Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
NOAH
The girls haven’t started practicing on Saturdays with us, so Allie isn’t at the gym this morning.
I can’t help but laugh when I try to imagine how her confrontation with her parents went yesterday.
I’m suddenly glad my folks are in Florida because I’m one hundred percent certain that if Allie’s parents told them what they were doing, my mom and dad would have followed suit.
Now that I’m grown up I’ve discovered my parents are much different without kids at home than they were when Lorelai and I were still around.
Practice goes well except for a little dust up between Decan and Jordan. Jordan knocked into Decan and Decan went after his teammate like he’d declared war. Now that I know their tension has nothing to do with basketball, I’ll have to do my best to keep them apart until things are worked out.
During the last five minutes of practice, a stylish couple who are probably no more than ten years older than me walks into the gym. Neither looks particularly happy to be there. But instead of making their presence known, they sit on the bleachers to wait.
At twelve on the dot, I blow my whistle and end training. Then I approach the newcomers. “You must be Jordan’s parents. I’m Coach Riley.”
They both nod their heads curtly as Jordan’s father says, “I’m Doug and this is my wife, Carley.”
Their son warily crosses the gym in our direction. When he reaches us, I suggest, “Why don’t we go into my office where we’ll have more privacy.”
“Why do we need privacy?” Jordan’s mom wants to know. “We don’t even know why we’re here.”
“Mom, please.” Jordan takes her arm and starts walking. “I’ll tell you once we’re in Coach’s office.”
I lead them across the gym floor and down the steps near the exit. Instead of turning right into the locker room, we turn left. Once we’re inside, I shut the door and hurry to grab another folding chair that’s leaning against the wall.
Jordan and his parents sit down and look at me expectantly. “I think I’ll let Jordan start,” I tell them which causes Doug and Carley to turn their attention toward their son.
“What’s this about, Jordan?” Doug demands.
I can tell my student would probably rather run into oncoming traffic than tell them, so I’m exceptionally proud of him when he admits, “I’m in trouble.”
“What have you done?” his mom asks, sounding alarmed.
“I … um … that is to say …” He finally stops talking and inhales deeply like he’s been underwater for five minutes and has just come up for air. On the exhale, he tells them, “Margie is pregnant.”
“What?!” his parents ask in unison.
“It’s not yours, is it?” This from his mother.
“It is.”
I finally understand the term “deafening silence.” The lack of sound is almost painful. Clearing my throat, I announce, “Jordan was hoping you might be willing to talk about the options.”
“What options?” his dad asks before deciding, “Margie is going to have to have an abortion. We’ll pay for it.” He points his finger aggressively at his son and adds, “And you’ll pay us back.”
“Margie doesn’t want an abortion, Dad,” Jordan tells him.
Carley stands up abruptly but seemingly realizes she can’t pace in a room this small, so she sits back down and starts tapping her foot against the floor.
It’s like she’s trying to send a message in Morse code through the earth’s core to China.
“She can’t want to keep the baby! She’s only a child herself. ”
“All I know is that she doesn’t want an abortion,” Jordan tells them.
“What would it even look like if she kept the baby?” his mom shrieks. Turning to her husband, she demands, “What would people think if our grandchild was being raised by his single teenage mother in this little town?”
“Mom, Dad,” Jordan interjects. “This is Margie’s decision, not mine. As much as I feel like I should have some say-so, it’s her body.”
“This is so … so …” Carley finally settles on the word, “Trashy. You were not raised like this, Jordan. I’m ashamed of you.”
“I don’t know how we’re going to face our friends,” his dad finally adds.
The Hollises’ reaction isn’t supportive like I had hoped. While I can understand they’re shell-shocked by this news, I can only hope that in time they’ll come around.
“Do you want to be part of your grandchild’s life?” I ask them.
“I … well … I mean …” Poor Carley is sputtering on overdrive. “My grandchild!” she exclaims. “I’m too young to be a grandmother!”
“Be that as it may,” I tell her, “that’s what appears to be on the horizon. It might help you deal with things to accept that a baby is going to be entering the picture. Your son’s child.”
Carley’s eyes fill with tears, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t ones of joy. “Do Margie’s parents know?”
Jordan looks at his feet while nodding his head. Then he tells them, “A lot of people know.”
“How?” His dad’s alarm is clear.
With a shrug, Jordan tells him, “Once Margie’s family found out, other people heard the news too.” With surprising fortitude, Jordan finally looks his parents in the eye. “I’m not happy about this, but I don’t know what to do. I was hoping you guys might help me.”
“I don’t know how we can do that if Margie won’t get an abortion,” Doug states plainly.
“I want to talk about what my life will look like if Margie has the baby,” Jordan says. “For instance, will I still be able to go to college or will I have to get a job so I can support them?”
“I’m guessing Margie’s parents will help her care for it, so they probably won’t come after you for much money,” his mom decides. “At least at first.”
“That’s the thing …” Jordan says. “Margie’s parents say that if she has the baby she has to move out of their house and figure out how to support it. They want nothing to do with it.”
“That’s pretty cold,” Doug says, not seeing the irony of his statement. But then he decides, “I imagine Nathan and Holly are having as hard of a time accepting this as we are.”
“They’re being pretty awful,” Jordan says. “I was hoping we could all get together and try to figure some things out.”
Carley does not look very welcoming of that idea. “I think you and Margie need to talk first.” It’s clear she’s hoping Margie will agree to an abortion, so they don’t have to get involved further.
“We do need to talk,” Jordan tells her. “But we also need to hear what, if any, support our parents are going to offer us.”
“I’m not paying child support for your kid,” Doug declares heatedly.
“I’ve raised my children,” Carley says like she’s hammering another nail in Jordan’s coffin.
“So, Margie and I are completely on our own?”
I don’t know why I thought Jordan’s parents would handle things better than Margie’s. That certainly does not appear to be the case, and I feel terrible for him.
“You made your bed,” Carley tells her son.
“So, no college.” Jordan doesn’t sound sad as much as unbelieving that this is his circumstance.
“Not if you have a kid to raise,” his dad tells him.
I briefly wonder if Tony DeMarco went through a similar situation when Ellie got pregnant. At least the two of them were on the same page and were there to support each other.
Doug stands up abruptly. “If that’s all we’re here for …”
Carley joins him. “Jordan, are you coming home with us?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Not yet. I have a lot to think about.”
Without so much as a farewell, Jordan’s parents walk out of the room. Once the door shuts, I tell him, “I was hoping that would go better.”
“You and me, both,” he says. “I don’t know what to do now. I don’t even have a job. I suppose I’ll have to quit basketball and get one.”
“Why don’t you and Margie talk first,” I suggest. “You said that you hadn’t discussed adoption yet. If you put the baby up for adoption, then you can stay on the team and go to college like you planned.”
“I don’t know if she even wants to talk to me,” Jordan says. “It’s been a couple of weeks.”
“Call her. See if she can meet you somewhere so the two of you can make some decisions.”
Jordan rests his head in his hands. “She’s pretty mad at the way I’ve dealt with things. And honestly, I don’t blame her.”
“It sounds like she’s as alone as you are. I’m guessing she wants to talk to you.”
“I don’t suppose you could be there, too?” He sounds so hopeful.
“I wouldn’t be comfortable unless there was another woman present,” I tell him. Then I have an idea. “Call Margie and see if she can meet you at Rosemary’s tomorrow at two. I’m meeting Coach Rogers there.”
“Do you think she’ll mind?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “Coach Rogers is a very caring woman. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help.” And while I expect this will be true, I also know I’d better give her a heads up.
Jordan pulls out his phone and stares at it like it’s a two-headed cobra. He eventually makes a call, and when it’s answered, he says, “Margie, it’s Jordan. We need to talk.”
I walk out of the room to give him some privacy. I feel for both Jordan and Margie. I’m sure a situation like this is hard enough even when you have your family’s backing, but doing it on your own must be unbearably scary.
Taking my own phone out of my pocket, I place a call of my own. Unfortunately, it goes into voicemail. “Allie,” I say. “I’ve sort of roped you into something and I hope you don’t mind …”