Three Weeks, Nine Months, A Lifetime

Part 2: Nine Months; Chapter 1

“Have you thought about adoption? Abortion?”

            I shrugged at my mother’s question, fiddling with the blanket on my bed. “Keeping the baby came up once,” I told her. “Matt’s coming back in less than two weeks. We’ll talk about it then.”

            “Tissa, you may have to make these decisions on your own. I just don’t want to see you expecting him to come up with a solution. Maybe you need to do a little more of the decision-making without him.”

            I sighed in frustration. “This is his baby too, Mom.”

            “And I understand that, but what if you wait two weeks and Matt doesn’t show? That’s two weeks wasted.”

            “God, Mom, he’s texted me everyday since he left. He’ll come.”

            My mom took a seat next to me on my bed and put her hand on mine. She looked absolutely sincere when she said, “I know that, Tissa. Yes, he will come. But you can never talk about these things too much. I just want you to know there are other options.”

            “Matt would want to keep the baby,” I said softly.

            “And you?”

            I looked up in Mom’s eyes, and I thought I would cry again. Instead, I took a deep breath and sighed. “I think we could make it work. Honestly, I do. But at the same time, I keep thinking about what would have happened if I wasn’t pregnant. And sometimes that trumps the side of me that wants the baby.”

            I would still be playing sports, for one. And I wouldn’t be so upset with Matt being so far away. I wouldn’t have to choose between keeping a baby while attending school or getting rid of him, or her. I wouldn’t have to choose.

            “Alright, sweetie,” Mom said. “But you know you can always talk to me.”

            I wasn’t sure how I felt about the transformation my mom had gone through. Actually, my dad too. They both seemed to take turns talking to me every second they were home. It was as if leaving me alone for one second could very well mean my water breaking without anyone nearby.

            And I was only about six weeks pregnant.

            “I know, Mom,” I said. “Thanks.”

            She stayed a few more seconds, looking at me, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say more, but finally, she seemed to think better of it and stood up, giving me a smile. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

            I nodded and picked up my history textbook, opening it to the page I had to read for homework. I still had ten more pages of notes to do, and I wanted to get it done before Paul drove me to Melissa’s house later.

            Almost like clockwork, though, my dad was coming in my room without bothering to knock. I barely stifled a sigh at the sight of him. He took Mom’s seat on my bed, looking at my textbook while I eyed him. He even seemed completely engrossed with it, even though he was attempting to read miniscule text upside down.

            “Hi Dad,” I said. He looked up at me. I smiled, not showing my teeth. “Did Mom send you?”

            He looked absolutely shocked at the question, but he shook his head. “Of course not. I’m just here to talk a little bit. Your mother and I travel so much that it’s hard to find time to talk to you children.”

            “I don’t see you bothering Paul this much.”

            “Well, Paul is nearly a grown man.”

            I laughed out loud, dropping my pencil. “A grown man? Really, Dad?” I shook my head in a dramatized apologetic manner. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t see it.”

            “He’s eighteen years old, Tissa.”

            I stared at my dad for a few seconds, and I couldn’t help but feel satisfaction at seeing his confusion multiply. “I still don’t see it,” I told him. “Mind elaborating?”

            “Your brother is responsible. He’s out now with the car running errands—“

            “Oh, is that what he told you?” I asked. And I probably shouldn’t have been disclosing my brother’s whereabouts—not that I knew them exactly, anyway—but he didn’t have to go through this!

            Dad scratched behind one of his ears, reminding me of a monkey. “That is what he told me, Tissa, and I don’t think you should be talking about your brother like he lied to me.”

            “No, you’re right. I’m sorry,” I said. I would have a word with Paul about this. “So why did you come here, Dad? Not that I don’t appreciate your company and all. It’s just, well, you normally don’t come into my room. Like, ever.”

            And then he looked uncomfortable. “I was concerned for your well being.”

            “You and Paul are so alike when it comes to trying to hide things from me,” I muttered.

            “What was that?”

            “Nothing.”

            My phone buzzed, and I picked it up. I had a message from Melissa: I hope you’re coming over soon. I need to talk to you! Urgent!

            I looked up, about to tell my dad I had to go, but he stopped me from standing up. “No, Tissa. We’re going to talk now. I don’t care if you have more important things to do. Now what I wanted to say was that you should consider other options—“

            “Mom did send you!” I shouted. Seeing my dad’s eyes widen, I leaned my head on my hands and lowered my voice. “Or, you know, you at least collaborated with each other, or else you wouldn’t be talking about the same thing.”

            “Like I said, we’re concerned about you.”

            “Yeah, everyone’s concerned. But sometimes, concernation needs to be set aside for another day, because, Dad, I know you’re only trying to help, but you and Mom are seriously crowding me, and I feel like I can’t breathe.”

            Dad had such puzzlement in his eyes that I wanted to laugh at him. Instead, I kept my face straight as if to say yes, Dad, ‘concernation’ is a word. Even though I was a dedicated enough reader to know that it wasn’t.

            “Will you at least consider those options?”

            “Yes, Dad! I already told Mom that. Seriously, what else am I supposed to do but consider the options? I’m just not going to be rash about this. And Matt’s in this with me. Let me have a chance to talk to him.”

            “Matt’s a nice boy,” Dad said.

            I smiled. “Exactly! So he should have a say, yes?”

            “Yes.”

            “Okay, good. I’m going to Melissa’s, and Paul should be home soon, so I need to get ready so I can leave immediately.”

            Dad was almost to the door before he stopped and turned around. “Mom had a chance to speak to you, and I want my turn too, so we’re talking when you get home.” And then he was walking out the door like a grumpy little boy.

            One week of this. Honestly. And two more before I could see Matt again.

            If I didn’t die from overbearing parents before then.