Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ALLIE
I try to walk into my apartment quietly, so I don’t disturb Margie in case she’s already gone to sleep.
One glance across the room and I see that isn’t the case.
My roommate is sitting up with her knees tucked under her chin in a very contemplative pose.
“Hey you, did you have a nice night with Decan and Leah?” I ask.
She looks up from whatever it was that previously occupied her attention. Although, if I was to guess, I’d say she was more lost in her head than anything else. “We did have fun. Thank you so much for everything, Allie.”
“You need to quit thanking me and just accept that for now, I’m here to help.”
“I love it here,” she says. “But I miss being home. I miss being part of my family.”
I drop my purse on the counter and join her in the living room. Then I sit down beside her. “I totally get that. One day everything was normal, and the next …”
She interrupts before I can finish my sentence. “I was pregnant.”
“Yeah.” We sit silently for a few minutes before I ask, “Have you thought anymore about putting your baby up for adoption?”
“I have.”
“And?” I ask, not so much wanting to be intrusive as to be a shoulder for her to lean on.
“I can’t imagine having a baby and not ever getting to know her. Do you know what I mean?”
“I can understand that.” And while I wasn’t in her situation, I remember every due date of my pregnancies.
I imagine what the babies might have looked like, and I even try to picture what they’re doing in heaven.
Are they together? Are they friends? Have they chosen to incarnate into somebody else and become someone else’s children?
I possess a torturous list of questions that I try very hard not to let surface.
What I can’t imagine is having a baby and then giving it up to some unknown future. The thought must tear Margie apart.
“Do you know who Kristin Chenoweth is?” she asks me.
“Everyone who has ever heard of Wicked knows who she is.” I add my two cents, “While Ariana Grande was great in the movie, Kristin Chenoweth is the epitome of Glenda the Good Witch.”
“She was adopted,” Margie tells me.
I kick off my shoes and put my stocking feet up on the coffee table before wrapping myself in the throw draped over the back of the couch. “I didn’t know that.”
“When she was five days old. She celebrates her gotcha day every year.” Margie hurries to explain, “You know, the day she was adopted by her parents.”
“That’s cool,” I tell her. “She’s turned out pretty great, hasn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Margie says. “But I wonder what her birth mom would think if she knew what became of the daughter she gave away.”
“I bet she’d be proud,” I tell her.
“I bet she’d be devastated,” Margie declares.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because she lost out on the chance to raise such an amazing human.”
“But what if Kristin Chenoweth never became a big star had she stayed with her birth mother? What if her birth mother couldn’t have afforded to help her pursue her dreams?”
“It isn’t really the fact that she’s a star that matters. I guess that just makes her story more visible for people like me to speculate about.” She explains, “I think her mom would be upset that she gave birth to such an amazing person and she never got to tell her how much she loves her.”
Poor Margie is really putting herself through it, but I suppose there’s no other way. Giving your baby up for adoption is a huge deal. “But you can keep your baby, Margie. And tell her every day how much you love her. Once she gets here, she will be your world.”
Margie bursts into tears. So much for comforting her. “She already is my world,” she says. “All I think about is how I’ll be able to keep a roof over her head and food in her mouth. Even if I buy all her clothes at garage sales, I have no idea how I’ll be able to afford everything else.”
“Jordan legally has to help,” I remind her.
“You mean the guy who’s off to look at colleges like there’s nothing to worry about? The one who gets to move on and have a life while I sacrifice mine?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “That guy. But I’m sure once the baby comes, your parents and his will be unable to keep from falling in love with their grandchild.”
“I’m not sure why you think that,” she says. “There’s no way I can do this on my own.” She’s quiet for a long time before adding, “I had an idea, but I don’t really know how to bring it up.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“What if I want to know my baby but I don’t want to be her mom?”
My eyes narrow like I’m trying to solve the New York Times crossword puzzle in German. And, this just in—I don’t speak German. “I’m not sure how that would work,” I tell her.
“It’s called open adoption,” she says. “I’ve been doing a lot of research, and it essentially means that I would put my baby up for adoption, but the parents would send me pictures and maybe even let me see her once in a while.”
I have heard of that, and I’m surprised I didn’t think to mention it to Margie. “What would the baby call you?” I ask.
“Margie, I guess.”
“Wouldn’t that be hard for you?” I can’t imagine visiting my child without having any say in how they’re being raised.
“I don’t think it would be any harder than giving her up and never knowing what happened to her.” Margie wraps her arms around a throw pillow and holds it tightly.
“Then I definitely think you should consider it,” I say.
“I want to have a life, Allie.” She starts to cry again.
“I want to apply to colleges. I want to become an actress like Kristin Chenoweth. I know I’ll love this baby …
” —she sobs loudly before continuing—“but I don’t want to resent her.
I don’t want to look at her as a constant reminder of how my life ended before it even started. ”
“You don’t have to decide today,” I tell Margie. “This is a big decision, but I’m glad you’re thinking about it. That shows a lot of maturity.”
Margie momentarily buries her head into the pillow she’s holding. Then she lifts it and looks into my eyes. “I want you to adopt my baby, Allie.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, I jolt backwards like I just got hit by a fly ball at the World Series. “What?”
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since you said that you were going to look into adoption.”
“But … you know … I mean … I didn’t …” I’m currently the least articulate woman on the planet. “I didn’t say that so you’d give me your baby.”
“I know you didn’t. But you’ve stepped up to help me in a way that no one else has. You’ve been there for me and that’s meant the world. You are exactly the kind of woman I want for my baby to have as a mother.”
That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me and my head is spinning in circles. I’m full of just about every emotion I could possibly conjure. I feel love, gratitude, trepidation, and sadness. The inside of my brain is like a Category 5 hurricane.
“You could be the mom you’ve always wanted to be,” she says quietly. “And maybe I could be like an aunt to the baby. That is if you wouldn’t mind having an open adoption.” She looks at me with such hopeful eyes, I feel my heart break.
She is offering me everything right now, yet I don’t know what to say to her. “I would have to think about it,” I tell her honestly. “I’m still wrapping my head around adopting on my own.”
“But you will think about it?” she wants to know.
“I promise you, I’ll think of little else. You just have to make sure this is what you really want.” I confess, “I’ve had a lot of loss and I’m not sure I could take it if you changed your mind.”
Margie scoots across the couch so she’s sitting right next to me. Putting her head on my shoulder, she tells me, “I won’t change my mind. I’m not ready to give up my dreams for a baby, but I really do want to know her.”
“She could be a boy,” I tell her. “We’ve both been calling her a girl, but that might not be the case.”
“Whatever it is,” Margie replies, “I want to love this baby, but I don’t want to be the only person who feels real responsibility for it. That’s more than I can handle on my own.”
“What if you and the baby kept living with me after she’s born? What if you could stay here until you were ready to be on your own?” I’m not sure I mean this as a real offer, but I might. More than anything, I want to know that Margie really doesn’t want to be this baby’s mother.
“I want to have my own life before becoming a mom,” she says with determination.
“You’d have to get Jordan to sign away rights,” I tell her.
She scoffs loudly. “I’m pretty sure the guy who wants me to have an abortion won’t think twice about giving his kid away.”
“It might be different once the baby arrives,” I say. A tiny flicker of hope starts to burn deep inside me, but I’m terrified to let it grow.
Margie stays firm. “It won’t be. I’ll still be eighteen. My parents will still hate me. And more than anything, I’ll still want a life of my own.”
“What if your parents change their minds and they offer to help support you?” I know it sounds like I’m trying to talk Margie out of this, but if I’m going to get on board with this idea I can’t have any doubts.
“I know my parents, and they won’t change their minds,” she says.
After several moments of silence, I tell Margie, “I have a lot to think about. When are you hoping to have my decision?”
Her mouth forms into the smallest smile. “I was hoping for right now, but I know that’s asking a lot.”
“I won’t make you wait too long,” I tell her. “I know how much courage it’s taken for you to make this decision. But I still want you to talk to both your parents and Jordan about it before we finalize anything.”
I realize that I’m giving her hope by phrasing my response like that, but the truth is that I’m practically doing internal backflips at the thought of adopting Margie and Jordan’s baby. This would be the luckiest child in the world to have both my love and her birth mother’s, as well.
Now all I have to do is affirm my own resolve that I’m prepared to do this on my own. I also have to tell my parents, which won’t be a whole lot of fun. But if I do become a single mother, I’m going to need them by my side.
I help Margie pull out the sofa and make up her bed before heading into my own room. Then I proceed to lie awake most of the night trying to imagine what this whole thing would look like. Try as I might, I can no longer imagine my life without Margie and her baby in it.
Even though I fall asleep with a smile on my face, there’s still a lump of trepidation in my heart.