The Gift

“I am proud of him,” she said, distracted by her rush to get back to school, but on her way home later she thought about his comment again, and wondered if he'd run into Tommy somewhere. Maybe he had taught a class at school, or had a child in Tommy's class, and then she forgot about it.

But the following week, one of her colleagues said they had seen Tommy with a remarkably pretty girl, and casually mentioned that the girl looked extremely pregnant.

She was horrified when she heard about it, and then with a rush of terror, remembered Dr. MacLean's unexpected praise of Tommy. She thought about it all afternoon, and then decided to ask Tommy about it that night. But he didn't even come home until after midnight.

“Where have you been?” his mother asked in stern tones when he got in. She had been waiting up for him in the kitchen.

“Studying with some friends,” he answered, looking nervous.

“What friends?” She knew almost all of them, particularly now that she was teaching at the high school. “Who? I want to know their names.”

“Why?” Tommy suddenly looked very guarded, and when his father came into the room, he saw an odd look pass between his parents. The hostility between them had lessened a little bit since his mother had gone back to work, but the distance seemed greater than ever. Liz had said nothing to John about the girl someone had seen Tommy with, but he had heard them talking, and wondered what was going on. Lately, he had been increasingly aware of the fact that Tommy was literally never home, and coming home very late in the evening.

“What's up?” he asked Liz, not really looking worried. Tommy was a good boy, and he had never gotten into trouble. Maybe he had a girlfriend.

“I've been hearing some strange things about Tommy,” his mother said, looking concerned, “and I want to hear from him about it.” But as he looked at her, Tommy knew that she knew something.

'What kind of 'strange things?” John asked. It didn't sound like Tommy.

“Who's the girl you've been seeing?” his mother asked him bluntly, as his father sat down and watched them.

“Just a friend. No one special.” But it was a lie, and she sensed that. Maribeth was more than a friend to him. He was head over heels in love with her, trying to help her keep up with school, and deeply concerned about her baby.

But his mother didn't pull any punches. “Is she pregnant?” He looked as though she had leveled a blow to his diaphragm and his father looked as though he was going to fall out of his chair, as Liz stared at Tommy in the silence. “Well, is she?”

“I … no … I … gee, Mom … I don't know … I didn't …well … oh God …,” he agonized as he ran a hand through his hair and looked panicked. “I can explain. It's not what it looks like.”

“She's just fat?” his father asked hopefully, and Tommy looked rueful.

“Not exactly.”

“Oh my God,” his mother whispered.

“You'd better sit down,” John said to him, and Tommy sank into a chair, as Liz continued to stand and stare at him in horror.

“I can't believe this,” she said, in anguished tones. “She's pregnant …Tommy, what have you been doing?”

“I haven't been doing anything. We're just friends.

I … all right …we're more than that …but … oh Mom …you'd like her.”

Oh my God' his mother said again, and this time she sat down. “Who is she? And how did this happen?”

“The usual way, I guess,” Tommy added, looking bleak. “Her name is Maribeth. I met her this summer.”

“Why didn't you tell us?” But how could he tell them anything? They never talked to him anymore, or each other. Their family life had ended when Annie died, now they just drifted, like flotsam on a lonely ocean. “How pregnant is she?” his mother asked, as though that would make a difference.

“Six and a half months,” he said calmly. Maybe it was better that they knew after all. He had wanted to ask his mother to help her for a long time, and he had always thought she would like her. But now Liz looked even more horrified.

“Six and a half months? When did this start?” She tried desperately to count backwards, and was too upset to do it.

“When did what start?” Tommy looked confused. “I told you, I met her this summer. She only moved here in June. She works at a restaurant I go to.”

“When do you go to a restaurant?” His father looked even more confused than his mother.

“Lots of times. Mom never cooks anymore. She hasn't in months. I use some of my paper money to pay for dinner.”

“That's nice,” his father said tartly, glaring at his wife reproachfully, and then at his son again, in confusion. “How old is this girl?”

“Sixteen.”