Friday’s are roller-coaster days
“You’re pregnant.”
“No, it’s a mistake.” I said quickly. My head was still swirling, my mind was racing, and my limbs were tingling and aching. “Kendal’s not pregnant. They lost… she’s not pregnant.”
“Kendal?” Vincent asked in a surprised voice. “…And George?”
I tried to nod my head, but the doctor kept a secure hold of my chin, shining a flashlight into my eyes. “No, you’re pregnant.” The doctor repeated.
“Pregnant?” Vincent’s mom gasped. I still couldn’t remember her name, and I felt terrible about it. After all she’d done for me. After all the meals she’d cooked, all the times she’d come to see me swim at school for more support, after all the times she’d offered to do my laundry so I could spontaneously have sleepovers with Imogen, then after she went to live with her aunt, and I started dating Vincent, sleeping over with him – in separate beds, of course, not that it stopped us. Not that it ever stopped any teenage couple in love, and curious to explore. I remember, she’d done an awful lot for me, and yet my mind didn’t have the decency to tell me her name.
“Did you know about this?” Teddy asked Vincent quietly.
Vincent was bright red, and looking pale, almost as if he was going to faint himself. “N-no,” he stuttered. “I had no idea.”
“No, idea,” his mom hissed. “Really, Vincent? How could you both be so reckless?”
“Come on now, dear.”
“No, Teddy, I will not come on. Our son has got his girlfriend – a swimming scarlet, to add – pregnant, and you’re telling me to come on.”
“Mom,” Vincent snapped. “Just shut up a minute, will you. I need to think. Stop screaming in my ear.”
The doctor pursed his lips, but couldn’t speak because the family behind him began arguing amongst themselves. I was in Vincent’s living room, sitting on the sofa. Apparently, I’d fainted after telling the family about the basement, and they’d called a doctor to do some tests, because they wanted to make sure I was alright, and wanted to find out why I’d faint. I had thought it was because of the trauma of how I died, and having to tell the family about it, but it wasn’t. Obviously.
“You need to think!” she continued. “Well, you can think in your room, Mr. You are grounded. You’re not going anywhere. No parties. You’re coming straight home after school. Now get packing. They’re coming to sort out the basement in an hour, on an emergency call out, and you’re going to your aunts. Pack. Now.”
“Mom, I’m too old to be grounded.”
“You’re too young to be a father!”
The doctor cleared his throat. He looked weary, even though he seemed quite young. His dark black hair flew into his face many times, nearly hiding his eyes, which were screaming for them all to shut up, although he was too professional to say anything out loud. I sighed quietly, trying to take this all in. The doctor squeezed my hand reassuringly.
“Did you know about the pregnancy, Marisol?”
Everyone suddenly went quiet and stared at me intently. All their eyes were saying something else. The doctors were encouraging, telling me to tell the truth. Vincent’s were confused. He looked happy, even if he did look embarrassed. I quickly looked away. This couldn’t be happening. This gave him more to lose. Vincent’s mom was looking cross, and as if she was about to explode. Teddy, on the other hand, was the opposite to his wife. He frowned, but not as if he was angry, but worried. I didn’t want him to worry. This wouldn’t ruin his son’s life, or my career.
“No.” I answered honestly. I knew nothing of this, and thinking about it too, I hadn’t even realised that I was about three weeks late. I wasn’t showing – even when I wore my swimming costume – and I wasn’t thinking about my cycle – especially since this had happened. Every day leading up to the day I’d come to that party, here in Vincent’s house, I’d spent all my waking time training and swimming and practicing. Not just for the special meet, but just because I was that dedicated. I had just taken the wrong day off from swimming that was all. It was proven to be a big mistake.
But then, had I not died, had I lived, whether I’d gone to my meet or not, what would have happened? I was a star at swimming; I couldn’t have been pregnant right at the end of my high school career. I wouldn’t get a scholarship anywhere whilst I was carrying a child, and after that, I wouldn’t have all the time to dedicate to it, because I’d need to practice, and make up for being our of shape for nine months. Would I have even got a career, at all, in swimming? Would colleges shun me away and decline all my offers? Would – had I gone to my meet – my scholarship have been revoked, had they found out the truth? Vincent would have stayed with me, I think, but what about everything I had ever worked for? Everything I had ever wanted?
And Vincent – what would happen to him? He was wonderful, and a great man. He was kind and loving, I didn’t want him to have to give up his dreams, get a quick job, so he had money for rent. Not that it was going to happen. I had imagined that we would have a nice house together, with kids after we got married, after we’d had a career and a life. But I’d never get married or get my first house or have children. I’d never see this child be born. They’d died the day I’d died. We couldn’t try and stay alive, because we weren’t. At least I didn’t think we were alive anymore. I’d given up on that hope. I was just in a surreal world, waiting until my moment was ready to full pass, and be at peace, not living in any kind of reality.
“It’s going to be alright. Everything will be alright. We just need to sort this through.”
“Really, Ted?” Vincent’s mom said briskly, shooting a glare at her husband. I couldn’t remember how old they were; I couldn’t find it anywhere in the back of my brain. Were they young – were they in high school, college, fresh out of education? Just looking at the two of them now, Teddy’s concerned face, his wife biting her lip as she paced the room, they looked quite young still.
What would I have done? They question kept whirling around in my head. What would I have done, finding out about the pregnancy? Would I have kept it, and left my life behind to bring them up to have a normal, good one filled with love – although there was a possibility I was resent the fact my career in swimming was taken too soon, because of an unexpected baby – or would I have gotten rid of it, and put the thoughts of what I’d done to the back of my head every time I won a race, and a medal? Not that I wanted to do that. I didn’t believe that was the right thing to do.
And yet, I wasn’t face with this situation at all. It meant nothing to me, hearing that I was pregnant, apart from sadness and wonder. My baby died just like I did, that day, and I hadn’t even known it. They’d suffered the same ending as me, and their life hadn’t begun at all: they hadn’t loved anyone, or anything, yet. They hadn’t breathed. They’d been starved of oxygen when I went down and died inside of me. The wonder – about what I would have done – was driving me crazy and I didn’t want to think about it because I didn’t have to. Not really. This was beyond anything I could control. This was just another cruel poke, waking me up to realise how many paths my life could have took, before my life was taken from me.
But part of myself was twittering in my ear. What would I have done? What path would I have taken, now the possibilities had changed again? My life, after all, wasn’t just about me. Everyone I loved, hated, cared about, knew, was effected because of this. Heck, even people I didn’t know were effect because of my actions, and the ripple of actions I took and others took after each moment, each millisecond.
And here I was, pregnant, but dead. My sister, very much alive, had lost her baby and didn’t know how to deal with it. Why couldn’t it have been me, that suffered what she’d gone through, and she’d had a baby instead? What good was the gods – if there were any – keeping my baby and not hers? She was alive; she needed hers. She’d love hers, without a bad thought to have against it. Unlike me. I was still selfish, now, still wondering if I should have done what was right, or done what I wanted. Maybe that was why I was dead. Maybe I didn’t deserve to live, because I was contemplating someone else’s life – my baby’s. I wanted someone to love, unconditionally, didn’t I? I would have loved my child. Just like my mother and father love me. Family. It was the most important thing in life – it made life, didn’t it, worth living?
“How far?” Vincent asked.
The doctor shrugged. “It’s hard to tell exactly when without knowing Marisol’s menstrual cycle. I’ll have to talk to her on Monday, okay Marisol?” he turned back to me and nodded, and I copied him. “But she’s about—”
“Three weeks,” I responded. “I think.”
“Yes.”
“Right, well, we need to ring your mother.”
“No,” I said quickly. I wanted to stand up, but all the blood rushed to my head and I felt funny again. The doctor held onto my hands for support whilst the feeling went away. “I have my big race today. She doesn’t need to know from you.” I didn’t mean for it to sound harsh, really, but this was my life, and my mother would find out from me. In hour’s time, I’d wake up again, on the same day, and my mom and everyone here would have forgotten about it anyway.
Teddy cleared his throat. He saw, as well as I did, that his wife’s neck and cheeks were burning up. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out in the hallway, quickly shutting the door. They began talking, although not very quietly, about what was going to happen. Nothing was going to happen, I wanted to tell them, nothing at all. I was dead. In real life, you don’t know about this, this doesn’t affect you; you don’t need to have this discussion.
“Marisol,” the doctor said, packing away his things into his bag. It looked like a vintage British doctors bag, that doctors used to carry around in the baskets of their bikes to see their patients. “I don’t advise that you swim.”
“But she’s the best in the school,” Vincent defended.
The doctor smiled sadly as he pulled his hand through his hair. “I’m afraid it’s what’s best for the baby.”
“But she might get a scholarship from this!”
“It’s alright, Vincent,” I said quickly, patting the sofa so he could sit beside me. “Just sit with me.”
“You both have a lot to talk about,” the doctor said as he put his hand on the door. “I understand that you might be confused, or worried, or even scared, Marisol but don’t be, OK? Just come in at nine on Monday, I’ll make sure you’re all booked in. Don’t worry. We’ll talk this all through, and decide your options. There is more than one option here.”
“Thanks doctor,” Vincent said for the both of us.
“Take care. And don’t worry. Try not to stress.” As he walked back out of the door, I closed my eyes and squeezed my hands so hard that my nails dug into the palm of my skin. It didn’t hurt, though; I didn’t feel it, although I should have. I willed Vincent’s parent’s not to come back in. I wanted them to go into the kitchen, and have a cup of tea, so I didn’t have to hear my boyfriend’s mother shouting, they’re just children themselves.
Vincent put his arm around me and pulled me close. I breathed in his scent and closed my eyes as he hugged me. I was just so tired and overwhelmed and overworked about everything. I couldn’t concentrate on one thing long enough to try and work it all out, to try and work out anything. “I think I just aged about ten years in the space of an hour.”
I tried to laugh, but couldn’t muster it. I just felt bad, because for a few hours, until I died again, this was all going to be running around his head, frightening him, worrying him, until the day would vanish, as if it never happened, because it wasn’t happening to them. It was only happening to me. “You’ve missed track practice.”
“And you’ll miss swim practice.”
“Swimming was all I ever wanted to do,” I answered honestly. I could talk about swimming in the past tense with Vincent now, because swimming was part of my past – whether I was dead or had I lived – because of this baby. I wouldn’t have swum in the real world; I wouldn’t have gotten rid of it. My life, to an extent, would have been over already, but in a different sense would only just have been beginning again.
“I know,” Vincent said, kissing my forehead. It was a moment of intimacy, a moment of love, but not like the one that had gotten us into this predicament. Was this all a lesson; was this torture to teach me that I should have valued my life more, because I wasn’t just one person anymore? I shouldn’t have been so careless, so reckless, I should have kept track, and realised what was happening, how my body was changing. Noticing it now, my chest seemed to have a dull ache, constantly, although I thought that was just because my heart was breaking every time I thought about this situation I was in… about this big mess.
If I were alive, right now, I would have said what are we going to do? But I wasn’t, so I left the question out. I didn’t want to say it, knowing that it meant nothing now. A door slammed somewhere upstairs. I wondered if it was safe to be in this house, right now, but it must have been, otherwise we would have all been removed, advised over the phone by the specialist to leave the building. All they said was keep the basement’s door slammed shut.
“I spoke to my dad this morning.”
“You did?” Vincent responded, sounding surprised that I was changing the subject away from something so big, something so important. “Really? What did you talk about?”
“Lots of things,” I said, remembering how I’d told him over and over that I’d loved him, and said goodbye three times until I’d forced myself to put the phone down first. We’d talked about swimming, and how my grades were, and my graduation date so he could book it off work and come and see me. Most of it was about the future, most of it was things I didn’t want to talk about, because they were never going to happen, but it made him happy and I wanted to make my father happy, as well as proud, and now it seemed I wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. I wouldn’t be able to race and make him happy or proud. We talked about Kendal, too, and that he should come up and spend a day with her, and a separate day with Jowan, just some quality time together. They’d all need it, now, after my death. They all needed their loved ones to help them all through it, to lean on and find strength from. “But we mainly talked about swimming.”
“Don’t torture yourself, Marisol.”
It’s not me that’s torturing myself. I’m being tortured by life, generally. I’m being punished by something, and I don’t really understand it, but right now I just wished that I’d died, instead of it being dragged out, instead of this happening to me, over and over. It was one thing after another.
My life had taken different paths. I’d relived this day five times, and in all those times, my life hadn’t been exactly the same because I’d changed things, even if they were only little things. The little things mattered. It’s amazing to think about how many possibilities your life could be, how may billions of options you actually have, even when you don’t feel like you have any. It’s amazing, life, isn’t it? It’s cruel, cunning and beautiful. It’s precious, and has a time limit. It’s unpredictable, and spontaneous. It’s mysterious. It’s smart. And at times, many times like this, it’s unbearable because it tears you apart trying to think about the right thing to do, because in the end you have to make a choice. You always have to make some kind of choice, some move, and a sacrifice.
“I won’t,” I replied, realizing how long a beat I’d left it before replying. I looked up to see Vincent, with wide eyes, but I found it hard to see him. Something was clouding my vision, something that made my insides squirm. Vincent went from having back hair, to white light pushing it’s way in front of him, until I couldn’t see him anymore. I could only see a light. I thought it was the light. The light I’d heard about, on the telly and in supernatural books. I thought it was the light, leading me to the peace that I now wanted so much, so I could lay to rest, now I knew the truth. I was dead, and I wasn’t coming back. I should go into this light.
But then a light screeched into my ear, piercingly loud, and horrid. Just like that, a funny feeling took over me again but I wasn’t going to faint, it wasn’t that feeling. Although I’d had this feeling before, a couple of times, since I’d died. It felt like I was flying, but at a warped speed. It felt like I was being transported to another destination, and another world – but it wasn’t into the light I thought I was being promised. Everything was white and green again. Everything smelt clean and bleached. Everything was so bright that it hurt my eyes. Everything was blurry, though, and I didn’t understand why. Something made a noise, a beeping noise, beside me, but I couldn’t turn my head to look at it. And just like that, all the white was gone, the little green blobs had disappeared, and, suddenly, the lights when out.