MONTH THREE
(MOTHER GOOSE)
"Abbey, are you listening Abbey?"
My attention turned, slowly from the window that overlooked the car park where I was exchanging daring looks from a senior standing at his car. My dead eyes looked back at his hungry eyes. Fire to warm up the cold of the darkness; a perfect match.
"As I was saying Abbey, the school is advising that you take classes for expectant mothers and those already with children. The program helps to set you up for, well let's say the unexpected. Just because your body is set up to produce a child and give birth doesn't necessarily mean that you will know what to do when it comes to caring for your newly born. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yep" I replied, the emotion in my voice completely flat. I turned back to look out the window but of course the boy was already walking off with another easy target. Insulted wasn't the word I would use to describe my mood at that moment. It was more impatient as I waited to be able to go outside again and find some guy that would for five to twenty minutes pretend that he cared about me.
So far this pregnancy thing was boring me more than I had already been previously.
It wasn't as if I had no respect for my teachers, fellow peers and myself, because I did. My actions were simple; life is boring without making it enjoyable. Following the rules all your life, being praised by everyone you know and finally becoming a somebody, wasn't my idea of fun. Some people might say that I had a serious complex and just didn't want to follow the rules.
"So instead of participating in physical education I think it would be safer for both you and your child to attend the 'young mothers' sessions."
"Ok"
The principal, a man with few grey hairs left and more wrinkles than an elephant, smiled. His crooked nose turned it into some kind of ghastly Picasso piece. Whenever I looked at his face all I could picture was Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street. This was what young teenagers nightmares were made of. Horror movies plus a comforting guy equals sex. If only teachers could really make math that simple. But then what would my equation be? Irresponsibility plus easy chick plus guy equals sex plus time equals pregnancy?
I expected 'young mothers' to be full of screaming babies and mothers who didn't give a shit. I expected the door to be moulding, perhaps even off its hinges. As for the paint, I expected it to be yellow and peeling. The colour yellow apparently makes babies cry more. Guess it's too happy for them too.
However upon approaching the class room I realised that not a sound came from the room. Was I even in the right place? I walked to the door and looked inside. A pair of eyes met mine and smiled. The eyes of a baby.
"Oh hello, you must be Abbey. I'm Charlotte, and this is Christopher"
I looked up to the hand that held the baby named Christopher. A girl sat with him in her lap, smiling at me a way no one had ever smiled before. I tried to smile back but failed. I walked into the room and took a seat.
"This is Young Mothers" she said looking around the room and laughing. "Not much of a program. Most girls drop out when they become pregnant. But I want something more for my Christopher here. The teachers don't bother to show up so don't be too concerned with coming up if you don't want to"
I looked back to her child and smiled. His eyes resembled those of his mothers while his boyish looks belonged somewhere else; obviously his father.
It would have been easy just to stand up and leave the room. To turn my back on 'Young Mothers' and Charlotte. But for some reason I didn't. Maybe I was bored.