The Center

Chapter 37 - "void all entanglements.

I wander through The Center chomping on crackers and sipping water and trying to grasp my condition. Not just my pregnancy, but the different interactions I've had with the inmates I arrived with. It's more clear than ever that Fisher and I are cut from the same cloth. Obvious even. Our behavior from the beginning was the same. On the bus we threatened each other. Mario and Dee Dee were repentant. Not us. I always whine about wanting love, but never once have I thought about giving it. And now I'm going to have a baby.

I'm so confused.

There's only one person I have always been able to talk things through with, but that would mean calling New York. I exhale. I shouldn't really stay mad at him, besides I needed to talk to him. I want him to help me decide.

But how's he going to respond when he finds out I'm pregnant? I put my hands on the ground and stand up. My bottom is wet, but I don't care. Obviously people are already talking about me, might as well give them another reason. I'm going to do it. I'm going to call Uncle John even if I don't mention the baby this time.

I peek around the corner, just to make sure Dee Dee and the dreadlock hag are gone. Seeing the clear forest, I hike my way back to the orientation building where everything started. I have ignored all Uncle John's calls and letters, but maybe Dee Dee's kindness is contagious.

Inside, Rowena sits at the desk barely looking up when I come in. "How can I help you?"

"I'd like to make a call."

"You're not on the schedule."

I hold back my attitude. If I'm going to change, this woman would be a rough place to start, but I try it anyway. "I really need to call."

"Not today."

"Come on, I've only called home once."

"That was your choice." She leans back in her chair.

"I know, but I've changed my mind."

"Congratulations." She taps a couple things into her handheld. "I'll put you down for a week from Wednesday."

"10 days?" Was she kidding? It shouldn't really matter, but I can't help but think she's doing this on purpose. Being nice to this person was impossible. "I need to talk to my uncle today."

"Really?" She sets down her electronic device and folds her fingers into a single fist on the table in front of her.

"Can't you bend the rules this one time?" I hate to beg her, but I'm terrified this place will make me change my mind. Make me go back to ignoring friends and family.

She stares at me and then smiles. "I see, sure." She taps a couple things into her screen and then turns it to face me. "You choose." She smiles and points to the calendar. "Which of these inmates should I bump for you? Which name?" She raises her eyebrows. "Huh?"

I swallow. Guilty again. Even when I believe I'm doing something for someone else, I'm really doing it for me. My selfishness is tattooed to my heart. Forever stomping on other people. I stand up and walk away. Rowena won, and to be honest, she should have. I'm not Dorothy in this crazy story, instead I'm the witch that needs to be melted or crushed by a house.

"Courtney," Rowena calls to me as I get close to the exit. "There is a package here for you."

I turn to see her smug face. To my credit, I don't even feel the desire to spit in it. I accept the flat box and carry it to the privacy of my dorm room.

Packing tape covers the perforated tab I could have pulled if the box hadn't already been opened. The guards probably maul everything that comes up the mountain. No big. Like the stink of other people's sweat, while the scent didn't fade, my nose gave up fighting it. I'm used to it all. The used uniforms. The shared bathrooms. The lack of privacy.

I dump the contents of the rectangular box onto the small desk in my room. The dusty smell of paper falls out with some photos. Bound in bubble wrap is a thick book. I recognize the cover. This is the album Uncle John keeps in his Manhattan apartment. I flip open the front page and face my entrance into the world. My mother lay in the bed behind me, a rare smile on her face. My uncle wore a blue, paper top over his suit. He wasn't looking at the camera, he was looking at baby me. The smile on his face wasn't rare.

A pang stabs into my side near my heart. I've been too hard on him. I rub my baby bump as I flip through the memories. Forever absent in the fun is my father. And not because this is Uncle John's album. There aren't many pictures of me and my father in the world. A few forced family portraits taken for display, but nothing casual like the one of me and Uncle John covered in birthday cake.

I press my lips together. I will wait 10 days and then apologize to the one member of my family who's always shown me love. I should never have avoided him. I will tell him about the baby. The idea scares the mess out of me. He might be disappointed. He might be cool with it and help me wrap my mind around the situation. The only baby I've ever had contact with is my little sister. But this kid would be better than that. Right? This baby would be mine. Born to love me. Born to be on my side.

It isn't a ton of bricks, but I feel the weight of the idea.

Someone totally mine.

Someone I can love and love right.

The page in my hand feels sweaty. This is my new beginning. The thought that formerly made me cringe crawls into my heart and curls up. A kid for me. I rub my belly bump again. Uncle John will know, but my parents and Kat will never come close to my child. I'll never go back to the posh house in Virginia. My child will be spared the cold love I grew up hoarding.

I'm going to keep my baby.