Just Say No!

This is a story of a young girl who gets pregnant and does not face the truth of her actions.


Just Say No!

My memory sought that night like a tongue seeks the wound left by an extracted tooth. I cringed remembering.

I don't like chaos but I have trouble saying "no" which often results in some brouhaha. I definitely would never have agreed to that crazy dinner had I known the trouble it would cause. But I had to admit it wasn't the "dinner." You see, my best friend, Madison, never liked my boyfriend, Brad. Occasionally she would try to fix me up. Of course she never called it a fix-up. But since I made it clear that I wasn't interested, that I had a boyfriend, she finally gave up. This night I was the fourth for dinner. The third was her boyfriends' friend, Mitch. My radar was up but I ignored the signal. I told myself the night was just dinner.

I made sure there would be no mistaking the evening for a romantic rendezvous. I do like a joke now and then and I had an entrance planned that would be written about in dating "how-tos". I jelled my short blond hair into finger waves and excavated from the recesses of my closet a lime green turtle neck that would be perfect for my plan. I entered Madison’s apartment through the ajar backdoor, salivated at the garlicky lasagna aroma and stuck my nose into a pot of steaming artichokes.

Before entering the living room to meet Mitch, I inserted two huge inflated balloons into my sweater. I needed to take this show on the road. I slowly entered the room protruding my chest beyond the door frame, allowing my balloon boobs to make their appearance before I did.

"My God!" Madison said as she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

I looked at the only person I didn't know – Mitch – and he laughed so hard he lost balance and fell on the couch. Mitch didn't take his eyes off me for the remainder of the night. I think he fell in love with me despite my negative bra size.

After dinner, Madison suggested we all go out for a nightcap but I declined. Who could drink after lasagna? Mitch turned out to be cute in a self-deprecating, tousled-hair way and when he offered to walk me home, I accepted. He laughed at all my jokes so I invited him up for a nightcap. What's the harm? We talked for hours and as we started to wind down, he looked into my eyes and kissed me. My head spun and I wondered if it was alcohol. Our kissing gained momentum and Mitch peeled my clothes off in layers like the artichokes we had just eaten.

In the wee hours of the morning Mitch left adding softly, “I’ll call you later.” I was ashamed and embarrassed that I had done so little to stop an encounter with someone I didn’t know. I weakly waved trying to muster a smile. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

The following evening Brad came over even though I tried to talk him out of it. I had no desire to face him after the previous night’s escapade but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Again, my problem with no. I rehearsed a confessional speech but the evening progressed so smoothly that I abandoned it. What would I gain? He couldn’t guarantee absolution. The entire incident was best forgotten so I swept it under the rug never to think of or speak of it again. But fate dealt me different cards.


I could have avoided all that trouble if only I had remembered to take my birth control pills -- still looking for excuses. The real reason for the trouble was I made a big mistake.

Now as I sat in the waiting room, I bit my cuticles until they bled using my tear-sopped Kleenex as a tourniquet. I was filled with dread at what I was going to hear. I picked up People magazine hoping for a distraction. I felt like a rat in a maze, continually running into dead ends. What was I going to do? I had no good choices. Even Madison couldn’t advise me. I was on my own.

I prayed the array of pregnancy tests sitting on my bathroom sink were all defective, a hope that was unraveling like homemade baby booties. I kept looking down at my stomach to check if it had grown and my secret would be on the local news at 6:00. This was my problem. I wasn’t even telling Madison.

I glanced across the doctor’s beige office and spotted one of my best friends from high school, Barbara, whom I hadn’t seen in years. She apparently had moved back into town. Though we were inseparable then, I was in no mood to talk now. I offered her a halfhearted smile, praying she would see I was consumed by People. I tried to shrink but I saw her out of the corner of my eye as she approached me.

“What a small world!” Barbara exclaimed.

“Wow, how long has it been? Ten years?” I couldn’t come up with anything very clever. After all I was wallowing in my own problems and carrying a bloody Kleenex.

“At least. Julie, you look great though you are still too thin.”

Not for long, I thought and forced a laugh. “Are you having a baby?” I asked. She was grinning like a Cheshire. What else? When facing the dreaded stirrups, no woman smiles.

"Yes,” she gushed. “And I’m getting married soon.”

Why wait? I thought. I doubt that you are going to get less pregnant. “Who is the lucky father?” I asked to be polite.

“Brad. Do you remember him from high school?” Barbara asked me.

My heart stopped which slowed the blow flow to my cuticles. I had to concentrate on breathing. “Brad Dalton from our class?” I asked.

“Yes, he’s the one.” Barbara answered with a cavernous smile.

I heard the nurse call my name interrupting our conversation. Was I in an echo chamber? I shook my head trying to make sense of what I was hearing. Barbara's words tumbled in my brain like the colored squares of Rubik’s Cube. When they realigned, the realization of what I had just heard washed over me. Was she talking about my Brad? When was Brad going to tell me? I fought tears. My mind raced in a million directions as uncontrolled as nuclear fusion searching for excuses. My heart ached and perspiration popped out on my upper lip. I wanted to hurt Brad. Unfortunately, infidelity is a badge of honor to the male species. I opened my mouth to say something to Barbara but I couldn’t speak. Was this God’s retribution?


Barbara and I relived high school memories over the phone. She was the same ditz with the deer-in-the headlights expression. She was unintentionally funny and always kind. I remembered why we were inseparable.

She still had a germ phobia and carried a bottle of hand sanitizer and used it frequently. She also still liked doors closed. She was smart but I feared she could get lost in Macy's if left alone.

She suggested lunch a couple of times but I declined. I enjoyed our phone friendship but I didn't know how to tell her about Brad and me. I didn't want to hurt her but she was marrying him. And what if I was having Brad's baby? What was I to tell her? My excuses were getting as weak as a Rum and Coke after the ice melted.

She persisted and I finally agreed to lunch with Barbara. A big mistake. She begged me to attend her wedding. Waves of nausea overtook me and I saw spots in front of my eyes. I told her I would be out of town visiting a friend. Another weak Rum and Coke. I had no interesting seeing Brad.

But I had to do something.

I called Brad. “We need to talk,” I said.

"Do you have a cold?"

"Yes." I'd never admit that I'd been crying.

“I’ve been meaning to call you. I didn't know how to tell you but I’m seeing someone else.” Seeing? Is that what he calls it? He didn’t even have the courage to face me.

“You coward,” I said and hung up. I was robbed of the satisfaction of the scene I envisioned which, I admit, included him begging me for forgiveness. Just as well. I knew my anger would have melted into sobs at the sight of him. What would he do if he knew about the baby? My little omission was growing with my belly.

****

Barbara called me the day before the wedding to tell me her sister was in the hospital with food poisoning. She had no Maid of Honor. Through her tears, she insisted that she needed my support today of all days. I stammered excuses but finally agreed to attend. You already know my problem with no. My plan was to get through the ceremony and duck out the back. No bouquet tossing or cake cutting.

Mitch was my date and when I told him it was time to leave he didn't object. He waited downstairs while I retrieved my shawl. As I rounded the corner of the top step, I ran face to face into Brad. We were immobile. I hadn't talked to him since our truncated phone call and I guess he felt he had to say something. He stammered an apology for the way our relationship ended.

“That’s ancient history. I hope you’ll be happy.” I wanted him to see what he’d missed though any hope of a reunion had withered and dried like a bridesmaid-flower memento.

He stared at my face for a minute before pulling me into a nearby closet. I stumbled into him and he kissed me. Barbara's smiling face swam before my eyes and I wrenched free. “No way,” I said. I wasn't making that mistake again. Brad looked surprised as I pushed against the door, opened it and froze. Barbara took in the sight and summed it up instantly.

“You bitch,” she fumed. She slapped me across the face. I wanted her to do it again. Brad stumbled out of the closet and stammered, “I can explain.” Barbara turned away sobbing.

“Please, listen Barbara," I said.

“Go to hell.”

I managed to get to the bathroom and repair my makeup. I went downstairs to meet Mitch. I had to make amends but I had to clear my head first. I was so flustered that I hung my head and Mitch bent down to look at me. I felt like I was being x-rayed. My face burned from the slap, and then and there, I knew I would tell Mitch the truth. I exhaled and deflated like an untied balloon swooshing to the ground. My false hopes dissipated in the escaping air from my imaginary balloon. I had to talk to Barbara and Mitch.

After I tell Mitch that he is a possible candidate as the father, he might find another balloon-donning girlfriend. What did my omission do to Barbara? I would tell her the whole story – somehow.

With a baby coming and each passing day the reality of motherhood became more tangible. I realized abortion was not an option that I could live with. I was not too happy with my recent behavior and adding abortion to it would not help my self-image. I needed to face my behavior and make amends. I had turned a corner. Maybe I was ready for a new beginning and my new arrival. Things were going to change with or without Mitch or Brad. I looked up at Mitch as we interlocked arms. I had to talk to Mitch tonight. Was he was part of my future? I vowed to first get honest.

I had to dive in before my nerve shriveled like a three week-old umbilical cord. "Mitch, we have to talk. Sit down. There’s something I need to tell you.” Mitch scrunched his eyebrows together forming a black caterpillar. He knew something was up.

“Ok. What is it?" he asked. I was rigid, perspiring and my face burned. "Maybe you should sit," he said.

“There's only one way to say it - I’m pregnant.”

Mitch smiled cautiously. "Yes. There's only one way to say that. His grinned broadened like rising yeast bread. "That's great! He paused. Right?"

I didn't smile.

"I am the father, right?" Mitch asked.

"I'm not sure." I said.