Chapter 21 – Fork in the Road

I don't make a decision. I can't. I know I can't birth the baby and give it up for adoption. I know I'm deliberating between parenting and abortion…but when both of the options terrify me, how can I choose? I've always felt like a strong person, a determined person who knows her own mind, and now I despite myself for my weakness. But despite that, I just close my eyes to the obvious and pretend it's not happening, despite the weeks that are passing by all too quickly.

And it is obvious, to me. I wouldn't have expected early pregnancy to make itself so felt, but for me it does. Vera went months without knowing, but as I struggle through each day dragging under the leaden weight of exhaustion I wonder how on earth she did it. It's not just the tiredness either. My sense of smell becomes so sensitive that I can't stand the perfume I've worn for years anymore, and I can smell Jasper's sweaty sneakers in his room the instant I enter the house. The discordant mass of smells in the school cafeteria make me gag; and although I have a constant, low-level nausea bubbling away in my stomach I'm lucky enough not to throw up. My breasts ache ceaselessly, and become so tender and sensitive that I need to wear a sports bra to sleep in to stop the pain from them waking me up. Worse, I am constantly on the brink of tears and find myself weeping over anything, something that I find appalling and which drives Royce to distraction.

"What?" he demands one night, turning to face me on the seat beside him in his family's theatre room. He runs his hand through his hair, looking baffled. "Rosalie, we're watching Terminator….why are you crying?"

"I'm not," I sniffle untruthfully, wiping my eyes on the back of my hands and feeling mortified. "I'm fine."

"Good." Royce pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around me. I wince as my sore breasts are pressed against his chest, but he doesn't notice as he runs a hand down my back and kisses me. "I love you."

His kisses are getting more insistent, his hand bunching up my skirt so he can reach underneath it. I kiss him back, but as I close my eyes the waves of exhaustion wash over me and I find myself dizzy with it. I pull away, my hands on his chest and his arms still around me.

"What?" Royce sounds hurt.

"I'm just really tired," I say softly, playing with the button on his shirt. "It's been a really long week."

"Come upstairs," Royce coaxes. "Please. I've hardly seen you this week. We can just lie down, chill out…"

Have sex, I finish silently. All I really want to do is go home and go to sleep in my own bed. But Royce is looking at me with such tenderness and we really haven't spent much time together this week, so I take a deep breath and nod, and the two of us walk through his empty house and upstairs to Royce's room.

His bed is big and I'm warm and comfortable lying beside him, my head on his shoulder and his arms around me. Royce uses the remote control to turn on the stereo, and I close my eyes and relax as the music flows around us and he rubs his hand in small circles on my back.

"Are you really okay?" he asks with sincere concern. "You've been kind of off lately."

"Mmm," I mumble, already feeling half asleep. "Sorry…I'm really okay. Just tired."

Royce start stroking my side, running over the curve of my waist and hip. He kisses the top of my head and then nudges and nuzzles at me until I raise my face and kiss his lips. "Love you so much," he breathes, pushing his thigh in between my legs.

I feel almost drunk with tiredness, and it's like being in a dream as we kiss and I grind slowly against his leg, my eyes still closed and the music beating in my skull. I've thought since I've been pregnant that everything between my legs is more sensitive, and now I'm sure of it because all of this rubbing and kissing feels so good. At least until Royce's hands start wandering, and the pain of my tender breasts being touched brings me out of the pleasant dream and back to reality.

Twice I manage to divert him, taking his hand and holding it in mine, or sliding it down to my ass. The third time he yanks his hand back and then glares at me. "What, Rosalie, what is it?" he demands. "I can't even touch you now? What's your problem lately? You tell me there's nothing wrong, but you're sure not acting like normal."

"I'm sorry," I say wearily. "There's really nothing…"

"Bullshit!" Royce is angry now. "What the fuck is it? Are you seeing someone else? Are you trying to break it off with me?"

"No!" I look up at him entreatingly. The fact is he's right and something is up with me doesn't matter- it's imperative that he not push for why I'm acting so oddly. "You know I love you." I hook my leg up higher over his hip. I don't want to fight with him, I just want to get this over with and go home to bed. I let my hands slip down to the waistband of his pants. "I want you."

Royce doesn't need more of an invitation than that, and soon we're both naked. I don't say anything when his mouth on my breast makes me want to scream, but instead I wrap my legs around him and do everything I can just to make him come.

Afterwards he holds me gently in his arms, kissing my face and stroking bare skin and telling me that he loves me. He tells me that he's worried about me, that all he wants is to be with me and that I scare him when I act so distant and weird. My face in his neck I kiss him back, and try and reassure him. Because I do love him, and when he's like this I want nothing more than to be with him forever. His neediness brings out my protective instinct towards him, and I love feeling so wanted.

"I don't ever want to lose you," he tells me seriously.

"You won't," I tell him, kissing the hollow of this throat. "I love you. Although you will lose me now, because it's getting late and I have to get home." I finish with a smile, and Royce laughs.

"Okay babe, let's get dressed and I'll drive you."

We dress, and drive the short distance to my house. Royce parks in the front and leans across and kisses me deeply. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

I nod. "Sure."

Royce touches my cheek. "Sleep well…you look like you need it."

I do need sleep. The staircase that I've run up and down nearly every day of my remembered life seems like a mountain as I trudge up it, dropping my bag at the top.

"Hey Rose," Jasper calls.

I go into his room and flop on the bed beside him. "Hi."

"Excuse me for saying so, but you kind of look like shit." Jasper is eyeing me with concern.

"I love you too," I mumble grumpily. I grab one of his pillows and nestle down on it.

"I'm sorry. But are you getting sick or something?"

"Or something…" I murmur, closing my eyes. Part of me wants to tell Jasper about the baby and beg for him to make up my mind for me, but I am much too tired to get into a difficult emotional conversation now.

I don't know what Jasper says in response, because I fall asleep before he can talk, and I don't wake up until morning. Even then I feel like I've barely slept.

Instead of nausea I wake up with a raging appetite, and after my shower I eat two bowls of microwave oatmeal and a banana before it feels like I can face the day. When Royce honks for me, I grab an apple and stuff a bag of peanut butter cups in my pocket for later, and shout to Jasper that we're going if he wants a ride.

Jasper thumps down the stairs. "Yeah, I'll come with you if that's okay. The Camaro wouldn't start yesterday, Dad's going to get someone to look at it."

"We really need to get some serious work done on it," I comment, leading the way down the path to Royce's car. I slip into the front seat and kiss Royce. "Jasper's hitching a ride with us."

Royce keeps his face blank. I know he doesn't like Jasper that much. Or at least, he doesn't like how close we are. It bothers Royce that I have someone in my life who is closer to me than he is, and he doesn't understand the way Jasper and I are together. I've never quite been able to explain to anyone the way our bond is after enduring our mother's illness and death together, and our dad's absence.

I don't think Jasper really likes Royce all that much either. He doesn't say a lot, but the comments he makes are not complimentary, and he always seems a little displeased when I talk about Royce.

It really makes things difficult for me sometimes.

I'm thinking about the two of them and how different they are, sleepwalking through another day at school, when I hear my name called in the hallway. I turn around blankly and see Mr Rhys, my guidance counsellor.

"Rosalie? You got a minute?"

"I've got chemistry," I say cautiously. What does he want with me?

"I'll write you a pass. Come on in, I want a word."

Reluctantly I follow him into his office and take a seat. He sits behind his desk and withdraws a folder from a pile on his desk before he looks at me and smiles kindly.

"I'm glad I caught you. How are you doing?"

"Fine," I say with a shrug.

"Really? There's nothing going on?"

I sigh and shake my head. "No, nothing."

Liar.

"Well, that's not what I've been hearing." Mr Rhys flips open the folder and glances down at the papers inside it. "I've had your name come up a few times in the past couple of weeks- several of your teachers are very concerned about you and what seems like a very sudden turnaround in your work and behaviour. Not handing homework in, bad scores on quizzes, complete disengagement in class…does this sound like you?"

I shrug. It wasn't me, a month ago, but now…who knows?

"No one is angry Rosalie, we're just concerned. It has only been a few weeks but you've always been a good student, and this kind of sudden change usually indicates some sort of problem. So if there's anything you want to talk about…"

He leaves the sentence dangling, and I shake my head. "Really, I'm okay. I'll do better."

Mr Rhys sighs. "I hope you will. These grades count, Rosalie." He shuffles through the papers again and looks at me keenly. "Your SAT scores were excellent, and with your grades up until this point you're looking great for college applications. But finals are coming up, and you need to get back on track or you'll be looking at a very different picture, come time to apply next year."

I stare at him blankly. College? I don't even know if I'm going anymore.

"Okay Rosalie?" Mr Rhys is looking at me curiously. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about anything? There are lots of things we can do if you're having issues with anything…"

I shake my head, ridiculously close to tears. "No, it's okay. I'm sorry. I've just had a few things on my mind, but I'll get back on top of things now. I promise." I gather my books together and get up. "Thank you, but don't worry about me. It's all fine."

I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he writes me out a late note for my chemistry teacher and then I leave his office.

I don't go to chemistry though. Instead I go to the small teachers' bathroom on the third floor that no one ever uses. I think about Vera and Jim, who used to make out in here all the time, and as I sit on the cool tiled floor with my head against the wall I smile at the thought. I wish I could talk to Vera.

I try, sometimes, but she's so busy with baby Henry that she doesn't have time for long, meandering, chatty conversations. When we do try and talk we're usually interrupted by his wails, or demands for feeding or diaper changing. I understand how it is for her at the moment, but as I sit in the bathroom and think of her I wish it was the way it used to be. I wish I could call her now and tell her I need her, knowing she'd drop everything to help me if she possibly could.

I can't talk to my other friends. I shudder just at the thought, and face the truth that although we're friends, I doubt any of them feel enough loyalty to me that they'd be able to hear this juicy gossip and not share it with everyone.

A tear slips down my cheek. How did this happen? How did I go from feeling popular and having a million friends to sitting here in an abandoned bathroom with no one to tell my secrets too?

There's Jasper, I remind myself. I could tell him. I could share the burden of this pregnancy and my unmade decision, and I know he would give me the strength I need to make a choice. But something about it seems wrong, disloyal, to tell Jasper before I tell Royce.

Royce. He's the one I should tell. He's the only other person who's involved. But as more tears run silently down my cheek, I acknowledge that right now I'm frightened to tell him. There's been tension between us, he knows something's not right and he's reacting with aggression. I don't know what he's going to do if I lay this pregnancy in his lap.

He loves you. He does. He loves you. He says so, again and again and again. He'll still love you, even if you tell him this, even if he's angry. He loves you.

Maybe if I say it often enough I'll believe it.

I take out my phone and go to the calendar, scrolling through the dates, counting the weeks. Again, I count the weeks and then count forward to December, to the due date. I have to decide, and in the end it doesn't matter who I might talk to, or who might want to help me through this decision. In the end it's all down to me. My womb, my baby…I have the privilege and the responsibility of choice, and finally I know what I'm going to do.

I stare at myself in the mirror, seeing what I always see- the perfect face and golden blonde mane of hair that have defined me for so many people – but this time I see more. This time I'm seeing someone's mother.

My hand tentatively touches my belly. I know that the baby is still tiny and I can't possibly feel it yet, but I lay my hands over it anyway, imagining that little jellybean with its fast, fluttering heartbeat that I saw at the clinic. Or maybe it's grown some legs and arms now, I don't know. But I'm going to find out.

I'm going to have a baby.