SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF INTERSTATE I-90 WEST, 6 YEARS AGO
What people don't tell you is that babies come with the answers. You spend the latter half of your pregnancy worrying, obsessing, jumping to the worst-case scenario. But when that baby comes out and looks into your eyes, they tell you who you are.
Right now, I have all the answers. Sitting in the back of a Greyhound bus in the middle of the interstate, blue and red ambulance lights flashing from outside, nothing is right. Yet somehow, everything is.
At six months along, babies start dreaming. Inside me, my son had thoughts and emotions. Before he came into this world, he was a person. A person who was mine only, a life I kept hidden from everyone who knew me, everyone who loved me.
And at eight months along, I packed what I could in a backpack, bought a bus ticket, and left. Just the two of us, he and I, in the backseat of a Greyhound bus headed far away from everything I'd ever known. Everything he would never know.
He'll never see the scornful looks from my family or the members of my church. He'll never hear the whispers behind our backs. He'll never think he's anything less than a miracle, and he will always know how much I love him.
But he will also never know the loving arms of his father as I knew them.
I look down into my newborn son's face now, stroking his cheek with the pad of my pointer finger. He is easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. All babies are beautiful, but he is mine and Jackson's beautiful. And that is something special.
The thought that crosses my mind as I look at him is: I'm at the beginning of my journey, the one that means something. The one that will define me. But I know this journey, the one my son started, began a long time ago. I know, because I was there. And somebody else was there, too. Somebody really good.
I press a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling a tear slide down my cheek. "Hi, little angel," I whisper, voice soft so only he can hear. "I'm your mom."
…
MOLINE, OHIO - 7 YEARS AGO
I'm a cheerleader. Jackson is the star quarterback of our high school team, the Hawks, and I'm the tiniest on my team, which means I'm the flyer.
Things are perfect between us, and they have been for a long time. We were best friends our freshmen and sophomore years of high school, started dating early in our junior year. We lost our virginities to each other the August before senior year started.
Of course, my family knows nothing about this. They don't even think I look at boys, let alone have a boyfriend. Let alone get into bed with a boy.
But Jackson isn't just any boy. I'm in love; I feel more for him than I've ever felt for anything in my life preceding. He means the world to me - he is my world.
The beginning of our senior year was picturesque. The football games are something out of a teen movie. All the students, loud in the stands. Cheerleaders on the track, shouting at the top of our lungs. We're all here for the same reason: to watch my boyfriend beat the pants off our rival school.
My cheeks are flushed as I watch him sprint across the field, football cradled under his arm as he keeps it safe from opponents rushing by.
"Ready? Okay!" my squad shouts, then we all shake our pompoms. "We've got a team that's backed by pride, there must be some Hawks on our side! Stand up and yell for victory tonight, come on Hawks, fight, fight, fight!"
After we're done with the cheer, we all hoop and holler and kick our legs high in the air as the noise from the audience gets louder behind us.
I keep my eyes on Jackson, who's almost the end-zone before he gets tackled. He's at the bottom of a three-person pile, and I can't help but stand on my tiptoes, wearing a concerned expression.
I press my pompoms together and wait for him to get up, and he eventually does. I let out a long breath as I watch the ref pull him to his feet. They exchange words, Jackson shakes his head, but the ref is adamant as he walks him to the sideline.
When he reaches the bench, I glance over my shoulder at my friends on the squad, Lexie and Teddy, and they urge me on. They're the only two people in this world I've ever talked to about mine and Jackson's relationship.
I trot over to the bench, where Jackson has one leg elevated with an ice pack on his knee, slugging down so much water that his Adam's apple bobs dramatically.
"Are you okay?" I ask, leaning forward with my hands on the backrest.
He opens his eyes and stops drinking when he sees me. "Baby," he says. "Hey. Yeah, I'm fine. I should still be out there, stupid ref made me sit out."
"You shouldn't push yourself if you're hurt," I say.
"I'm fine," he says, then beckons me forward with one finger. "C'mere."
"What?"
"Just come here. You have something on your face."
"What?" I say. "Do I, really?"
"Come here and I'll get it," he says, and I lean towards him. He holds my chin with his thumb and pointer finger, then kisses me quickly. "Got it."
"Jackson," I say, eyes wide. "My sister's in the bleachers."
"She's with the band, we're fine," he says. "It's not illegal for me to kiss my girl. I'm hurt. A kiss makes everything better."
I blush, about to say something in response when I hear my name being called from the track.
"Gotta go," I say, then turn to leave.
He grabs me by the wrist before I can get far, though. "Meet me after," he says. "In the school, by the locker rooms. Just real quick."
I bite my lower lip, raising my eyebrows desperately. "Real quick," I say.
"Promise," he says.
"Okay," I say, then he lets go. I run back to join the squad, fluffing my pompoms as I go.
When the game is over, I tell my sister, Kimmie, that I forgot something inside the school and will meet her in the parking lot. I walk inside, tennis shoes squeaking against the tile floor, as I make my way towards the gym where the locker rooms are.
Before I get there, though, I feel arms around my waist that lift me into the air. I squeal with delight, bending my legs and holding onto Jackson's wrists as he spins and deposits me with my back resting against a locker.
"Got you," he murmurs, his face nearing mine.
"You scared me," I say.
Our foreheads rest against each other and I can smell the sweat on him, a scent I'm very used to. I can still see it in beads on his forehead, but dry everywhere else on his face as he gets even closer to me.
"I couldn't let you leave without kissing you," he says.
"I know," I say, looping my arms around his neck and touching the tip of my nose to his. "I always know why you wanna get me alone."
He holds my hips in his hands and smiles, nudging my nose a bit as our lips barely touch.
"How's your knee?" I ask.
"Forget about my knee," he says, then kisses me.
I smile against his lips and breathe deeply, melding my mouth against his as he moves. His hands trail higher, up to rest around my ribcage where he squeezes softly.
"You taste like cherry," he says.
"Lip gloss," I say, giggling. "You're gonna be wearing it after this."
He smirks. "Small price to pay."
He situates his hand at the base of my skull and runs his fingers through my hair, messing up the perfectly-done curls. With my eyes closed, I run my tongue along the seam of his lips and he parts them for me, welcoming it inside. He touches it with his own and sends a shock up my spine, making me shudder. We've been kissing like this for plenty of months, but I don't think I'll ever get used to the way he makes me feel.
"Mm…" I moan, as he tugs my hips flush against his. "I have to… I have to go."
"No…" he groans.
"My sister," I say, pulling away and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "If I don't meet her, she's gonna call the police or something equally crazy." I bat my eyelashes. "But I'll try to sneak out tomorrow. Meet at your house? We can hang out for the afternoon?"
He smiles, winding his arms around me again to squeeze two handfuls of my butt. "Sounds perfect," he says.
I twirl away after giving him one last, chaste kiss. "I love you," I say, waving as I walk backwards out of the hallway. "You played awesome today."
"I love you more," he calls after me, leaning with his shoulder against the lockers. "Couldn't have done it without you cheering for me."
I skip to the parking lot with a big, goofy grin plastered on my face, a blush on my cheeks that Jackson always gives me. I make it to the car, which I can see Kimmie leaning against, and unlock it with the key-fob.
"Took you long enough," she grumbles. "Where were you? I looked all over."
"I left something in the locker room," I say, sliding into the driver's seat.
She eyes me as she sits down and buckles in. "What?"
I look at myself, not carrying anything except the small purse I always have slung across my chest. "My Chapstick," I cover quickly, patting the bag.
Kimmie gives me another suspicious look, but doesn't push.
We get home and find all the lights off in the house, our family having already gone to bed. I expected as much, and we don't speak as we walk inside and head to our different rooms. My eyes drift over the religious memorabilia lining the walls, substituting where, in a normal home, school pictures from years' past would be. But not in our house. In our house, along the walls in the hallway are crucifixes, portraits of Jesus, and cross-stitched verses.
All thanks to my mother, of course. My father is a pastor. My mother practically runs our church. I was raised extremely devout, but all that changed when I met Jackson. Loving him turned me into someone my parents could never begin to understand.
When we go off to college, everything will be different. We won't have to hide. We can just be us, out in the open, without worrying what kind of repercussions will come back and bite us. I won't have to think about my parents and the crazy rules they've implemented.
If they had their way, I wouldn't be kissing anyone until I turn 25.
They hate the thought of their girls as women. They don't want us acting on our growing sexual urges; we've always been taught that those feelings are a sin. I spent such a long time believing them that it took years with Jackson to help me understand that I'm human and the way my body feels is natural. And it's okay.
I smile to myself now, thinking about him.
I'm up first in the morning, mostly because I'm anxious to get out of the house. Spending weekends at home is never a good idea, because it involves a lot of church and a lot of socializing with church people.
"Morning, mama," I say, coming down the stairs already dressed. I have a bag slung over my shoulder to prop up my lie that I have cheer practice all day.
"Good morning, April," she says, already working in the kitchen. I can tell she's making something, but I can't see what. Undoubtedly something to bring to her bible group.
"We won the game last night," I say cheerfully, hitching my bag higher.
"That's nice."
"I have cheer practice until dinnertime," I say, a bit ashamed that I don't feel guilty lying anymore. I did, at first. Way back in the beginning, when Jackson and I started dating. But now, it's grown to be so commonplace. I can't see him if I don't lie. And not seeing him isn't an option. "May I take my car to school?"
She looks up from what she's stirring, eyes flitting to my bag. "I suppose," she says.
My parents like the idea of organized sports. They think being a part of them teaches us to think of others before ourselves. When my sisters and I were little, they put us in every sport they could to see what stuck. I failed at soccer, basketball, swimming and tennis until they finally caved and put me in something where no hand-eye coordination was required. They never let me wear all the makeup that cheer requires, but I sneak it in my bag and put it on at school when I need to.
They never come to games. They hate the atmosphere, so they're none the wiser.
"Thank you, mama," I say, walking around the island to drop a kiss on her cheek.
"If I don't see you, be ready for church tomorrow morning," she says, not looking up from her mixture. "You need to be there, and we won't wait for you."
"Yes, mama."
"Good girl."
I keep my head ducked low as I walk out the front door and towards the car, dumping the empty bag into the passenger's seat. When I look up, I see that my mother is watching me from the kitchen window with an unfeeling expression on her face. I raise my hand in a wave, and she nods curtly.
When I'm finally out of my neighborhood, I let out a sigh of relief. It doesn't take me long to drive to Jackson's house, where I notice his car is the only one in the driveway. His mom is gone on business a lot, so it isn't surprising. When I'm not here, he's alone most of the time.
It's a crisp early-November morning, and I'm only wearing leggings and a gray sweatshirt, so I hurry to the door and use my key to open it. Jackson's mom doesn't know I have one, but he had it made for me almost as soon as we started dating.
It's early and the house is quiet, so my best guess is he's still asleep. But before I go up to his room to check, I meander into the kitchen and pick an apple out of the fruit bowl, taking a few bites as I walk through the house.
I realize I don't need to go up to his room though, because as I follow the sound of the TV, I find him asleep on the couch, flat on his back. I smile to myself, kick my shoes off, set my apple down, and make my way over.
As gently as I can, I crawl overtop of him so my body completely overlaps his. He stirs, so I stroke his face with mine tucked into his neck, whispering, "Just me."
He makes a low sound in his throat, stretching as he wakes up. He tightens his arms around me, one around my ribcage with his hand on my shoulder blade, and the other sneaking lower to rest on my butt. I smile softly, pressing my face further into his neck and breathing in. He smells like warmth and sleep.
"Why'd you sleep on the couch?" I ask, nuzzling my nose against his skin.
He hugs me tight. "I was watching TV."
"Were you lonely?"
I hear him smile. "I'm always lonely when you're not here."
"My mom thinks I'm at cheer right now," I say.
"Sinner."
"Shush."
He squeezes my butt and kisses the side of my face, what he can reach. My eyelids are heavy as I've grown so comfortable, ready to fall back to sleep stretched out over him.
"I'm sorry you have to lie," he says.
I don't open my eyes when I answer, "It's okay. I'm used to it."
"But you shouldn't have to be." I make a small sound, shrugging a little bit as he trails a hand along the strip of skin on the small of my back. "I just wanna tell people about us, Peach."
I tighten my arm around his shoulder. We have this conversation frequently. It's not easy for him to wrap his head around.
"I know," I say. "But my parents are crazy, baby. It'll all be different once we go to college and get far away from here. I promise. It'll be different, it'll be so much better."
He sighs, pressing an absentminded kiss to my temple. "I want all that now," he says.
"I know," I say. "Me, too. But we just can't."
"Why is it such a crime for me to love you?"
My heart swells. No one knows Jackson like this, the way I know him. No one knows how soft-hearted he really is, or how devoted he is to those he loves. I want more people to know about us, too, just so they could get a glimpse of our beautiful relationship. But my parents would never understand. If I told them, I'd be banned from ever leaving my room again, no less seeing him. Everything would be ruined.
And that is something I refuse to let happen to us.
"I don't know, baby," I say, stroking his face. "But it won't always be like this."
He hugs me again and sighs, and I close my eyes for a second time. I fall back to sleep lying on top of him, his arms around me, keeping me warm and safe.
…
The following Saturday, my dad drops me off at the school gym where I have cheer practice all morning. Really, this time.
"I can get a ride home after, daddy," I say, leaning on the hood of the car to look inside. The fall wind is crisp against my legs, bare from the short skirt of my uniform. "You don't have to come back and pick me up."
"You sure?" he asks.
"Yes," I say. "Thank you for taking me."
"You're welcome, darlin'," he says, then nods me goodbye.
I hurry into the school and meet my squad, ushered in by Lexie and Teddy as they're gathered inside the big gym. There's loud music playing in the background and the girls are stretching, so we join in.
"The boys are outside practicing," Lexie says, eyes glinting.
I giggle. "I know."
"Of course you know," Teddy says, elbowing me as I reach for one foot to stretch my hamstrings. She locks eyes with Lexie. "You already know who she's gonna sneak off with after practice is over."
Lexie smirks. "Your parents still think practice goes 'til the afternoon?"
I nod, blushing crimson. "I know it's not right," I say. "But if I don't lie, I don't get to see Jackson."
"And you'd die if that happened."
"I really think I would," I mutter.
We all crack up at that.
Cheer practice goes for two hours. We learn two new cheers, work on our jumps, and do a lot of tumbling, which is always my favorite. When it's over, Lexie gets my attention and points to the door leading outside, which Jackson is leaning up against still dressed in his #2 jersey.
"Bye, guys," I breathe, waving at my friends before jogging to him. "Hey," I say, and he extends his arms to give me a big hug.
"I was watching you," he says.
"Creep," I say, giggling as I crane my neck to look at him.
"You're so hot when you fly," he says. "Like whew… up in the air. Like a little rocket. You ever get worried they'll gonna drop you?'
"They do sometimes," I say, walking through the doors with him out to the parking lot. He swings an arm around my shoulders and keeps me close so I stay warm. "I'm used to it."
"Oh, you're used to falling on your head from like, ten feet in the air?"
I swat his chest. "They usually catch me."
We make it to his Jeep and he opens the back door. I look at him confusedly, but he nods me inside then gets in behind me.
"What are you doing?" I ask, scooting so he has room.
He pops my personal bubble immediately, getting close to kiss me. I smile because of it, resting a flat hand on his chest.
"What are you doing?" I ask again.
"I miss you," he says, grabbing ahold of my hips to pull me onto his lap. I settle my weight on his thighs and hold his face in my hands, resting my forehead against his as his hands sneak to my butt.
"I'm right here," I say, my lips incredibly close to his, but I don't kiss him. I feel his breath on my skin, we couldn't be closer, but all I do is smile. I love having him right here, all his attention on me. I love the way his eyes feel on my body, knowing how bad he wants me. "What're you gonna do with me?"
"More like what am I not gonna do," he says slyly, smacking my butt.
I gasp a little bit, smiling as I lean into him. "Did you just spank me…?" I trail off.
"Mm-hmm," he says. "Want me to do it again?"
He squeezes my behind tight in his hands and I squeal with laughter, falling to lie beneath him on the cloth seats. I pinch my eyes shut tight and laugh with my head thrown to one side, then inhale sharply as I feel him flip my cheer skirt up.
"What are you…?"
"It's been too long, Peach," he says, pulling off the tiny shorts I wear under the skirt that keep me decent.
"Jackson," I say, propping myself up on my elbows to look at him with alarm. "What if people see?"
He rests his head against the inside of my knee. "Then they'll be jealous," he says. "I'm the king of giving head, as proclaimed by you, so-"
"Jackson," I say again, rolling my eyes.
"No one's around but us," he says. "Ever wonder why I park so far away?"
"So you can have your way with me?"
"Exactly," he says, and pulls my underwear off.
His tongue between my legs is a sensation I've not yet grown accustomed to, and I don't think I ever will. It makes my eyes roll back in my head and my thighs push in on his ears; it feels so good.
He explores me with his mouth, spreading my lips so his tongue can slip in further. With a smile, he looks up and pushes two fingers inside me, which makes my mouth come open in a gasp that fills the whole car. Suddenly, I'm not thinking about who might see us or what'll happen if get caught. All I'm thinking about is the way he makes me feel, looking just the way I like in his football jersey.
"You're wet, baby," he says, pushing deeper. He kisses my bare knee, letting his lips rest there as he watches me writhe and keen in response to his ministrations.
"That's what happens when you…" I say, but lose my thought in the way my body feels.
"When I what?" he asks, using his free hand to trail down my smooth leg. He reaches my ankle and holds it in his palm, bowing my leg out further while using it for leverage.
"I don't know," I sigh, closing my eyes as I feel his mouth on me again.
He sucks my outer lips, creating popping sounds when he releases that I relish. The windows are foggy from my heavy breathing, and that's somewhat of a comfort. It makes me feel like we're in our own little bubble that can't be popped. I want to stay in it forever.
He runs his fingertips along the soft skin of my inner thighs, making goosebumps appear as he does. I feel my muscles twitch because I want him back, so I reach lower and ghost my fingers across the nape of his neck.
"Don't stop," I whisper.
He smiles and returns. He parts my lips again and licks upwards, which makes my leg muscles tense as I inhale sharply. He continues with that motion slowly, keeping his tongue relaxed and soft, while he massages my thighs with his strong hands.
My eyelashes flutter as he changes the movement side-to-side, pressing his tongue firmly higher. He licks his lips and uses his thumb to press against my clit, which was something I never knew existed until he showed me.
I gasp loudly and moan his name, which only encourages him. When my orgasm starts, he only gets more confident with what he's doing, and kisses every inch of hot, pulsating skin between my thighs. When my brain is on full sensory overload, he pulls me up from my lying position to collapse against his chest, wrapping his arms around me as I come unwound from everything he did.
As it ends, I kiss his neck with an open mouth. He smoothes his hands down my cheer skirt and holds the back of my thighs, keeping me anchored to earth. As I look into his eyes, they're cloudy with emotion. I'm sure mine look the same - swimming with not only my orgasm, but with how much love I feel for him.
I never thought it was possible to feel this much. I always thought that head-over-heels love in the movies was stupid and unrealistic, but now I know for a fact that it's not.
...
A month later, I get a call from Jackson on a Monday afternoon, about an hour after school lets out. I answer the phone after hurrying up to my room.
"Jackson, you know you can't-"
"I have big news," he says, interrupting me. "Can you get over here? I wanna tell you in person."
I furrow my eyebrows. "What kind of big news?"
"Huge news!" he says, unable to contain himself. "I just really need to see you. Can you please come over? I want you here."
I look at the clock. It's just past 4. Dinner will be on the table at 6, and I don't know what kind of excuse I can tell my mom so I can leave the house after I just came home.
"Okay," I say. "I'll be there as soon as I can."
I change out of my school clothes and into a modest outfit of jeans and a sweater, then make my way to my mom's workspace down the hall. She's sitting at her sewing machine, working on a piece of brown fabric.
"Mama," I say, leaning on the door. I keep my voice quiet, unassuming. She's big on tone.
"Yes, April."
I swallow hard, thinking as I go. I know I've gotten way too good at this. I should be ashamed of myself. I pray every night for forgiveness, but I don't know what good it does when I continue to act on the same sin over and over again.
"May I go over to Lexie's house? We have a big English test coming up and she needs my help studying."
My mother stops her movements with the sewing machine and sits still. "You've found yourself leaving the house quite often lately," she says.
"I know, mama." My stomach twists. I hate this feeling. This is the worst part.
"Is Lexie aware that she's taking away from your time at home with your family?"
"She needs help, mama. I don't think I could bear to… she was crying on the phone. She doesn't want to fail, and she knows I'm the top of our class."
"Don't boast. It's not becoming on a young lady."
I bow my head. "I'm sorry, mama."
"You may go and help her. But I want you home for supper."
I do my best in keeping the smile off my face. I have to keep up my act until I'm out of this room. "Thank you, mama," I say. "I won't be late, I promise."
I hurry down the hall and to the car, where I get in and drive to Jackson's as fast as the speed limit allows. I pull into his driveway and hurry out, rushing inside the front door to find him already in the entryway, waiting for me.
"What is it?!" I say excitedly, latching my arms around his waist.
He's beaming. His eyes are shining and his smile is a mile wide. He hands me a piece of paper and I look at him, seeing that he's nodding me along to read it.
I open it, unfolding carefully.
Dear Jackson,
Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the University of Alabama Class of 2015.
I stop reading right there. I drop the paper and gape, then leap into his arms.
"You did it, baby!" I cheer. "You did it! You got in! Bama!"
"I more than got in," he says, setting me back down. He holds my face in his hands and looks deep into my eyes as I search his. "I got a full ride. For football."
My eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. "A full…" I can't contain myself. I jump into his arms again and he holds me even tighter, kissing me over and over. "A full ride! Oh my god, Jackson! That's so amazing!"
"I know!" he says. "A scout saw me and wanted me." He can barely catch his breath. "I never thought this would actually happen."
I rest my hands on either side of his neck and kiss him, closing my eyes and leaning my weight against his chest. "I always did," I say.
We smile with our foreheads pressed against each other, then kiss until we can't see straight.
"You wanna celebrate?" I ask, when we're up in his room. I pull out of his arms and stand a few feet away, stripping my sweater off over my head so I'm left in just my jeans and bra.
He smiles devilishly. "Of course I do," he says. "Get over here."
He picks me up and tosses me on the bed, and I squeal as I laugh. I wrap my arms around his neck and relish the weight of his body relaxing against mine, tipping my head up as his lips find my throat.
"I never could've done this without you," he says.
I smirk to myself, trailing my fingertips down his back. "Yes, you could've."
"No, I really couldn't," he says adamantly.
"Jackson," I say, rolling my eyes. "Me cheering for-"
"Not just that," he says, sitting up and pulling his shirt off. I let my eyes roam over his defined chest, pausing on his pecs and lower to his abs. "You've been with me every step of the way. You helped me fill out this application."
"Well, I'm your biggest fan," I say, eyes shining.
"And I'm yours," he says. "Just wait 'til you get your full ride. I'm gonna rent a plane and fly a banner over town."
I crack up, throwing my head back with laughter. He laughs with me, kissing my open neck and getting me out of my jeans seemingly at once. We come together as we always do, bodies moving as one as we make the other feel good.
"I love you, Peach," he says, mouth covering my nipple. My eyes flutter as his tongue hardens it to a peak, and I finger-comb his curls back from his face. I can't help but smile at the nickname he gave me just after we started dating. He tried to call me Apricot, but it was too long. So, he chose another fruit instead. Peach just stuck.
"I love you more," I say, and truly mean it from the bottom of my heart. He is everything to me. "And I'm so…" My words get lost as he kisses down my stomach, nuzzling his nose in the invisible hair below my bellybutton. I let out a little moan. "I'm so proud of you."
When we're fully naked and ready for it to happen, Jackson throws his head back and makes a loud sound of frustration. "I don't have a condom," he groans.
I open my legs wider, pulling at his hips to beckon him forward. "It's fine," I say, urging him along. "Just this once."
…
The next day after school, I see Jackson at his locker for the first time all day. A few of his teammates are gathered around him, smiling widely and patting him on the back, so I keep to the side with my hands on my backpack straps. I wait until they dissipate, and walk lightly over as he's digging around for his bag.
"Hey, quarterback," I say, and he peeks around the locker door to make eye contact.
He chuckles. "You saw all that, huh?"
I nod. "So, you told them?"
"Yeah," he says.
"What'd they think?"
He shrugs, playing modest. "They think it's awesome. But I'm not worried about what they think," he says. "Only you."
I lean my head against the cool metal and sigh dramatically. "Yeah, well… soon Mr. Football Star is gonna move away and forget all about his girlfriend…"
He shuts his locker and looks at me, but he isn't smiling like I thought he would be. I can't help but match his serious expression when I see it, feeling the taunting smile die from my face.
"That's impossible," he says.
"I'm just joking, baby," I say, smiling softly as I wind an arm around the small of his back.
"I know," he says, eyebrows furrowing. "But… just don't say that, okay?"
"Okay."
He taps the bracelet on my wrist, and I don't need any words to know what he's thinking. I tap bracelet he wears, mirroring his action and repeating the sentiment: forever .
...
I find out I'm pregnant on New Year's Day. I'd spent mornings of the last two weeks throwing up first thing, hiding my sickness from my family. When I missed my period, I knew I had to do something. So, I bought six pregnancy tests from the gas station and practically fainted when they all read positive.
I'm standing in an assembly line between my mother and youngest sister, volunteering at church handing meals out to people who can't afford them on this chilly night. I would normally enjoy doing something good like this for the community, but my mind is very far away. I'm staring into space, my movements robotic, as I go through the motions.
I'm pregnant with Jackson's child.
I look to my mom, smiling demurely at the people whose bowls she dishes soup into. I look, then, to my sister, handing out chunks of bread. I'll be a pariah once they find out.
I look around the cafeteria, where everyone is eating. Our town is small and I know a lot of these faces. Everyone will talk. I'm the pastor's daughter. Everyone will know. And everyone will judge me, judge us. Everything will change.
I refuse to go to the doctor, but I'm pretty sure I'm about four weeks along. I'm too afraid to look anything up online, but I think that means my baby is smaller than a pencil eraser. Just a tiny bundle of cells.
Even though I've stopped adopting most of my family's religious views, I could never, will never abort it. I would never be able to live with myself knowing I erased a life that Jackson and I created. I'll see this through. How, I don't know. What I'll do once the baby is born, I really don't know.
I blink hard and try to reorient myself. I need to see Jackson. He needs to know. I want to tell him, not to burden him but to have someone on my side through all this. I know my family won't be. I'll be lucky if they let me stay under their roof.
We never stay up to watch the ball drop. After we get home from volunteering, everyone goes to bed with prayers. I retreat to my room without a word and wait an hour so the house will settle, then put on my winter gear to sneak out my window like I do when I'm desperate to see him.
I think tonight counts as more than desperate.
When I make it to Jackson's house, the lights are on and his mom's car is in the driveway, so I knock. He answers wearing a pair of glasses with '2010' on the lenses, smiling widely.
"Baby!" he says, opening the door to welcome me inside. "I didn't know you were coming. Did you sneak out?"
I nod shakily, wringing my hands.
"Mom's in the kitchen with Richard," he says, rolling his eyes. "We can come back down and watch the ball drop later. Wanna go up to my room? She won't care."
"Sure," I answer, my voice barely a peep.
"You okay?" he asks, leading the way.
"Yeah," I say, shedding my coat and boots to follow him up the stairs.
When he closes his bedroom door, we're surrounded by silence. He walks over to his desk and digs through his papers, then pulls out a brochure that he holds out for me to look at.
"I wanted to show you this," he says. "Look at these awesome dorms. I always thought dorms were like, these prison-cell looking things. But no, these are like mini-hotel rooms! They're awesome!" He kisses the side of my head. "I already can't wait for you to come visit. You hear back from Samford yet?"
We applied to colleges around the same areas, and now that he's confirmed for Bama, we're planning that I'll get accepted to Samford, University of Mobile and Huntingdon College. Or at least, we were. I don't know what will become of my college career now.
"No," I say, even though I got the letters earlier this week. I was accepted to all three.
"Oh," he says. "Well, you'll find out soon. Babe, I can't wait. Our lives are actually gonna start."
I smile at him as best I can. The look in his eyes is the happiest I've ever seen. It's breaking my heart.
"The colleges aren't even that far from each other, and I can drive to you all the time. I won't always make you drive to me. We can study together and after freshman year, I don't know, would you wanna move in together? In an apartment? On-campus housing is a real bitch with cost… it might be smart, actually. What do you think?"
"That sounds great," I say, voice weak.
He smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that. Do you think you're gonna cheer?"
I picture my round, pregnant belly protruding out of a cheer uniform and I feel sick.
"I don't know," I say, sitting on the edge of his bed. I can practically feel the weight of the six pregnancy tests inside my purse, begging to be exposed. But I can't force myself to do it.
"If you do, I'll be at every meet," he says. "I promise. Competitive cheer would be awesome. I know you'd make flyer."
"Yeah," I say.
"You sure you're okay, Peachy?" he asks, sitting next to me. He cranes his neck to try and catch my eyes, but I can't find it within myself to look back.
I can't tell him. I won't. All it'll do is ruin his life. It'll hold him back from everything amazing that's about to start for him. I won't make us the token couple who gets stuck in our hometown, I won't let my pregnancy keep him from his dreams.
I accept that this is mine to handle and mine alone. He doesn't have to know.
"I'm fine," I say, hands capped over my knees. I look at him and force a smile. "I'm really excited about all your college stuff. You seem really happy."
"I am," he says. "I just feel like everything's finally falling into place, you know? For me, and for us. We're gonna do this together, we're gonna move down south together and it's gonna be awesome. Your crazy family isn't gonna be there to tell you what to do, and we can make our own lives. Make our own decisions. Together."
I nod slightly. "Sounds great," I say, then stand up. I can't bear to be here anymore. All it's doing is making me upset. I need to go back home where I can be alone. Coming here was a mistake.
He deserves better than me, better what I can give him, better than the situation I was about to present him with.
"I should go," I say.
"But you just got here," he says, looking confused. "Thought you were gonna stay and watch the ball drop. Ring in the new year with your super-cute boyfriend who misses the hell out of you."
I chuckle halfheartedly. "I just don't think it's the best idea," I say. "I don't want my…" My words fade and trail off. "I just should go."
"Okay…" he says. "I'll walk you out."
He kisses me goodbye and tries to read my eyes. I know he knows something is on my mind, but I won't tell him. I don't plan on ever letting this secret go.
…
Months pass. It gets colder outside, then frigid. I don't go to the doctor's and I wear bulky, loose clothing. I barely let Jackson touch me.
I'm growing by the day. My face is fuller, belly rounder, feet more swollen. I'm pregnant, there's no denying. But I've succeeded in hiding it from everyone I know.
As winter passes and the weather gets warmer, my belly is harder to hide. When I'm six months along, the right angle will give me away. I have to carefully calculate how I present myself.
I know I can't stay here for much longer. My mother and father keep trying to make college plans, and I go along with them halfheartedly. I know they won't happen, because I've been planning something very different. Alone.
With my two jobs as youth pastor at my church and at the library, I'm saving enough money for a ticket out of here and first month's rent for an apartment in Chicago. I have a savings fund that I can access once I turn 18. There isn't a crazy amount in there, but it's enough to get me started.
There's a Greyhound bus that leaves from my hometown in Ohio that will take me directly into the city. One of these days, I plan on being on it. I don't know when yet, but I think my gut will tell me.
I'm over at Jackson's house right now, thinking about everything. I'm wearing a sweater in June, keeping my arms wrapped around my stomach, watching him fill out forms for college. He's leaving in just a couple months.
This is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. Leaving him, having his child, knowing he's somewhere else existing without me. Wondering where I am, what I did.
But I know it has to be done. I won't hold him back. I won't be that person. I can do this on my own, and he can live the life he's always dreamed. I want that for him. I want it more than anything.
"I can't do this anymore," he says, pushing the papers away. "I'm tired of college already."
I blink, slow and deliberate. "It'll be okay," I say.
He sighs and meets my eyes. "Will you lay down with me?" he asks. "I'm so tired. I just wanna… can I just hold you for a little bit?"
I've been his comfort for as long as we've been dating. When he's sad, he wants to be near me. When he's stressed, worried, or hurt, I'm his first thought.
I hate knowing it won't be like this for much longer.
"Yeah," I say, though I'm nervous about how this will work. I've been skittish of him near my stomach lately, for good reason. But I want to make him feel better, I want to be close to him for what might be one of the last times. I want him to know I always loved him, and I always will. I don't want him to think I disappeared because of something he did.
I've been trying to draft the letter I plan on leaving him for weeks. But nothing comes out the way I want it to.
We go up to his bedroom and he lies on his back, extending an arm for me. I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder and take his hand that's on his stomach, spinning the bracelet that matches mine. I smile as it glints in the light, and turn it so I can see the plate. I run the pad of my pointer finger over the cursive lettering, the tiny etched 'forever' in the middle, and feel the weight of my own as I touch his.
We never take them off. He got them made for us for our one-year anniversary, and I never expected anything so nice. I've managed to hide it from my parents for a long time, and I know that once I leave this town, leave him, it'll be something I never lose.
"Are you okay?" he asks, lips moving against my forehead.
I nod.
"You don't really seem okay," he whispers.
"I am," I murmur.
"You don't seem like you," he says.
"I'm okay," I say, voice wavering.
"Are you scared?" he asks. "Of all this change?"
I nod again. Little does he know.
"It'll be okay, Peach," he assures me. "We'll always have each other. You know that, right? You're always gonna have me."
"Okay," I say, barely a peep.
"I know it's huge and scary right now. And it seems like everything's gonna be messed up. But it's not. It's gonna be awesome, even better than it is now. You're gonna be awesome at Samford, we're gonna see each other all the time. Nothing about us is gonna change."
I sniffle. "You promise?"
I don't know why I say it. I think I just want to hear him respond, hear the answer I know he'll give me.
"Of course," he says. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," I say.
…
I spend less and less time with Jackson as the summer goes on. I make excuses not to see him, not to see anyone. I hide in my room for the better part of each day, leaving only to work.
My condition is getting harder and harder to hide. I buy my bus ticket. I know my time to leave is coming soon.
On a hot day in the beginning of August, I pen the letter to my parents. I leave it short and sweet, just enough to assure they won't come looking for me.
Dear Mama and Daddy,
I'm sorry for this, but it's what I had to do. I'm leaving home and I'm not coming back. I'm safe, I promise. But please don't look for me. I've made a mistake I can't take back. Thank you for everything you've done.
PS- Libby, Kimmie, and Alice… I love you.
I fold the paper in half and push it to the side, staring for a long moment before clicking my pen again and starting in on Jackson's. This one will hurt more, hurt the most. It'll break every inch of my heart to write it, knowing that I'm breaking his.
Dear Jackson,
I'm sorry for leaving you, but I had go. I've made a lot of mistakes, and none of them should involve you. You're meant for great things. I never wanted to keep you from those things. I hope you understand that's why I have to go. I love you more than I've ever loved anything. And I'll never stop. But I don't want you to come looking for me. This is what I want. I need to get away from here and start fresh. I can't tell you why. I just need you to forget about me. Just know that I loved you enough to let you go. I need you to do the same.
You'll always be in my heart.
-Peach
I don't let myself see him one last time. If I did, I know I wouldn't end up leaving. As I'm sitting on that bus staring out the window at the town where I grew up, the one I'll never return to, I think about the first time I saw Jackson. We were in the same biology class, lab partners, both fascinated by the frog dissection while everyone else was disgusted. From then on, we were best friends.
I remember our first kiss - just outside the stadium after we won a huge game. He was still in his shoulder pads, I was still in my cheer uniform. I ran to him expecting a hug and he gave me my first kiss. We were exclusive soon after.
We dropped 'I love yous' without waiting long, but it felt right. I wish more than anything that I could tell him one last time, but the letter has to be enough. I left it on his porch early this morning on my way to the bus station, right on top of the welcome mat.
I'm changing my number once I get into the city. No one will be able to find or contact me. I'll start fresh.
I don't know what life will throw me once the baby is born. I have no idea what to expect. But I think I'm doing the right thing in taking him or her away from a community that would treat us like outcasts. I can make a life for us. I have enough money saved. I have a strong head on my shoulders. I'm confident, smart and responsible. I can do this.
I stare down at my lap, at the cherries printed on the only dress left that fit me. He hadn't known it, but the last time Jackson and saw each other we were in his driveway. He had walked me out to my car, one palm resting on the hood as I leaned back against it, talking about his football schedule. He was intimidated by it, but I barely heard a word he said. I couldn't listen. My eyes were searching his face, desperately trying to memorize everything I would have to keep close with his senior picture.
His wallet-sized senior picture with LOVE YOU, PEACHY scrawled on the back in his horrible handwriting.
The bus starts to move. I take one lasting look at my town, then close my eyes as the tears leak from the corners. I can't bear to watch it go.
…
CHICAGO, PRESENT
When Theo gets bronchitis, there isn't a simple treatment. He has asthma, so it involves a trip and a stay in the hospital. It's something we're both used to, but it never ceases to scare me. Though he's always in good spirits during his stays, I never leave his side.
"Mama, what's nine plus seven plus four plus seventeen?"
I smile to myself, leaning forward on my elbows that rest on his bed. "Am I your human calculator?" I ask.
He smiles. His eyes sparkle like his father's.
"You're a genius, mama," he says. "You know everything. Right?"
"Right," I say. "And it's thirty-seven."
He grins again, ever wider this time as he claps his hands together. When he starts breathing harder, though, he coughs and wheezes with his eyebrows furrowed together. I grab his inhaler and hold it between his lips, pressing the oxygen into his mouth. When he breathes easier, so do I.
He rests his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes. "Will you lay by me, mama?" he asks.
"Sure," I say. "Scoot over."
He does, and I nestle close to my son on the tiny hospital bed, lifting the thin cover over both of us. I kiss the side of his head and nuzzle my nose against his temple, breathing in his sweet, familiar scent.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Coughing makes my chest hurt."
I rub his sternum, knowing what he means. It must be exhausting. "I know, baby boy," I say. "You're gonna be better soon, though. I promise."
"Soon soon?" he asks.
"In the blink of an eye."
"I blinked," he says. "I'm not better."
I chuckle, kissing his hair. "You're a smart one, aren't you?"
"I'm a genius, too," he says. "Just like you."
"How about two geniuses take a little nap," I say. "And when we wake up, we'll be even smarter."
He agrees silently, closing his eyes as he rests his head against mine. I tickle his arm, running my fingernails up and down the length of it, until his breathing comes steadier and he falls deeply asleep. I go next, shutting my eyes and feeling complete with my son at my side, where I like him best.
I'm awoken a while later by his stirring beside me. I open my eyes, vision blurry, and see someone standing in the doorway with a camera crew.
Theo sits up, back rigid and straight. I concentrate on his face and see that his eyes are wide, mouth gaping open. He looks like he's seen a ghost.
I follow his gaze, and realize what's the matter moments after he does.
When my son speaks, our whole world falls down.
"Daddy?"
