They sit in the doctor's waiting room, mother and daughter. Melissa notices her mother's lips are still pursed. They've been that way since Melissa told her mother she was pregnant. It's like she's holding something in, something so terrible she can't bring herself to say.
Her mother didn't want Darry with them at the appointment, even when Melissa told her Darry wanted to come. She scheduled it for noon on a Wednesday, and Melissa knew she did it on purpose so Darry would be in school and couldn't go. Melissa's mother blames Darry completely. She might even hate him now.
Melissa's been out of school since she left Friday afternoon. Everyone thinks she has a real bad flu. It's not hard to be convincing, considering she's got her head in the toilet most of the morning and sometimes evenings too. She's learned eating crackers right when she wakes up helps, even though her mom complains about the crumbs in her bed. She drinks a lot of peppermint tea. Her friend Kimberly brings Melissa's assignments every day. She lives in the house directly behind Melissa and sees Darry coming through the terrace doors most nights, but Melissa just told Kimberly that he's trying to avoid her dad. It crossed her mind to say, "My mom's mad at him because he knocked me up," but she stopped herself. Getting it all out in the open is liberating only until everyone starts oppressing you with opinions.
Darry seems to be getting more used to the idea every day. He tells Melissa things like, "My dad knows the foreman of a crew," and "If I work fifty hours a week I should make enough if we get a place downtown." He puts a spin on stuff so as to not scare Melissa. He gets a little annoyed when she says things back like, "You mean if we live in a flea-infested rat hole with no hot water?"
It's in Darry's personality to get used to the idea of having a baby when you're he's just barely turning eighteen. Good old Darry, Melissa thinks. She's not getting used to the idea at all. In fact, every day the situation seems a little bit worse.
Melissa wraps the sleeves of her pale yellow cardigan over her fists, crushing the delicate hemline between her fingers. Her mother puts her hand over Melissa's. "Stop that."Melissa lets the material out of her grip. She looks at her flat-front khaki pants. Her grandmother bought them for her in the city last Christmas. She said they're slimming. Her grandma's real conscious like that. Aware of what everyone thinks. Melissa thinks they make her look like somebody's mother.
How apropos. Melissa laughs into her hand. She masks it into a cough when her mother looks at her sharply. Her mother thinks she's unstable. Melissa cries at the drop of a hat. Melissa asks, 'Didn't you do this when you were pregnant?' Her mother snaps back, 'I wasn't pregnant out of wedlock.'
Melissa doesn't think that once Darry puts a ring on her finger, she'll stop crying.
The doctor is a grim-faced man with salt and pepper hair. It's the first time she's seen him. He has cold hands when he examines her and doesn't apologize. Her old doctor back in Oklahoma City was warm and smelled like dish soap. This guy smells like antiseptic.
The doctor asks her all kinds of questions as he feels her insides. She throws dates at him like it's a quiz she's studied for. He writes nothing down. When he's finished and says she can pull her legs out of the stirrups, he transfers all the notes she's told him to her chart. Melissa thinks he's like those waitresses that don't write anything down when you order. Somehow they just remember what everyone wants, even when you order a hamburger with no onions and extra pickles and fries extra-crispy with tartar sauce, not ketchup.
The doctor fiddles with a small paper wheel with numbers and months on it. She and her mom wait; her mom in a linen pencil skirt and silk blouse, Melissa in a paper gown that tore when she sat up. Finally the doctor looks up and adjusts his glasses on his nose. "December 16," he says without emotion.
Her due date. Melissa feels numb. Her mother's knuckles turn white where she's clutching her purse.
The doctor says, "Due to your circumstance, I'll have the nurse put together a packet that will outline your options."
"Options?"
Melissa barely recognizes her voice. She sounds twelve, not sixteen.
Her mother sits ramrod straight. "Adoption," she says. This to Melissa. To the doctor, she paints on a smile. "Thank you, Doctor Hamilton."
The doctor is pleased, though his smile goodbye shows hints of pity. What a shame. So young and she had to go and spread her legs. The little slut. Melissa wants to shout at him, "My boyfriend is going to marry me!" but she doesn't. She bites her lip so hard she tastes blood.
When the door clicks shut behind the doctor, Melissa turns to her mother. Panicked. She's forgotten the paper gown with the tear in it. "Darry won't want to give the baby up, Mom!"Her mother looks at her as though this is of no consequence to the decision. She hands Melissa her undergarments. "Get dressed, honey."
Melissa obeys. She always does. Her mother has never been strict; always distant. Emotionally unavailable ever since she was a little girl. Daddy's girl. Melissa tells herself that this is no different. In the end, it'll be her and Darry's decision.
The nurse comes in as Melissa is buttoning her blouse and hands her mom a thick envelope. She smiles and in it is the same pity Melissa saw in the doctor's smile. Her mother clutches the envelope as they leave, as if it is a lifeline.
In the car, her mother says, "I know that Darry has won a scholarship to Texas A&M. What a shame for him to miss that opportunity."
Melissa's eyes graze the envelope whose contents tell her all about how to give the baby away. Melissa doesn't even like the baby. She wants to give it away right now. She wouldn't mind, not one little bit. But Darry would.
"Darry won't want to, Mom," she says calmly. She's watching Tulsa go by out the car window. It's finally starting to warm up. It feels like spring, but she still hates Tulsa. This never woulda happened if they hadn't moved from Oklahoma City. Her mom hasn't responded so Melissa says, "Darry's real big on personal accountability, Mom."
Her mom's lips curl into what Melissa can only think of as a sneer. She says, "That's all fine and good for Darry Curtis, but his personal accountability affects your entire life. I'm real big on you having a future, Lissy."
She says "real big" like she's making fun of how Melissa talks. Melissa doesn't care. She leans her forehead against the glass window. Her mom turns up the radio and they ride home in silence.
"Hey lookie here! Darry's made the front page of the sports section...again!"Two-Bit's voice booms through the house and Darry can hear him even from inside the shower with the water turned full blast. He also hears his mother yell, "Two-Bit, not so loud!" His mother always tells them to stop yelling by yelling at them.
Darry steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, stepping by Sodapop who is combing his hair in the mirror. The bathroom door is standing wide open and Darry shivers as a blast of cold air assaults his damp skin.
"I closed this, Soda!" he complains, putting one hand on the door and swinging it.
Soda only shrugs at his own reflection in the mirror. "The mirror kept fogging up so I had to keep it open."Darry stares hard at his younger brother, but he's back in his own little world with his hair. Soda loves his hair. Everyone else loves it, too, and Soda knows how tuff it is. Darry finally relents, letting his whole posture relax before stepping out of the bathroom completely. Before he can get to his bedroom where his pants are waiting, Two-Bit shoves the newspaper in front of his face.
The headline reads, "Five Local Youths Named All-Conference". Underneath is a row of pictures; two boys from Washington, Edison's biggest rival, two from Will Rogers (one of whom Darry recognizes from parties here and there) and him. Darry looks at his picture; it's the standard football picture that the papers use whenever they write an article and need a small mug shot. He's got a cocky grin in it, and he thinks it makes him look conceited. He hadn't meant to smile that way when the photographer was taking the picture, but someone said something (he can't even remember who or what) and he smiled like that. Underneath it said, "Darrel Curtis, Jr., Quarterback," and under that, "Senior, Edison High School."
Normally, Darry'd be flipping cartwheels that he'd been named All-Conference. It's a big deal. Some four hundred football players in the conference and only twenty-six of them are named to the team. Only five from Tulsa and only one from his school. He was on the team last year too, but he isn't all that excited today. His mom calls from the kitchen, "Congratulations, Darry," and his dad claps him on the shoulder and says, "Good job, son." And that's it. Normally there'd be a party in the house. His mom would stop pouring the orange juice and cold cereal and make blueberry pancakes. Or they'd plan a special dinner that night. His dad would whoop around like he was named All-Conference, too, and make a big enough ruckus that his mother would start wondering when the neighbors were going to start calling the police. The ritual of making Darry feel like the most important person on the planet would only start at home and be carried on all through school, where his teachers would announce it in class, maybe the principal would announce it over the PA, and everyone would applaud when he walked into the cafeteria at lunch. Sure, he'd get ribbed by his friends, specifically Paul, but everyone'd be proud of him more or less and he'd go through the whole day with a smile on his face.
Today, it's different. Darry knows why, and it leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The reaction at school will be the same. No one at school knows he's not going to Texas A&M yet. No one at school knows how inconsequential being named All-Conference is right now. But at home, the knowledge is hanging over them like a thick cloud. Darry can't seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard he tries. Darry's dad doesn't want to outright say it, but what does All-Conference matter now?
Two-Bit is confused by the lack of reaction, Darry can tell. He just doesn't care right now. He shoves the paper back at his buddy and stomps into his room.Today Melissa is supposed to come back to school. She was out all last week. She'd told Darry about the doctor's appointment and the due date with a detached professionalism that disturbed Darry. He tried not to let it get to him, but it sorta did. He'll be happy to see Melissa back at school; he feels like maybe something will go back to at least semi-normal. It's been hard to lie to everyone, and people are starting to speculate.
Darry meets her at her locker before first hour, and she at least looks like she's been sick. She's pale and drawn and has circles under her eyes. She's lost weight. When Darry puts his hands on her waist, he can feel her ribs. He doesn't ask if she's okay. He learned that early on. She'll snap at him, "What do you think?" and he'll feel guilty because she'll look like she wants to cry. He tries to be positive and only tells her the stuff that he thinks is good news; like the job opportunity. He's trying to focus now on this alternate future. He's not thrilled by it, not by a long shot, but there isn't much he can do to change it now. The baby's coming whether they like it or not. He doesn't talk to Melissa about the other stuff...the things he's scared of like he doesn't know what happens with things like health insurance once he marries her. His dad and mom say they'll help him figure it out, but he hates not knowing.
He also hates not being able to tell Melissa these things. He walks on eggshells around her now. Their relationship is different, and not really in a good way. Darry hopes that it'll blow over once things start settling down again. Once they get used to the idea and have a firmer grip on what they're doing. He hopes so, but he's not all that optimistic.
Melissa says to him, "Congratulations on making All-Conference." She's distant. Looking at everyone and probably imagining everyone looking at her. It doesn't help with Darry standing right there. When you make the front page of the sports section and everyone sees it while they eat their pancakes, they tend to look at you later on in school. Darry walks her to her first class and when she kisses him goodbye, it's on the cheek. She's listless. It's like she's not even really there. Just a Melissa-shell walking around and her spirit is somewhere else entirely.
Darry doesn't see her the rest of the day, even at lunch. He worries that maybe she's gone home, but Kimberly walks by the table where all the football players hang out and tells him she's just catching up on a lab project for science. Darry feels a little better at least. But only a little.
After school, Darry has a team meeting so he can't go to Melissa's. He wants to; he feels like they just need to talk, although he isn't sure about what. Talking about the baby makes Melissa agitated and snappy, and it doesn't make him feel too hot either. Talking about anything else seems forced and mundane. Darry can't figure it out, but he wants something to change.
By the time he does get over to her house, it's almost dinner time and her mom says they were about to sit down to eat. From beyond the front door if you're tall enough (and Darry is), you can see into the dining room. There's no dinner set out on the table, and no one waiting around as if they're about to eat. Darry knows her mom is lying but he doesn't argue. She's been sore at him ever since Melissa told her she was pregnant. Darry doesn't really blame her; he'd be sore at him, too. He is sort of sick of feeling like it's all his fault, though. Melissa had an equal part in the mistake, but nobody seems to remember that.
TBC...
Thanks to all reviewers!