THE BEGINNING

Chapter One

"I'm pregnant."

I hate the way she says it. Hate that we can't be in a good enough place that she might announce this news with happiness. And how, after the words tumble out, she looks up at me through her lashes, eyes worried as hell. She knows as well as me we can't afford no more. I try everything I got in me to make my damn mouth just give her somethin'. She deserves a smile at least. But all I can do is nod and look around the dimmed kitchen and quietly say, "Okay," then let out a long, tired breath.

So it's no surprise when she sits back in the hard chair, face covered, shoulders shaking with hushed sobs. I'm responsible. For her worry, her sadness, her exhaustion. Hell, for her pregnancy. I bring my hand down my face, try to wipe away my selfish fears and pull out the chair to sit beside her. It creaks when I lean forward and run a hand up her thigh, snaking my way underneath the long t-shirt of mine she wears to bed. "C'mon Maggie. It ain't all bad. We'll make it work." But the words don't sound like mine and end up falling flat.

"Daddy?" comes a soft, seeking voice and the sound of little feet are fast approaching. Maggie immediately starts to compose herself, wiping her tears, working to steady her shaky breath. By the time Darry arrives she's greeting him with one of those smiles, the ones I married her for, but you can't ever fool that kid. "What's wrong?" He looks to me, uneasy, knowing full well his mother's smile is out of place on such a flushed and tear streaked face.

But that trembling smile is the best she can do, and I know talking's damn well out of the question for her so I take over. "Mom laughed so hard at one of my jokes she done worked herself up. Ain't that right, Momma?" I look to her and she's nodding her head, her two front teeth biting her lower lip, all for Darry, but I know a fresh set of tears is fixing to spill so I get right up and take my boy's hand. "Let's get you back in bed kiddo, what do ya say?"

As I tuck Darry in I feel like crawling up beside him and falling asleep right there. My shift tonight about put me under and I don't know where I'll find the strength to go back to that kitchen and face the grenade Maggie threw right when I got home. I was just trying to heat the leftovers and then get some shut eye before I have to do it all over again. "What happened to Momma?" Darry asks, his pale blue eyes squinting up at me, inspecting my face carefully.

I rub his fresh haircut and change the subject. "Boy look at this head of hair. Mom about buzzed you down, huh?"

He laughs and touches the short, soft hairs that are standing up. "I wanted her to though. Feels better under my helmet."

"Well, I'd reckon so. Who'd y'all play today?" And I let him tell me about the game he dreamed up, how it was first and ten at the twenty yard line with two minutes left. The fumble was recovered, taken right back down the field by none other than Darrel Curtis, Jr. He ain't yet six, but that boy's head is entirely on football, imagining his own players and detailed bowl games, his team always on top. On a few occasions he'll allow himself a pretend loss and I have to bite back a chuckle whenever he takes it real, real hard.

He finishes with a yawn, revealing a gap where a bottom tooth used to be, and I poke at it, making him giggle. "Well where do you suppose that one run off to?"

"You know, Daddy. Tooth fairy took it."

"You mean to tell me that ole girl stole your tooth right out from under your pillow? My my," and I turn out his lamp, kiss his forehead and give myself a moment to just look at him. My first. His eyes are already closed and I sit there trying to figure how and when his face lost that baby look.

I remember the way Maggie looked when I took her away from her Daddy's house. I'd tried everything to get that man's blessing. But he wasn't having none of it. No daughter of his was gonna marry a non-Catholic, a no good cotton baler, an outsider. We left for Oklahoma that night, to the justice of the peace and a job at the oil rigs I'd heard about through a trusted field hand. At only nineteen, we'd packed the car with nothin' but hope and the thrill of escape, and I don't think I've ever felt so confident as we rolled out of town, while Louisiana and everything in it became nothing more to us than a swamp of bad memories. Maggie was beautiful sitting beside me, brave. She looked over at me like I was the one who had the power to hold up her world, and with our baby she was expecting and one of her smiles, I wanted nothing more.

My strained muscles fight me as I stand up and make my way down the hall, stopping to peek in at Sodapop all sprawled out, taking up most of the crib he's outgrown. Guess he'll be hitting Darry's bed sooner than he'd like. Oh well, 'bout time, but I'm already dreading the fights that'll cause. Soda won't sleep anywhere else but his crib and Darry won't want to share his bed with a toddler. I run my fingers through his locks that are curling up, matting at the nape of his sweaty neck. His face is blanketed by the long dark eyelashes he gets from Maggie. I kiss my two fingers and place them over his lips, his mouth that comes from me.

I hear Maggie busy in the kitchen. She's put out the food for me I was trying to heat in the first place, but my stomach is in somersaults and I don't think I want it anymore. No matter; I'm gonna have to act like I do and force it down.

As soon as I sit at my place, the head of the table, I work to get back the control of this situation. Maggie needs me to tell her this is a good thing. Not that we'll make it work. Not that we'll get through this hiccup that's happened. She needs me to act strong and capable, pleased even, while I'm wondering how the hell we'll survive this…accident. God, I hate to think of my own kid that way and I know I'm gonna love it, but I just need a few minutes to catch my breath and wrap my head around it all.

"Maggie," I say and grab her hand as she's passing behind my chair and pull her easily into my lap. "I thought you looked like you were glowin' this mornin'." I flash her a grin, but I can tell she ain't biting on that line when her breath escapes her in a huff. I plow forward. "I'm being serious. I've had some time for it to sink in and I'm really glad about it," I say with an an air that nobody but… well, nobody but Maggie can see right through.

She gives me a few soft pats of appreciation for my attempts, her hand small against my shoulder, but her eyes look wet and worried as she shakes her head and it's as though she doesn't even have the strength, when what she says is in a pained whisper, "We're gonna fall apart." With that she leaves the room and I'm knocked back by her words, by her look of defeat. Since when did Maggie Curtis ever give up?

How on God's green earth did I let this happen? Had I not counted my cycle out right? I knew when to avoid Darrel, I knew the nights I needed to turn him away from me, even when I wanted so badly to get close. I guess I don't have my own body figured out, cause I'm right back where I was at nineteen. But that was different. Then, I didn't know what to expect, what to fear, what to worry about. And now, I know too much. How hard times can get.

Just the other day I had the idea of working some, and the thought excited me. I was gonna try and take on a few sewing jobs and do it all right in our house. I was gonna pull some weight around here and I figured I could make it work, even with Sodapop always under foot. But now, how can you get anything done when your milk's coming in and a baby's clinging on your breast? I hadn't even told Darrel of my idea and I guess I won't now, not for another couple years anyway.

We were more ahead when Sodapop was born. So ahead we hadn't even worried with counting my days. If I ended up pregnant, so be it. And when I found that I was, we were thrilled. Two kids. That's what we wanted. We were complete.

And then the oil company was bought and so many workers were let go. It hit hard, but Darrel took on two jobs and always made the money last. Now, in this situation, it doesn't take a genius to know he can't do more than he is already. And I'm scared this is gonna destroy him, us.

I'm just sitting in the bathroom miserable, on the tub's edge, listening to Darrel out there cleaning up his dishes. I should be doing that.

I look at the toilet and think back to this morning, when I leaned over and got sick into it. I knew that familiar nausea so well I didn't even need to go to the doctor for the test. But I went anyway, I guess cause I didn't want to accept it just yet. I said my appropriate, "Oh how wonderful," to the lady who handed me my results, then I dragged those misbehaving boys back home and waited, my nerves undone, for Darrel to come in. As much as I didn't want to tell him, I also didn't want to be the only one bearing this truth. And I suffered through supper, squabbles, bath time, Soda's tantrum, bedtime prayers, with a mind that raced around in circles, all while trying to be a decent mother, a human being, not the caged animal I felt like.

I know I didn't deliver the news how I should've. I didn't ease him into the thought, just threw it out there, letting the chips fall. Why shouldn't he feel so shocked and take on the look of a deer in headlights? Of course he reacted that way, so I don't know why I got so upset by it.

A tentative knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts and I'm almost ashamed to open it. I'd let my fears get the best of me and he didn't deserve to hear my worry of us being destroyed. What's wrong with me?

I open the door and there he is, still the most handsome man I've ever seen in my life and my breath catches just looking up at him. His sideways smile alone is enough to make me think all's right with the world, and he takes my hand in his and says, "C'mere."

I let him lead me out to the front porch, into the dark October night that's warmed by an Indian summer, down to the truck's dusty tailgate. "I hardly have on clothes Darrel," I remind him nervously, and I tug at the bottom of my shirt, his shirt, and glance around for any neighbors. "And what if I can't hear the boys get up?"

He just lights a cigarette, then pats the truck bed beside him to get me to sit. "The neighbors, the boys, they're all out like a light. It's just you and me, Maggie." I could listen to him say my name all day long in that slow, sexy drawl of his.

He's standing, leaning against the truck, and I can smell his aftershave that still clings to him after a long day working, breaking his back for the four of us.

"Look at this," he says, his arm sweeping across the view of our yard, the house. I look at it all and take it in. "Did you ever think we'd have all this? We're nothin but twenty-five years old Maggie." I nod, realizing he's right. We do have a lot. His voice carries the familiar sounds of the bayou we left behind when he says, "We got all our years ahead of us. And look at what we've made with the first six."

He sits down and puts his arm around me, his cigarette glowing between his fingers, reflecting on his wedding band, and my stomach quickens at the sudden excitement I feel. He sends the cigarette sailing with a flick and asks, "Now do you really think a third baby's gonna take us down? Hm?"

My eyes spring with tears and I can feel my face beaming so hard it might just crack. "No," I say, knowing how completely right he is, how completely irrational I was all day. "I wonder if it's a girl or a boy," I find myself saying and I realize I can't wait to find out, can't wait to feel the baby kick, can't wait for all of it. Even the diapers, the sleepless nights, the utter chaos.

Darrel's smile is warm when he places his hand on my stomach, and I can't be sure it's not just some strategy to soothe my emotional breakdown, but I see that his eyes hold that unmistakable spark, which tells me he's all in. Hell, he's always been all in. I've never met someone who's more willing to roll the dice, to jump feet first in everything when it comes to us. I should've known the night I watched him try and talk sense into my father. And when he lost that battle, it was me who won, cause he took me out of that house and never looked back. Darrel Curtis rescued me from a harsh and unforgiving life and gave me the one that I'd dreamed up somewhere deep inside me.

"I think it's gonna be a boy," he says and I'm sure that's his wish. He can't see himself raising a girl, but I can. He practically raises me up everyday. I can almost feel the baby inside of me settling into the comfort that's now radiating throughout my body, inside my womb.

I bring my hand up to feel the tufts of hair that kick out at the back of Darrel's tanned neck and he's leaning his face down to mine with those eyes, those lips, and draws me up. I feel my body rise to meet him as we lean back into the truck's bed while a nearby train thunders by; its noisy ruckus calls out into the night unnoticed. And we're swept up in our never-ending storm of passion that keeps landing me in the same delicate condition every few years.

And twenty-five never looked more beautiful.

A/N: The Outsiders by SE Hinton