Margie tells her, “My friends’ parents are treating me like their kids can catch what I have. Like I’ve got the plague or something.” I imagine that’s a common reaction, but I still can’t help but feel bad for her.
“I know you’ve missed a bit of school lately,” Allie says. “You are planning on going back, aren’t you?”
I feel the need to interject, “No matter what happens here, you should both at least get your high school degrees.”
Before the kids can respond, Allie surprises us all by announcing, “I just moved into my own apartment, Margie. It’s only a one-bedroom, but I would be happy to let you stay on my sleeper sofa until you know what your next step is.”
The teenager’s eyes bug out like she just saw a ghost. “You would seriously do that for me? Why?”
“Because I agree that you need some neutral space where you can think. I’d be happy to talk to your parents about it, too, if you want.”
Margie starts to full-on bawl. “That’s the most generous thing I’ve ever heard. Thank you! And yes, I would be very grateful to have a place to stay for a while.” She hurriedly adds, “I have five hundred dollars in savings that I could give to you as rent.”
“I don’t want your money,” Allie tells her.
“I’ll buy my own food then,” Margie insists.
“Honey.” Allie reaches out and touches Margie’s arm. “Keep your money. It sounds like you’re going to need it.”
Jordan, who has been relatively quiet during all of this, suddenly asks Margie, “What about putting the baby up for adoption? Have you considered that option?”
Margie turns toward her ex-boyfriend and her eyes narrow dangerously. When a woman looks at you like that, you know you’re in trouble. “I have not considered it,” she tells him.
At this point I probably would have left well enough alone, but Jordan seems to need an immediate answer. “Would you?”
“That would certainly make all of your problems go away, wouldn’t it?” There’s no question Margie is furious. In fact, she’s practically seething.
Jordan on the other hand, doesn’t seem as happy about the prospect of adoption as his ex-girlfriend is accusing him of. “Margie, this is my baby, too.”
“One that you want me to kill,” she hisses.
“I don’t think life starts this soon,” he tells her. “I mean, there’sno way the baby could live outside your body yet, so I don’t think of it as a real person. But if you’re determined to have it, why not give it to people who could raise it without any problems?”
“Just give a piece of myself away like I’m giving away a pair of shoes I don’t want anymore?” Margie does not appear to be onboard with the idea of adoption.
“If you keep this baby,” Jordan tells her, “then my life is over, too.”
“That’s not my fault, Jordan. You were there! You participated! You know how babies are made, don’t you?” She asks the last question like he’s a moron.
“It was one time.”
“That’s all it takes,” she tells him.
Now seems to be a good time to intervene, so I say, “I think that Allie is right and you two need a little space. Just take it day by day for a while and see what happens.”
“You mean see if I have a miscarriage,” Margie declares heatedly.
“That’s always possible,” Allie tells her. “But even if the baby stays healthy and things progress as they’re meant to, right now, you both need to breathe.” She makes eye contact with me before suggesting, “Why don’t we plan on all getting together two weeks from now. That gives you both some space to try to figure out what the future is going to look like.”
I don’t blame Jordan for feeling trapped, but even so, I’m surprised when he declares, “My future is totally in Margie’s hands. I have no say-so in what’s going to happen.”
That’s apparently the last straw for his ex because she stands up and practically shouts, “Quit being such a crybaby, Jordan. This isn’t happening to your body, it’s happening to mine. I’m the one throwing up. I’m the one kids are staring at like I’m a zombie. I’m the one parents don’t want in their houses anymore. You’re walking around scot-free, going to basketball practice and hanging out like nothing is wrong.”
The fight suddenly appears to seep out of Jordan like a leakingballoon. His shoulders sag and he slumps in his chair. “I’m sorry, Margie. I really am. I never wanted anything like this to happen.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have told me how much you loved me and that we were going to be together forever. If you hadn’t done that, you can be sure I never would have slept with you.”
When you’re a senior in high school, you think the world is your oyster. Anything can happen; everything good seems possible. Most kids who have sex at that age don’t have to face something like this. They simply keep growing up and moving on. But for the few who wind up pregnant, their worlds change to the point where they probably don’t even recognize themselves anymore.
