Chapter 20
Then
Positive! NO! It couldn’t be.
We only had unprotected sex one time—the first time we had sex.
And I got pregnant? I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Once I told Tammy that I still hadn’t started my period and hadn’t started my birth control, that’s when it hit me—us.
Our eyes widened, and we ran to the drugstore.
My hand trembled as I stood with the stick in my hand, staring down at the plus sign.
Tammy was talking, but I couldn’t hear her.
I was in such shock.
What were my parents going to say? What would Scott say? What would Michael say?
“Jill? Jill, talk to me.
What are you going to do?”
“Ah…Oh, God.
I can’t believe this.
I never even got a chance to use the birth control pills.
How could I have been so stupid for this to happen?”
Tammy braced my shoulders, forcing me to look at her.
“Jill, it takes two to make a baby.
Why didn’t Michael use a condom the first time?”
“He was out…and things were happening so fast.”
Everything was crashing down.
I no longer looked at our first sexual encounter as a romantic, heat-of-the-moment, epic love, world-changing, heart-stopping happenstance.
It was world-changing, alright, but in an entirely different direction.
“Are you going to tell your mom?”
“Should I tell Michael first?”
I was looking at Tammy for answers.
“How do you think he’ll take it?”
“I don’t know.
Michael has never even said he loves me.
He loves sex but has never said the actual words to me.
Even after I told him I loved him.”
I walked over to the bed and threw myself down.
“Oh, God, what’s my father going to say? No one knows I’m seeing Michael.
That makes things worse.
And he’s ten years older than me.”
“Well, at least he has a good job.
He already has his master’s degree.
He’ll be able to support you and the baby.”
“He doesn’t even like marriage.
He’s made some derogatory remarks about it.”
I rolled over and covered my head with the pillow.
“Tammy, what am I going to do?” I cried.
She rubbed my back with loving caresses as I cried into the pillow.
How I wished I could go back in time.
Stop everything and make Michael wait.
But would he have waited for me?
“I think you should tell Michael first.
It’s his baby, too, and then you both can decide together.
You made this baby together; you’ll solve it together.”
The more she said baby and ours and together, my heart softened a bit, and the other side of reality flittered inside me.
Michael and I had made a baby.
We were going to be parents.
And this would be something that would forever connect us.
Would this make him love me? Would he be able to say the words? I still loved him, and even with this tragedy, I think it made me love him even more.
“You’re right.
I’ll tell Michael tonight,”
I said and sat up.
She wiped my tears; that was the first time Tammy kissed my cheek.
We hugged; even if I didn’t have Michael, I would always have Tammy.
. . . . .
I was sitting on the couch, biting my nails, and waiting for Michael to come home from work.
Everything felt different than it had been when I’d been waiting in the past.
I’d be scared one minute and feared how this would all go when I told him.
The next minute, I’d be elated with happy thoughts of Michael and I becoming a family.
Our little family and I would feel a smile forming on my lips. I started to picture baby stuff lying around—toys, bottles, blankets, and diapers. I saw Michael on the floor, cooing baby talk to our child. Would he want a boy or a girl? I had already formed a happy-ever-after story, but it would depend on Michael. And that was my first mistake.
He came through the door, and the look on my face stopped him in his tracks.
I saw the fear in his eyes like he already knew.
But he couldn’t have.
Only Tammy knew, and she wouldn’t tell a soul.
“What’s wrong, Jill? Have we been found out?”
That’s what his look was for—fear that someone had seen us together.
But I was not too fond of that look either.
Maybe if he looked as if he was glad—we didn’t have to hide it anymore.
But it wasn’t.
And what I had to say wouldn’t make it any better.
“I’m…pregnant, Michael.”
He didn’t move from the door.
It was still open, and I feared he’d run out and never return. “What!”
“I took a pregnancy test this morning.
It’s positive.”
Finally, thank God, he shut the door and covered his face. “Fuck!”
That is what he said.
Fuck.
Not, ‘We’ll make it work.
It’ll be okay.
I’m going to take responsibility for our baby.’ Nope. Just fuck.
I began to cry harder, and he never came to comfort me.
I needed him, and he never came.
“Michael, what are we going to do?”
I needed him to answer.
I needed him to hold me.
“I thought you said you’d go to Planned Parenthood.”
“I did.
That’s where I got the birth control pills.
We got pregnant the first time.”
“Oh no.
Not we.
You got pregnant.
You should have prepared for this.”
He was preaching at me as if it was all my fault.
Was it? Did I seduce him? No more than he seduced me with his kiss and mixed signals—which turned out to be signals that he did want me.
“You said you’d go to Planned Parenthood.
I took that as you’d get an abortion if you got pregnant.
After that, I took on the responsibility of using condoms until you got on the pill.”
“But, Michael?”
“Don’t but Michael me.
Have the abortion, and I’ll pay for it.
That’s me still being responsible.”
My anger rose, and I stood from the couch and began screaming.
“You’re the responsible one? You’re an adult.
Twenty-seven years old, Michael.
I’m only seventeen.”
“What the hell does that mean? Is it all my fault? You’re nothing but a fucking prick tease.
Flaunting your sweet ass around me like candy.
What the hell did you think I’d do?”
How dare he.
But he was right.
I did flaunt myself.
I did want him to notice me.
This fight was when it all began, and Michael instilled doubt in my head. “Stop it. I loved you. I still love you, Michael.”
I was crying and screaming my love for him.
But his never came for me.
“Jill, sex isn’t love.
It’s just fucking and having a good time.
Don’t confuse it.”
I fell to my knees, waiting for him to pick me up and apologize.
I’d be waiting for a long time.
He stomped past me, and I heard the bedroom door slam.
Even though I knew all this was not good, I was relieved he didn’t storm out and drive away.
But it was his place, and it meant I was to leave.
I slowly got up and looked at the apartment door, then his bedroom door.
Two doors, two choices.
Either door I chose would alter my life forever, and I picked the wrong door.
I walked to his bedroom door and cracked it open.
He was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Part of me felt sorry for ruining his day.
I used to be the reason for the bright smile on his face, but it wasn’t exactly like I was having a grand time.
I would spend the next few years convincing myself that I could make him happy again, and my happiness would sit on the shelf.
I waited for him to tell me to come in.
I expected him to look at me and hold out his hand, and I’d come to lay on his chest.
He did turn his head and glanced at me.
We stared into each other’s eyes, and I saw an entirely different person.
What had happened to us in the last month? We used to be glued to each other. We used to laugh and sing and kiss each other. Would we ever get it back? Or did it end here?
“Michael?”
I whispered.
He turned his head away, and I knew what it meant.
There were no more mixed signals.
He didn’t want his baby or me.
It was clear. I was on my own, and before I walked away and shut his door, I said, “I’m at least going to ask my mom.”
I needed to hear him say one thing, just one thing before I left.
“About the abortion? Jill, don’t tell her.
It will just disrupt everyone.
It only needs to concern us.”
For once, he had included himself.
“Maybe she’ll think I should give the baby up for adoption.”
“But then she’ll still know.
You say you love me, right?”
His question gave me hope when he asked.
“Yes, Michael, I do.”
“Then don’t tell anyone.
I could get in so much trouble with you only being seventeen.
I could lose my job.
My career would be over.”
Guilt is a powerful motivator, and he was right.
Either way, he would need his job, especially if I had the baby.
“Well, I’m going to tell her.
I have no choice.
She won’t want me to have an abortion.”
“What about you? You’ll be eighteen soon, and you can make your own choice.
This baby is going to affect you too, Jill.”
We were having a real conversation now, discussing it out loud.
“Why can’t we keep the baby—raise it together? You have a good job.”
“Jill, I didn’t work hard to get a good job.
I want a career—a future.
I never saw or planned marriage or kids in it.
If you tell your parents and keep the baby, I’m going to have to marry you.”
My heart stopped.
Michael was giving us options.
He was considering marriage—and me and our baby.
Sure, even though he said, ‘have to marry,’ we could get back to us again.
It would be the same. He would see that. I would be the best wife ever. And I would be a great mother—mother to his child.
“I’m going to tell her,”
I said and left his apartment.
. . . . .
There I stood at the justice of the peace, holding Michael’s hands and looking into his eyes.
His left eye was black from where Scott had punched him.
All the commotion of the last few weeks would be worth it once they pronounced us husband and wife, and I’d be Jill Danforth.
Dad told me how ashamed he was of me and that I should go live with his sister and come back after I gave the baby up.
Mom cried for hours, saying how she wanted so much more for me—not to end up like her. Was she not happy with us—Dad, Scott, and me? Scott and Michael were no longer friends. And the only people at my courthouse wedding were Tammy and Ryan as I stood in my best dress—not white or even a wedding. Mom said it wouldn’t be proper since I was pregnant. We had all taken the day off school, and Michael took a half day from work. Afterward, he would drop me off at the apartment and return to work. How romantic.
We were officially man and wife, with no rings.
Michael said it was just a piece of paper, and rings were unnecessary.
But I still wanted one.
When the lady said, “You may kiss the bride,”
Michael gave a quick peck on my lips, and I stood there with my eyes closed, thinking there would be more.
I was wrong.
Tammy hugged me, and we left the courthouse, and that was it.
I was married…and I was Michael’s wife.
Somehow, I thought it would feel differently.
He dropped me off at our apartment and went back to work.
Tammy stayed and helped me unpack my stuff.
I didn’t have much to add that would dress it up.
Because let’s face it.
I was a teenager, and my décor was posters, shoes, and purses. And even then, I didn’t have much. But I was determined to make Michael a good wife—and I was going to have his baby. Maybe someday, he’d love us.
Nighttime came, and Michael still wasn’t home.
Tammy left hours ago, thinking we’d want to be alone.
The dinner I prepared, chicken cacciatore, was now cold, and the candles melted away.
I couldn’t drink the wine and drown my sorrows because I was pregnant.
I cried and went to bed—alone.
A loud crash awakened me, and the sound of Michael hollering.
“Honey, I’m home.”
His words slurred, and he was yelling at something he fell over.
I sat in bed, waiting for him to enter the bedroom.
Finally, he appeared, and he reeked of smoke and alcohol.
“Ah, there she is.
My little wife.”
His eyes were half-closed, half-opened.
“Where have you been?”
My voice had anger, but I kept it low.
He struggled to get his clothes off, and I got up to help.
He fell, and we both went to the floor.
“I was celebrating,”
he slurred.
“Celebrating?”
“Yup.
Guys gave me a bachelor party.
And now I’m so fucking horny.
Man, there was this stripper, and she was so fucking hot.”
He laughed between his words, and I tried to push him away.
“So, now I want to fuck my wife.
Come here.
Kiss your husband.”
“Get off me,” I yelled.
“Oh, don’t be like that.
You won’t be one of those wives, are you?”
I pushed him away and went to the couch.
I thought he would go to bed, but he came out.
Even in his drunkenness, he picked me up with anger and brought me back to the bedroom.
“Leave me alone, Michael.”
“You wanted to get married? Well, this is marriage, dear.”
He removed his belt with force and threw it across the room.
I crawled up against the headboard and told him to stop.
He removed the rest of his clothes and then came at me.
“Take off your clothes, or I’ll rip them off.”
“NO! Michael, stop it.”
It didn’t matter because, within seconds, he had my T-shirt off, jerked my panties down, and was on top of me.
I held my legs shut, but he pried them open with his knee.
We hadn’t had sex since I told him I was pregnant, and this was going to be the first.
And it was our wedding night.
He was now inside me, and for the first time, I hated it.
He kissed my mouth, and I tasted cigarettes and whiskey.
“You’re a fucking prick tease,”
he said as he rocked in and out of me.
I began to cry, wanting my simple teenage life back.
I would even sacrifice the Michael I knew before to forget this moment.
He came in a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime.
When he satisfied himself, he dropped on top of me and passed out.
As I tried to get out from under him, he puked all over the bed.
I went to the couch and curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth, and cried uncontrollably.
I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. But I was now committed to the drunk, passed-out man in the bedroom—my husband.