks since Blue left. During that time, I’ve prowled every park and train station in a hundred-mile radius trying to find him, to no avail. He could be anywhere by now.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do....” I sob, blotting my eyes with the scratchy tissue. “I don’t even know where he is.”
Dr. Green hands me a business card and several pamphlets with photos of pregnant teens and babies on them. “We have a counselor on staff. I think it would be good for you to talk with her about your decisions and choices.”
The words ricochet between my ears. Decisions and choices.
Somehow, just like that, my quiet, boring, little life is gone forever.
Chapter Sixteen
“It’s nice to have you home for dinner. We’ve only seen you twice since you moved out,” my mom says from behind the platter of ziti and meatballs in the center of the table.
“I’ve been really busy with work, I told you I started my new position as marketing assistant last week.”
“That’s terrific. Do you like it?”
I nod and swallow my food. “Yes, it’s been great. I even have a small office now.”
“Did you get a raise?” Courtney asks. She’s changed in the past month, and appears older to me, and less innocent. Her black hair is much shorter now, and she’s started to wear more make-up. I wonder if she’s dating someone, but I don’t want to ask about that when I’m about to drop a bomb on my parents.
“Yes.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “I was given a small raise.”
I take a sip of my iced tea and breathe in a deep breath. “I need to tell you all something… just please don’t freak out.”
My father puts his fork down in preparation. I probably shouldn’t have started this conversation in those words, but I just want to get this over with and go back to my apartment.
“Use the Band-Aid approach,” Ditra had advised. “Don’t do it slow and easy. Just rip it off and come right out with it.”
“I’m pregnant. A little over three months.”
My mother’s face pales to a porcelain white, and next to her, my father’s jaw clenches and he shoves his plate away, knocking it into his glass of water, which tips and spills. Courtney’s eyes bug out and she looks from me, to our mother, to our father, and back to me again. Waiting for a response. Just like I am.
I lick my lips nervously. “I’m going to keep it,” I throw into the silence. “I’ve talked to a counselor already and that’s what I’ve decided is best.”
“Piper.” My mother’s eyes are glistening with tears. “How could you let this happen?”
“I knew it,” my father says gruffly. “I knew something like this was going to happen.”
“It was an accident. I was on the pill but I forgot to take it a few times. I didn’t realize I could get pregnant so fast.”
My father slams his fist down hard on the table and we all jump. “You forgot?” he yells. “You forgot you were ruining your entire Goddamn life?”
Yes. I forgot because I was caught up in love and whispers and music and the sound of raindrops…
“A baby is a huge decision,” my mother says. “You’re only twenty-one. And what about the father? Are you back together? Does he want to be part of this baby’s life?”
My father shakes his head. “I don’t give a damn what he wants. You can bet your ass he’ll be paying child support.”
The counselor warned me my parents would react this way. That it’s a natural reaction to a surprise pregnancy. I absorb their emotions for a moment, let them expel their anger and shock, before I force myself to continue. “No. He doesn’t know.”
“You have to tell him. He’s just as responsible as you are.”
“I know, Mom. But I don’t know where he is.”
“Well then we’ll find him. We can hire a lawyer if we have to and garnish his paycheck for support. It happens all the time.”
If only life were that easy. If only Blue could be that easy. “I have no idea how to find him. I don’t even know his last name.”
“What?” my father roars. “How do you not know his last name? Is this the same guy you dated for months? The one we never even met?”
“Yes, Dad. I’ve never been with anyone else.”
“And you never thought to ask him his last name?” he asks incredulously. “Doesn’t that usually happen during a first conversation?”
The urge to cry and defend myself, to throw myself on the sword to defend Blue is strong, but I keep myself in check. “It’s complicated. Can we just forget about him? I’m going to have this baby on my own, without him.”
“Piper, this is very serious. You have to tell him, and we’re not going to just let him sail off into the sunset and leave you a single mother struggling with a baby.”
I play with my fork, my brain spinning for the right words.
“He’s homeless,” I finally reveal. “I don’t know his last name, or even if his first name is real. He doesn’t have a phone, or a job, or an address. Believe me, I tried to find him months ago. He’s just…gone. I didn’t know I was pregnant when he was still here. I’m sure if he knew, he would have stayed.”
“Tell me this is some kind of sick joke you and your sister made up,” my father says, glancing over at Courtney, who shakes her head vehemently.
“Dad, it’s not a joke. It’s all true.”
My mother leans her elbows on the table and buries her face in her hands. “This is completely crazy,” she mutters. “I don’t understand any of this. How did this happen?”
“I met him in the park. He’s a street musician.”
“So he’s a fucking derelict, probably running from the law. I’ll bet he’s a burn-out, too. That baby’s going to be born addicted to crack.”
“Daddy, that only happens if the mother is on crack. Sperm can’t be on drugs,” Courtney interjects.
“Go to your room!” he bellows.
“Dad—”
He points to the hallway and glares at her. “Go. Now.”
My sister gets up and makes a dramatic exit, slamming her door when she reaches her bedroom upstairs. I rub my hand across my throbbing forehead. “Can we please just calm down?” I beg softly. “This is already hard enough for me to deal with.”
My father is now pacing the room with a glass of scotch in his hand.
“You think this is hard?” he asks. “This is nothing. Wait until you have a little meth baby. Or AIDS. And how exactly are you planning on supporting a baby? Have you thought about any of this?” He downs the remainder of his scotch and goes to the cabinet to refill his glass. “I don’t understand you, Piper. You’ve always been different than your sisters. But having sex with homeless men? Your mother and I didn’t raise you to behave like this. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. You’ll never understand. He’s not a bad person just because he lives differently. And people can’t help who they fall in love with.”
“Yes they can, Piper. Respectable young women don’t let dirty homeless men put their hands on them. You throw them a dollar and you walk the other way. You don’t spread your Goddamn legs.”
“Bill, that’s enough. This is our daughter, and that’s our grandchild.”
My father puts his hand up, his face twisted with disgust. “No. This isn’t my daughter. My daughter—the little girl I raised—wouldn’t lower herself to such filthy behavior. I don’t know who the hell this person is.” He slams his glass down on the dinner table. “I’m going out. I can’t even be under the same roof with her.”