"You'll never guess what's going on."
The newsie dropped his arm, newspaper clenched in his fist. Selling wasn't going well today. Hell, it wasn't going at all. "Yer right. So why don'tcha just tell me, eh"
"Socks, ya know her"
"Of course I do…"
"She's pregnant."
"Shut the hell up. How do you know"
"Heard her talkin' about it last night."
"Jesus Christ. And the father, it's Davey"
"As far as I know—but you know how those girls play around."
"Yeah, yeah. Jeez. Pregnant?"
"You heard me."
It was just another Tuesday morning for Socks O'Connor. She rolled out of bed, stumbled half asleep to the distribution center, collected her daily supply of papers, and headed to her usual selling spot: a sunny patch of sidewalk adjacent to Central Park, where she could watch the skeletons of the trees dance as the winter wind swirled through them.
And that was where all normality ceased.
Just as she began to shout out the pitiful headline, someone seized Socks' elbow, causing her to turn and investigate, green eyes sparkling with irritation.
"Socks! Thank God I found ya. I just heard." Cyanne Colpitts, out of breath and cheeks pink from the cold air, had an alarming expression of concern on her face.
"Heard?" Socks shook off the other girl's hand from her arm with a frown. "What are you talking about"
"Come on, Socksie, you don't need to play dumb with me" Cyanne said, a knowing smile flashing across her face. She reached out to pat Socks' flat stomach. "So, when are you due?"
Socks' jaw dropped the moment she realized just what exactly her friend was implying. Good lord, the girl thought she was pregnant. Trying to choke down a surprised chuckle, she shook her head. "Oh, Cyanne, I'm not—"
"Oh, say no more. I know you don't want this spread around…won't tell a soul." Cyanne placed a hand over her heart and winked at her before disappeared into the crowd, leaving a very confused Socks standing alone on the sidewalk.
Pregnant?
She laughed again, though this time it sounded somewhat hysterical, and raised her arm to wave the paper wildly over her head, determined to concentrate on doing her job rather then the strange dialogue that had just occurred. Besides, she didn't have time for shit like that, for God's sake. Pregnant. Please. Who'd believe something as ridiculous as that?
By the time 3:00 rolled around, the bizarre conversation Socks had had with Cyanne that morning was ringing loudly in her ears, despite all attempts to banish it from her brain. She had brushed it off at first, attributing Cyanne's odd words to her free-flying imagination, convincing herself they were no more then a strange fantasy or a practical joke, most likely. However, as morning turned to afternoon and ominous clouds crowded the already gray sky, Socks was having second thoughts. Every person she greeted on her way back to the Lodging House appraised her with a wide-eyed and curious gaze, much to her surprise and frustration. As she entered the girls bunkroom, Socks was so preoccupied with trying to decipher what was the matter that she failed to see Bittah standing right in front of her, arms crossed over her chest, a scowl affixed to her face.
"Socks" she began, but Socks interrupted, in no mood to have yet another peculiar conversation she could sense was coming.
"Where's David?"
Bittah shrugged slightly. "I dunno, no one's here but me. Listen—"
"No" retorted Socks simply, pushing by her and heading towards her bunk. Bittah followed, determined to unearth the truth... or at least get all the juicy details.
"I just want you to know that I heard, and I…" she paused to watch Socks pull on a threadbare jacket and rake hair out of her face with her fingers"…I can't believe you, Socks. Honestly. You, of all people. I thought you would be the one who wouldn't fuck up."
Socks sent a chilling glare in Bittah's direction, but didn't stop moving. She had more important things to do then stand there and receive a lecture on morals from Bittah, of all people.
Without a word to the other girl, who was still standing with arms crossed over her chest and a disappointed expression on her freckled face, Socks hurried out the door, on her way to the one place she was convinced David had to be: Tibby's.
He wasn't there. Socks looked around once more from her station by the doorway. The investigation only proved to her again what she was trying desperately to deny. David Jacobs was not at Tibby's. Uttering an exasperated sigh, she walked toward the corner table, toward the usual crowd of familiar faces that were sitting there, packed in like sardines.
"…And I also heard that she don't even know if Dave is really the father"
Snippets of conversation slid into Socks' ears like poison. Arriving at the table so quietly that barely anyone took notice, save Illusion and Gypsy, who immediately shut their mouths and lowered their eyes, Socks waited a moment, then slammed her palms down on the stained wooden table, causing a surprised silence to fall over the assembled.
"Where…is…David." She said, each word heavy and threatening. When no one answered right away, Socks let out a frustrated sigh. "Am I speaking Chinese? Where is he?"
Mush Meyers cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to watch him expectantly. "He ah…well, he ran off a little after noon…said he had important things to do" He said carefully, before glancing at Socks and shrugging. "Haven't heard from him since. Sorry."
Murmurs of hesitant agreement sounded from the around the table. No one had seen David since right after lunch. He had hurried off, looking like he had seen a ghost. Or maybe it was visions of his future children that had turned his face such a terrible shade of white?
"You feeling okay, Socks?" Someone asked, the ridiculing tone unmistakable. Around the booth, laughter was choked down. "You know, a woman in your condition ought to be lying down…right?" Tommy Dugan leaned forward, peering at Socks with an expression of innocence on his ruddy face.
"I—I—" Socks stammered, feeling her cheeks get hot, a rush of anger and humiliation flooding her veins. As hard as she tried, no words would come out of her mouth, and she was stuck standing before the table opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish. A few people chuckled slightly, but most just stared, unsure of what to do or say. This was their friend, after all. They should be sympathetic or…at least take pity on her.
No, scratch that. It was her own fault she got intosuch amess. Everyone knew that babies didn't just pop into someone's stomach like magic. Sure,maybe the exact science of it allwas a little fuzzy, but everyone knew the basics. Slowly, unsure gazes turned to ones filled with disappointment, criticism, and disdain. It was her own fault. Who was stupid enough to let themselves get pregnant, of all things?
What a way to ruin your life.
Choking back confused sobs, Socks turned and fled out of the restaurant, her hair flying behind her like an auburn flag. Tommy Dugan looked around the table cautiously before speaking again. "Jeez...alls I did was ask a question. Touchy girl."
She had just begun to shove her spare outfit into the filthy carpet-bag she had found in a trash heap months before, thinking it might be handy someday when she wanted to get away from everything, when she heard the bunkroom door open.
Wonderful.
Socks did not turn around. She had just gotten back to normal, after that ridiculous emotional fit that had snuck up on her in Tibby's. No way was some jackass she had until very recently considered a friend going to make her lose her cool again, not a chance. Shaking her head, she focused on trying to shut the bag that sat before her on the bed, refusing to close, taunting her with that wide open mouth, overflowing with clothes and other various things. Since when did she have so much goddamn stuff?
"Lily?"
There was only one person who called her by her real name. There was only one person who she would let call her her real name. Hell, that was one of the reasons she loved him so much. He was different. David Jacobs did not have the street oozing out of every action he did, every word he said. He was interested in more then just finding a dark and isolated alleyway so they could be alone. David was going to be something, go somewhere in life. And Socks loved him for it.
No dumb nicknames for him, either. Just the straight truth. David didn't have any reason to run from his past, and what's more, he didn't care if Socks O'Connor did or not.
When Socks refused to turn around, afraid that the tears welling up in her eyes would scare David away, he reached up and took hold of her arm, turning her around himself. "Lily..."
"No" she muttered, wrenching away from his grasp and walking across the room, determined to put some space between them, thinking that maybe that might make things easier.
"Look, Lily, before you say anything…" David followed her resolutely, hands reaching out for her. God, this was hard. So hard. But the right thing to do.
All of a sudden, he was down on one knee, clutching Socks' hands in his own trembling one. She stared at him, mouth agape. Surely, he wasn't…
"Lillian Elizabeth Christine O'Connor, will you marry me?" The words spilled out from David's lips. They sounded practiced. He looked up at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. Any answer. God. Waiting was the worst part.
"David, I—"
"I know we're young," he interrupted, rising to his feet but still holding tightly to Socks' hands, "but I love you and…I want this baby to have a family and a home. I'm doing the right thing here, Lily. We're doing the right thing. Marry me. I'll give you a good life. I will…or at least, I'll try to. I'll try."
God, David thought, those eyes. They gave nothing away. What he wouldn't give to have just a glimpse, a fleeting look, at what was going on up in that head of hers. The silence that his speech was met with was quickly becoming unbearable. Did she think this was easy? Jesus, was she beginning to cry?
She was. The tears dripped down her cheeks unbidden and unwanted. Lord, she hated to cry.
"David, I'm not pregnant. I swear. I don't know how that got started.I'm not pregnant."
"What?"