* * *
The third nightI sleep in my childhood bed at my parents’ house in Rapid City, South Dakota. They drove down and picked me up after I called and asked them for help. We hadn’t talked in years.
All of this thanks to the stranger who asked the right questions and listened when I most needed to be heard.
He’ll never know he changed my life.
But he did.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Past,1986
Chantal
I can’t denyit anymore. I thought I could.
But I can’t.
The first month I missed my period I knew it was due to stress.
The second month I missed my period I hoped it was due to stress.
The third month I missed my period Iprayedit was due to stress.
There are so many things I blame on the stress: my lack of patience, my short attention span, my inability to tolerate bullshit even in the smallest doses. I can no longer blame my missing periods on it too.
I’m pregnant.
I haven’t gone to a doctor.
I haven’t taken a test.
But I know.
I know.
I opened the door and let the revelation in this afternoon because I can’t ignore its incessant knocking anymore. I’ve been crying ever since. I told my grandma I needed to do our laundry and came down to the basement where I can be alone. No one in the building does laundry on Tuesday nights. During the past two hours, the roller coaster has taken me through a range of emotions, none of them helpful. All of them antagonistic and vengeful.
When I was twelve, my mom sat me down to have the dreaded birds and bees discussion. She made me promise that I would get my college degree, get married, and get pregnant in that order. She had dreams for me.Ihad dreams for me. I promised.
Now here I am feeling guilty on top of everything else.
And scared because not only am I letting my mom down, but I’m letting my grandma down too. In her eyes, I’m perfect. Always have been. If she finds out what really happened, she’ll never look at me the same way again. That would destroy me.
The washer is in the middle of its noisy spin cycle, so it’s not until he’s at the foot of the stairs that I see him, and it’s too late to wipe my eyes and try to compose myself. So much for hiding, I can’t even do that tonight.
Toby doesn’t talk much. I’ve always liked that about him. He pays attention and he listens. He figures people out. People who don’t know him think he’s detached and unfriendly, but if there’s ever an apocalypse, Toby is the first person I would pick to be on my team. Because he always has your back.
His hands are tucked deep in the pockets of his jeans and his eyes are tucked deep into the disheartenment permeating my being. He’s trying to school his features, but when his head tilts a few degrees to the right, concern siphons in. I don’t know how to explain it, but when Toby looks at you like this, you feel seen to the marrow of your bones.
I’m just realizing how much I need that right now.
He raises his eyebrows, and paired with the worry in his bright green eyes, he asks,Are you okay?without saying a word.
I can’t look at him when I answer, “I’m pregnant.”
He lowers himself to sit on the stairs and drops his face into his hands, scrubs it twice, and then raises it to catch me looking at him expectantly. I don’t know what I need him to say because there’s nothing that will make this better.
