I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as the terror of that time came back in a rush.
“What did you do?” Trevor whispered when I didn’t go on.
“I ignored it at first,” I said, my eyes still closed. “Maybe I was hoping it would go away, maybe I was hoping for a miracle. I don’t know. I just know that eventually my mom noticed something was wrong. I guess she’d been paying more attention than I thought.” I took a deep breath, blew it out, then opened my eyes and focused on Trevor. “One day she asked me about itoutright, and I told her everything. About Michael and feeling so alone, about how I’d gone to him for comfort. She’d started crying, telling me she was sorry, that she’d take care of things, that she would make it up to me. She promised she’d figure out what to do. That night she bought the test, falsifying the document she had to sign and claiming it was for herself. When it came back positive, she went into action.
“I think the whole thing snapped her out of it. Made her realize she had a hell of a lot more to lose than just my dad. Anyway, I have no clue who she asked or how it all worked, but somehow, she found a place and got the money together so I could go. They gave us a few options. I could stay for the duration of the pregnancy and have the baby. If I wanted to keep it, they would falsify the records saying my mother was the one who’d given birth. If I didn’t, they would find it a home.” Trevor’s eyes were so intent on mine that I had to look away before I said the next words because even though I knew Trevor wouldn’t judge me, I also knew how morally abhorrent most people found the whole thing. “Or, if I chose, I could end it. The decision was easy.”
Trevor sucked in a breath, and I braced myself for his rebuke, but when he’d exhaled, all he said was, “I’m so sorry, Ara. Sorry you went through that and I couldn’t be there for you. Sorry you never thought you could tell me.”
“The secret was too dangerous,” I said, thinking about the stories I’d heard of family members going to jail for keeping quiet. When I spoke again, my voice came out so low even I barely heard the words. “I wanted to protect you.”
“I know,” Trevor whispered.
I once again focused on him. “Did you? Know, I mean. It kind of seems like you did.”
“I suspected.” He pushed his glasses up so he could pinch the bridge of his nose, something he did when he was stressed. “I mean, you went to California to visit an aunt I’d never heard of. Plus, it wasn’t like your mom was swimming in money. I thought, maybe, something was going on, but it wasn’t until the last few years that I really started to wonder. With your twenty-sixthbirthday looming and the whole Fertility Act thing, and how you were so adamant about never wanting to have kids, it wasn’t too hard to put the puzzle pieces together.”
“You know me too well,” I said, giving him a shaky smile.
“That’s because I’m your best friend.” His expression was uncertain. “I’m sorry you have to go through all this, and I don’t want you to have to dwell on it or to add stress to your life, but I have to ask. Will the doctors be able to tell? That you’ve had an – ” He hesitated as if saying the word wasn’t easy. “Abortion.”
“No. The people in the underground assured me it wasn’t possible. Even if I’d chosen to have the baby, they would have done a c-section then falsified my medical records, making it look like the scar was from a car accident or some other emergency surgery. They were careful to cover their tracks and to protect me from any future suspicions.”
Trevor let out a relieved breath. “Good.”
Everything I’d told him was true, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t worried. What if the doctors in the underground had been wrong about no one being able to tell? I could lie. Say I got pregnant when I was a teenager but claim I’d had a miscarriage before I’d had a chance to tell anyone. It was something I would try before admitting the truth, and it might work, but there was a chance it wouldn’t. What then? I would go to jail. Forever, probably.
As if the same worries were going through his head, Trevor watched me closely as he sipped his wine. He said nothing, but I knew him as well as he knew me and could read the concern in his eyes. Since there was nothing I could do about it – and it was my birthday – I decided to focus on the now. Trevor had planned a party, had invited friends, and with only ten days left before I had to hand my body over to the government, I was determined to enjoy today. Whatever happened next would happen no matter what I did, so there was no point in dwelling on it.
Nine
The days following my birthday went by in a blur. I worked, hung out with Trevor, and drank as much wine as I could – probably a little too much – and did everything in my power to avoid thinking about how much my life was going to change when June first came. Not an easy feat considering the multiple tests I had to endure. From bloodwork to an internal ultrasound to check my ovaries – the tech didn’t even blink, which gave me hope that my past wouldn’t be revealed – to going over the thick stack of reading material I’d been given. I did everything required of me, although not with a good attitude. That would have been asking too much.
As if trying to make time stand still, I stayed up later than normal. It was an exercise in futility because there was nothing I could do to stop the dreaded date from coming, but logic was a tricky thing and it was easy to fool yourself when you were desperate. And desperate I was. Desperate to put the next part off, to have the whole thing fail, to get it over with so I could get back to my life. I didn’t know what to hope for or how to prepare; I just knew everything was about to change and that I no longer had any say in my life.
Of course, there was nothing I could do to stop June first from rolling around, and the shrill buzz of my phone’s alarm ripped me from sleep at seven o’clock on the dreaded morning. Only four hours had passed since I’d forced myself to turn in, andI was groggy and not at all ready to get up.
My eyes still closed, I slapped the nightstand until I located my phone, then poked my finger against the screen, hoping to find the snooze button. My head was swimming, and not just from lack of sleep. Trevor and I had decided to have a pre-program bar hop the night before, and my entire body hurt while my stomach was threatening to expel everything I’d had to eat and drink. Which, although I couldn’t remember all of it, had been a lot.
After about three pokes at my phone’s screen, my alarm cut off, and I let out a sigh of relief. I hadn’t even cracked an eye.
Beside me, the bed shifted, and Trevor groaned. “Why are you getting up so early, again?”
I massaged my temples. “To get it over with.”
“Right.” He exhaled, made a sound that could have been either gagging or grunting, and said, “I feel like I was hit by a truck.”
“A tequila truck,” I corrected.
“Yes.”
We lay side by side in silence before the bed once again shifted. The noises he let out made it seem like it took him a lot of effort to move, but then he was beside me, pulling me into an embrace that was comforting despite the stale alcohol breath that wafted over me every time he exhaled.
“You are amazing,” he began, “and resilient. You will get through this in one piece and come out of it stronger.”
“How do you know?” I whispered.
“Because you have to.”
