The Gift

She lay there, with her head resting on the toilet for a long time, and then finally she stood up, and he was still staring at her, his face devoid of sympathy, only filled with accusation. “Dad's going to kill you.”

“What makes you so sure I'm pregnant?” She tried to sound flip with him, but he knew her better.

”Who's the guy?”

“None of your business,” she said, feeling a wave of nausea sweep over her again, more out of nerves and terror.

“You'd better tell him to get out his good suit, or start running. Dad'll have his ass if he doesn't do right by you.

“Thanks for the advice' she said, and walked slowly out of the bathroom. But she knew now that her days were numbered. And she was right.

Ryan told her father that afternoon, and he came home in a rage and nearly tore off the door to her bedroom. She was lying there on the bed, while Noelle listened to records and did her nails. And he pulled Maribeth into the living room and shouted for her mother. Maribeth had been trying to think about how she was going to tell them, but now she didn't have to. Ryan had done it for her.

Her mother was already crying by the time she came out of her room, and Ryan looked grim, as though she had wronged him too. Her father had told Noelle to stay in their room. And he was like a raging bull as he stormed around the living room, telling Maribeth how she was just like her aunts, and had behaved like a whore, and dishonored them all. And then he demanded to know who had gotten her pregnant. But she was prepared for that. She didn't care what they did to her. She wasn't going to tell them.

She had thought Paul was dazzling and exciting, and she would have loved to fall in love with him, and have him want her. But he wasn't in love with her, and he was marrying someone else. She didn't want to start her life out like that, at sixteen, and ruin it completely. She'd rather have the baby, and give it away. And they couldn't force her to tell them.

“Who is he?” her father shouted at her again and again. I'm not letting you out of this room until you tell me.”

“Then we'll be here for a long time,” she said quietly. She had done so much thinking since she'd found out that even her father didn't scare her. Besides, the worst had happened now. She was pregnant. They knew. What more could they do to her?

“Why won't you tell us who he is? Is it a teacher? A kid? A married man? A priest? One of your brother's friends? Who is it?”

“It doesn't matter. He's not going to marry me,” she said calmly, surprised at her own strength in the eye of the hurricane that was her father.

“Why not?” he raged on.

“Because he doesn't love me, and I don't love him. It's as simple as that.”

“It doesn't sound simple to me,” her father said, sounding even angrier, while her mother cried and wrung her hands. Maribeth felt terrible as she looked at her. She hated hurting her mother. “It sounds like you were sleeping with some guy, and didn't even love him. That's about as rotten as you get. Even your aunts loved the men they slept with. They married them. They had decent lives, and legitimate children. And what are you going to do with this baby?”

“I don't know, Dad. I thought I'd put it up for adoption, unless …”

“Unless what? You think you're going to keep it here, and disgrace yourself and us? Over my dead body, and your mother's.” Her mother looked imploringly at her, begging her to undo this disaster, but there was no way for her to do that.

“I don't want to keep the baby, Dad,” she said sadly, as tears came to her eyes at last. “I'm sixteen, I can't give it anything, and I want a life too. I don't want to give up my life because I can't do anything for it. We both have a right to more than that.”

“How noble of you,” he said, furious with her beyond words. “It would have been nice if you could have been a little more noble before you took your pants off. Look at your brother, he plays around with lots of girls. He's never gotten anyone pregnant. Look at you, sixteen and your damn life is down the toilet.”

“It doesn't have to be that way, Dad. I can go to school with the nuns while I stay with them, and then go back to school in December, after I have the baby. I could go back after Christmas vacation. We could say I've been sick.”

“Really? And just who do you think would believe that? You think people won't talk? Everyone will know. You'll be a disgrace, and so will we. You'll be a disgrace to this whole family.”

“Then what do you want me to do, Dad?” she asked miserably, tears streaming down her face now. This was even harder than she'd thought it would be, and there were no easy solutions. “What do you want me to do? Die? I can't undo what I did. I don't know what to do. There's no way to make this better.” She was sobbing, but he looked unmoved. He looked icy.

“You'll just have to have the baby and put it up for adoption.”