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Pam
The news hit my parents like a freight train. My weak and faltering words hung in the air like a thick cloud. I looked between mom and dad to gauge their reaction, but it was as though a curtain had been pulled down, covering what was behind their unblinking eyes. Mom’s knee buckled and she caught herself grabbing the edge of the couch for support. Then, with a hand pressed to her heart she whispered mournfully, “Oh, Pammy…”
Then I watched her tears slowly unleashed from her eyes, darkening the spot they trickled on her sweater. I kept my tears at bay, ignoring the burning in the back of my eyes. Silence reigned just before dad’s broken voice sent me to my room. And that’s where I’ve been for the last hour. I was not expecting this. Well, maybe a small fragment, but definitely not what I’d just witnessed. There was no lecture, no yelling, and no reprimand of any sorts. There were only tears.
A knock on my bedrooom door startles me out of my dazed state. I shoo away the tears from my own eyes with the inside sleeve of my sweater and say, “Come in.”
The door slowly cracks open by the smallest angle and I can see my sister’s blond hair as she pokes her head inside.
“What did you do?” She whispers.
“Not now, Penny.”
“You’re never leaving your room again,” she snickers.
“Can you leave, please?”
She sees that I am very serious and her brow furrows. Despite my plea, she carefully steps inside my room and pushes the door close behind her. She leans against it and lingers, watching me with a searching expression as I sit - still a bit stunned on my bed. She opens her mouth to say something, but no words come out. Then she tries again, “Mom was crying.”
“I know, Pen,” I say and watch my affirmation set worry in her eyes. “Mom will be okay, though,” I add, trying to diffuse her sudden uneasiness.
“Dad is totally upset too,” she says.
“I know,” I say. “They are going to be okay. I promise. They are just upset with me. That’s all.” But Penny’s not convinced. So instead on dragging this conversation forward I pipe up, “Isn’t your spring dance this Friday?”
“Yeah,” she says.
I pat the spot next to me on the bed and ask her, “Did you find a dress yesterday?”
“Nah…” She shakes her head, shuffling her feet towards me. I watch her climb on the bed and tuck her feet underneath herself. She begins telling me about her trip to the Mall and how mom was soooo lame.
I chuckle.
Penny and I are very different. You would never think we’re sisters. I have curly, reddish hair, my face is round and my skin is ghostly pale. Penny, on the other hand, has fair blond hair, her eyes are crystal blue, and her face is admirably modeled. Mom named her Penelope because it means “dream weaver,” which is also the title of her favorite Gary Wright song.
After Penny’s done telling me about her disastrous trip to the mall with mom, she goes silent for a short moment before she asks what’s been on her mind all along, “Pam, what did you do? Seriously. Did mom and dad catch you making out with Jim?” She says doing her best imitation of two people kissing. “I saw him leaving when Mrs. Kane dropped me off.”
Penny is twelve. Telling her the truth would open up a huge can of worms. I run my fingers through her silky hair and say, “No, mom and dad did not catch Jim and I kissing.” I stick my tongue out to lighten the mood.
“Does Jim know what you did?”
“You know what?” I say trying to redirect our conversation. “I can take you to the mall tomorrow.”
“You probably won’t be allowed out for the next month.”
We both laugh, although, she might be right. I don’t what the future holds for me. I haven’t really stopped to think about how my life will change. I still have trouble getting the idea wrapped around my head.
Just then there‘s knock on my door. This time I know who’s on the other side. I don’t even have the chance to say anything before my mom enters and shoos Penny out. Dad also walks in after mom, looking more composed than before. He pats Penny’s head affectionately when she squeezes past him out of the room.
Mom sits next to me on the bed. I reached for a pillow and hug it close to my chest. Dad closes the door and remains perched next to it. He looks uncomfortable, and he so seldom does, it makes me feel uncomfortable.
Mom pats me on my leg and says, “Does Jim’s parents know?”
I nod. “We told them, before we told you.”
“Have you given this any thought? Do you know what this you’ll do to your future? Do you understand what you have—”
“Helene,” dad interrupts.
My mom shakes her head, looks down at her hands, taking a minute to recompose. “Pammy, I don’t think you understand the gravity of this situation.”
“I do, mom.”
“You’re only seventeen,” she mutters to herself.
Dad clears his throat and says, “Your mom and I want you to think about your options…”
Options?
“…We are not going to force you to do anything that you don’t want. But we want you to think about the consequences that will follow your choices.”
"But please,” mom chimes in. “Are you thinking of…” she lets the sentence trail off. It is as if the words are chocking her. “Thinking of…” she repeats, but still doesn’t finish her thought.
After a moment I realize what she’s trying to say. “No,” I tell her because it’s what she wanted to hear. “I’m not getting rid of it.”
It.
It is approximately the size of a grape with eyes that are fully formed, tiny earlobes, a mouth, and a nose. I didn’t know about it until two weeks ago.
My mom heaves a sign of relief. “Good.”
I don’t tell her that the thought, however, did cross my mind and it still creeps up on me every now and again. Am I an awful person for thinking this could be a way out?
“Are you sure, you’re…” Dad says gesturing awkwardly towards my midsection.
“Yes.”
“…the tests can be wrong, ya know?” He adds.
“I um…I d-did… I…” I stammer. “I w-went to the clinic.”
“The clinic?” My mom scoffs.
“I wanted to be 100% sure before we told you.”
There’s a beat of silence before my mom asks, “How far along are you? Do you know?”
“9 weeks, I think.”
“Is um….” My mom begins, but she breaks just a little. “Is everything okay with the baby?”
I nod.
She smiles. It’s the first real smile I see, but it quickly fades away.
“Your dad and I are still trying to wrap this around our heads. I can’t think straight, Pammy. You have to know t-that…” My mom’s lips begin to tremble and she breaks into heart-wrenching sobs. I do too. I don’t want this. I don’t want it.
Mom pulls me to a hug. Instead of crying separately, we cried together. I look at dad and he is crying too. I feel so guilty. This is how the news of my soon-to-be child is received. No smiles, to celebratory outings, no congratulations. This baby is received with tears, broken-hearts, and resentment.
What a way to start.
My mom pulls away and wipes the tears from my cheeks with the pad of her thumb. “Oh, Pammy,” she says.
“I think we should call it a night,” Dad says, still perched on the side of the closed door. “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”
When mom doesn’t move, dad walks up to her and helps her stand. Dad pats my head, just like he had done with Penny, and says, “Goodnight, Pammy.”
“Good night, dad.”
Dad ushers mom out the door and closes the door behind him. I lie in bed curled up in the fetal position. I know my parents feel like they failed me. I heard snippets of their conversation earlier. But they are not to blame for this. The “talk” had worked and I had listened. We used protection. We were being responsible. I don’t know why this happened.
0.01% chance.
Here is the thing. I’m your typical good kid. I have good grades. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I volunteer at the Boys and Girl club. I’m on the volleyball team and the debate team. My facebook has exactly one picture and the last time I checked my twitter account I had seven followers. But most importantly, Jim is the only guy I’ve been with. He is my first real boyfriend.
Jim and I officially met sophomore year in English literature. I had known of him before. Unlike me, Jim’s in with the popular crowd. The Halpert name is actually well known in our school. Both of Jim’s older brothers were basketball stars and received full scholarships to play college ball. And Jim’s future seems to be headed in the same direction. Or at least it was.
So, that year in English class, we sat next to each other. The class was a total drag and we found ourselves commiserating our wretched fate. As the semester rolled on, we became friends. He had the tall and handsome thing going for him, so it wasn’t long before I began seeing him as more than a friend. But I knew I was out of his league. Jim dated cheerleaders like Katie and I was, at best, Katie’s redhead stepsister.
I don’t know how it happened, honestly, but he asked me to the sophomore ball. From then on, we’ve been going steady. He is very easy-going and is, by far, the most kind-hearted person I know. My parents loved him from the beginning and supported our relationship. Jim’s parents were also very kind to me and whenever I’m at his house, they always seem happy to see me.
We talked about how after High School we were going to college in New York. I was going to apply for the graphic designing program at the Pratt institute and he was going to play ball for Syracuse, while majoring in journalism. However, our plans are now slipping from our fingers and there isn’t any quick absorbing action to get it back under control.
I turn to the other side of the bed and snatch my phone from my book bag. Five missed calls. All from Jim. My finger hovers over the send button. Just when I’m about to press it, I hear a tiny click on my window. I look out the window and see Jim standing on my backyard. He’s done this twice before. It makes me feel like I’m in one of those 80’s flick.
I jerk the window open and the May breeze seeps into my room.I just gesture for him to come up and it takes him roughly two minutes to climb up to my window. I let him in and he quickly takes a potato chip bag from the inside of his jacket.
“French onion,” he whispers.
“Thanks.” I grab for it and begin to carefully open the bag.
“How are you?” He asks. “You didn’t answer your phone, so I had to take some drastic measures,” he says and smiles.
I offer him a tight lip smile. “I don’t know how I am,” I say, and it’s the truth. I don’t really know how I feel. “How are your parents taking all this?”
“Much like yours,” he says. “Mom was crying and looking at my baby pictures before I sneaked out.”
I sit back down on the bed and he sits across from me on the floor, leaning against the wall. “After you left dad sent me to my room. They came up to talk to me. I think they had a lecture prepared, but my mom just cried again.”
Jim shifts his lanky figure, uncomfortably, and after a beat of silence he says, “I meant what I said earlier.” When I don’t say anything he adds, “I’ll support you with whatever decision you make.”
“Even if it’s a hard decision?” I ask.
Jim nods and after a beat he says, “Pam, what are you thinking about? I can see the lines on your forehead furrowing.”
I look at Jim, seating on the floor on my room, with his legs oddly coiled in front on him. His eyes are pleading to hear what’s on my mind. But how do I tell him I think what we have made is a careless mistake and I’m pondering whether I should have it taken care of.
“Look,” Jim says standing up. “We both had a rough day today. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. If you want I will—”
“I think I want to get rid of it,” I blurt out. The words leave a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
I look at Jim and he looks as if he’d been hit in the head with a baseball. He shakes it off and says, “Oh um…My mom asked if we were thinking of that.”
“What did you tell her?” I ask. Jim’s parents are conservative Christians and the idea of ending a possible life is atrocious to them.
“I said we didn’t.”
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Pam, you have my full support on whatever you decide. I think, and please don’t get me wrong when I say this, but this is your decision to make.”
“It is a part of you too, ya know?”
Jim exhales and says, “I know. But I can’t force you to have this baby if you don’t want it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want it, Jim,” I say defensively. “I don’t think we are ready to parent someone!”
“Pam, that’s not what I meant,” he says with a bit of frustration in his tone. “I know we are not ready for this. That’s a given. But,” he says cautiously, “I feel my decision is somewhat irrelevant. I can’t ask you to get rid of the baby or keep the baby if you don’t want to. What I can do, and will do, is support you fully on whatever decision you make.”
“I...I feel…” The words are heavy on my tongue. “I feel awful for not wanting it, but when I think about it not being here I feel such a relief,” I say and a little bit of the load lift off my shoulders.
A sad smile appears on Jim’s face. He takes one step towards me and kisses the top of my head. “We don’t have to make this decision tonight.” He looks at his watch. “I should probably head home before my parents realize I’m missing.”
“Okay,” I say.
Jim bends down and this time plants a quick peck on my lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” I say.
Jim slips one foot out the window and before he leaves he says, “Goodnight, Beesly.”
“Goodnight.”
After I watch him pedal his bike down the street, lay on the bed and I take the bag of French Onion chips I had opened. I begin munching on it and I think of the baby eating it too inside of me. I think of it listening to the awful things I said today and a violent pang of guilt hits me.
Will I miss you, even though I haven’t met you?
Story Notes:
I thought of this idea a really long time ago. I put it to paper, but I never thought I would post it. I'm actually still super hesitant to do so. But I can't bear to see no new stories on MTT. So, this is me, putting myself out there. I hope those of you still lurking here like it.
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Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading. Let me know if you would like to see this continue.
