The Gift

She sought Paul out at school that afternoon. Graduation was in two weeks, and she knew it was wrong to put any pressure on him. It was as much her fault as his, or so she thought, but she couldn't forget what he'd told her.

She let him walk her slowly around the grounds of school, and they wound up on the bench behind the gym, where they had first met the night of the dance and then she told him.

Oh shit. You're not.” He let out a long, slow sigh, and looked desperately unhappy.

“I am. I'm sorry, Paul. I don't even know why I told you. I just thought you should know.” He nodded, unable to say much of anything for the moment.

“I'm getting married in six weeks. Debbie would kill me if she knew. I told her everything she heard about you were lies and rumors.”

“What did she hear?” Maribeth looked curious, intrigued that Debbie had heard anything about her.

“That I went out with you that night. Everyone we saw at Willie's told her. We had broken up. It was reasonable. I just told her it was no big deal, and it didn't mean anything.” But it hurt anyway to hear him say it. Debbie was the one who mattered to him. She wasn't.

“And did it mean anything?” Maribeth asked pointedly. She wanted to know. She had a right to know now. She was having his baby.

He looked at her thoughtfully for a time, and then nodded. “It meant something then. Maybe not as much as it should have, but it did. I thought you were terrific. But then Debbie hounded me all weekend, and she cried. She said I was treating her like dirt and cheating on her, and I owed her more than that after three years, so I said I'd marry her after graduation.”

“Is that what you want?” Maribeth asked, staring at him, wondering who he was, and what he really wanted. She didn't really think Debbie was it for him, and wondered if he knew that.

“I don't know what I want. But I do know I don't want a baby.”

“Neither do I.” She was sure of it. She wasn't sure she'd ever want one, but surely not now, and not with him. No matter how handsome he was, it was obvious to her as they sat there that he didn't love her. She didn't want to be forced into marriage with him, even if he agreed to it, which she was sure he wouldn't. But she didn't want a man who would lie about her, or pretend he had never gone out with her, or cared about her. She wanted someone, eventually, who would be proud to love her, and have her baby. Not somebody who had to be railroaded into a shotgun wedding.

“Why don't you get rid of it?” he asked softly, and Maribeth looked at him sadly.

“You mean, give it away?” That was what she was planning to do, and what the doctor had suggested.

“No. I mean have an abortion. I know a senior who did last year. I could ask around. Maybe I could scrounge up some money. It's really expensive.”

“No, I don't want to, Paul.” The doctor had discouraged her from exploring that avenue any further. And she was uncomfortable too, no matter how little she knew, that getting rid of it might be murder.

“Are you going to keep it?” he asked, sounding panicked. What was Debbie going to say? She'd kill him.

“No. I'm going to give it away,” she said. She had thought about it a lot. And it seemed like the only solution. The doctor says I can live with the nuns once it shows, and then give it to them, and they'll put it up for adoption.” And then she turned, and asked him a strange question. “Would you want to see it?” But he shook his head, and then turned away. He hated how she made him feel, inadequate and frightened, and angry. He knew that he was being less than he should to her. But he didn't have the guts to take this on with her. And he didn't want to lose Debbie.

“I'm sorry, Maribeth. I feel like such an S.O.B.” She Wanted to tell him that he was, but she couldn't. She wanted to say she understood, but she couldn't do that either, because she didn't. She didn't understand anything. What had happened to them, why they had done it, why she had gotten pregnant, and why he was going to be marrying Debbie instead of her, while she hid with the nuns and had his baby. It was all so out of control.

They sat in silence for a little while after that, and then he left, and she knew she'd never speak to him again. She only saw him once, the day before graduation, and he didn't say anything to her. He just looked at her, and then turned away, and she walked back across the campus alone, with tears streaming down her face, not wanting to have his baby. It was all so unfair, and she was feeling sicker every day.

The week after school let out, she was kneeling over the toilet one day, puking her brains out, and she had forgotten to lock the door, when her brother came in and saw her.

“Sorry, Sis …oh my God … are you sick?” Ryan looked instantly sorry for her, and then just as quickly a light dawned, and he stared as she vomited again and he understood. “Shit, you're pregnant.” It was a statement, not a question.