So the stick had turned pink. She was pregnant. She knew that the minute she told Emily and Richard the wedding date would be set, the venue booked, the china patterns chosen and she would be officially bound to Christopher, and by extension her parents, forever. Or at least for the foreseeable future.
This was big, life changing, and she knew she wasn't ready for it. She didn't know anything about babies. One thing she did know was that she wasn't going to be like her parents. She would love her child, and her child would know she was loved. She wouldn't tell her kid that she talked too much or danced too much or had too much fun or couldn't spin in circles just to watch the world rotate around her. She wouldn't tell her she couldn't sing along to the radio at the top of her voice. She would hug and kiss her child, not tell her to maintain proper space and distance.
She wasn't going to be like her mother. She wasn't going to wear expensive Chanel jacket and skirt combos. She wasn't going to plan parties and be a corporate wife. She wasn't going to holiday to Cape Cod and smile because she had to and laugh to be polite. She wasn't going to let the pearls of society strangle themselves around her neck. She wasn't going to let herself forget the difference between fuchsia and baby pink. She wasn't going to forget why she needed six miniskirts, or why three pairs of boots wasn't enough. She wouldn't forget why Metallica kicked the Offsprings ass, or the feeling of being in the crowd at a Bangles concert.
She wasn't going to wear Chanel no.5 and get her hair done every Wednesday at three. She wasn't going to join the DAR, and get a "cute" nickname like Bunny or Sweetie. She wasn't going to marry Christopher because it was the "proper" thing to do. She would wait until she found someone she really loved.
She wasn't going to force her child to be seen and not heard and take etiquette classes. She wouldn't make her feel unloved or like a disappointment if she didn't live out her parent's dreams. She wanted to teach her to love and be loved, to have fun, and to dream. She wanted her kid to have the childhood she'd always wanted.
She was afraid to tell her parents about her baby. She was afraid to disappoint them, to ruin the life they'd always wanted for her, the one they themselves lived. She was afraid of not living up to their incredibly high expectations.
She was afraid of growing up, of having to be responsible and of losing more than her lunch break if she was late more than three times in a row. She was afraid of having to make serious decisions and of balancing her check book and of having to pay taxes.
She was afraid of getting old, of feeling the cold and having arthritis and a bad hip. She was afraid of being bitter, and having regrets and being full of resentment. She was afraid of forgetting how it felt to be sixteen. Most of all, she was afraid of forgetting herself.
Having a baby would without a shadow of doubt change her entire life irrevocably. Permanently. Forever.
And she was afraid.