There wasn't much Artie could do about changing his route to each class given that wheelchair accessibility was limited, but he sure as hell tried everything in his power to avoid me. He didn't even bother coming to lunch, and although I couldn't blame him for refusing to breathe the same air I did, it totally broke my heart to be in such a state with him. Our relationship hadn't been in so much jeopardy since I confessed about my stutter – and that was two years ago.
After school I sat outside the computer lab where, to my advantage, AV club was being held. A Kodak paper photograph lay spread across the combination of my two palms together. It was one that I often kept with me, and because of that, a distinct crease went across its middle for easy hiding. Our signature smiles said it all, especially the way he had both arms wrapped around my waist from the side of his chair. The photograph was an incentive, another push to make things right again.
After banging my head against the locker behind me, the door I had been sitting next to for thirty-seven minutes, finally swung inwards. I picked my head up and watched eight or nine pairs of pleated khakis with a variety of shoes, pass by my face. None of them I cared for except the said ensemble that included a red-framed wheelchair and sunshine colored gloves.
"Hey." I softly said.
"Don't even talk to me." He lifelessly said, turning away from me without hesitation.
"Artie wait…Artie!" I called, pushing myself off the ground.
It didn't take him long to speed up, and my power walk turned into a full-fledged run. Even with unsupportive flats on my feet, I caught up to Artie quickly. It was one of the only times where I was thankful that he was confined to a wheelchair, for I was by no means an athlete.
"Artie stop." I insisted, making my way to the front of his chair and placing my hands firmly around both armrests.
"Please step aside, Tina." He demanded, looking at me from over the rims of his eyewear.
"No." I strongly said, looking him dead in the eye. "Art, I have to tell you something."
"I don't have time for this." He said, wiggling away from my grip and detouring around me. I hang my head and piled my hands atop my still moderately flat abdomen - keeping my back towards him as he fled.
"I'm pregnant."
The rattling of his wheels came to a sudden mute.
"Don't toy with me like that, Tina." He dryly laughed, circling one hundred eighty degrees before pushing himself towards me twice. Biting one side of my bottom lip, I too turned around. At first I avoided direct eye contact by looking down at my feet, but then I brought my eyes up to meet his.
"You're…serious."
"I meant to tell you last night – but, but I panicked…and broke up with you instead."
His silence afterwards was even more painful then admitting the truth itself. Keeping his head down at a forty-five degree angle, his gaze followed a similar path. His eyes, usually filled with happiness and light, were pooling with panic. It was almost as if the only function his nervous system could handle was the flickering of his eyelids.
"Tina I-I'm so sorry." He said in a low voice, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.
"Why are you apologizing?" I lightheartedly asked, taking a few steps forward.
"Because this is my fault - I did this to you."
He took full responsibility, which I had to give him credit for, but it was unnecessary. After all, it did take two to tango. Not knowing what else to do, I spontaneously locked his chair in place, and threw my arms around his broad shoulders – bending at my middle. Artie locked his wrists behind the small of my back, pulling me closer as I pressed the right side of my face to his chest. Feeling my emotions ready to spill, I brought my right leg up and tucked it under me as I placed myself in his lap.
"You're alright." He softly shushed, running a hand up and down my back as I silently cried into the curve of his neck. I was seventeen, and pregnant two months into my senior year – "alright" wasn't exactly the correct adjective to describe the situation. With that in mind, I shook my head, burying my face into the collar of his shirt.
Because there were fifteen minutes before his dad was to pick him up, Artie and I went down to the auditorium once I calmed down. It was a place we both trusted, and the chance that other people would be there was slim. We took the back entrance that led directly to the stage. The large room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop and so dark that I couldn't tell stage from thin air. Despite its mysterious atmosphere, I wandered aimlessly forward across the theater until the house lights magically appeared.
"I'd say let's put together a musical number that describes our situation…but that's not gonna make it go away." Artie said rolling over to the piano.
"Oh Artie, what are we gonna do?" I asked, taking a seat on the piano bench.
"I-I don't know." He coldly said, shaking his head. "But I wanna be perfectly clear."
Oh Lord.
"I'm not gonna let you do this alone." He said reaching for both of my hands.
"Thank you." I said squeezing his hands.
"I mean…it is mine right?"
"Yes." I snickered, rolling my eyes.
"Hey, just making sure."
Although I knew he wouldn't leave me in the dark, having Artie say that he'd absolutely help me though it all was what I needed to hear. He was responsible, which helped make be believe that things were going to be okay.