13. Chloe
CHLOE
I’m ninety-seven percent sure that I’ve figured out what I want to do.
For the past week, I’ve been thinking about every single thing, coming up with every scenario that I could to help me make any decision that I could.
I tried to go through life as if nothing had changed and I wasn’t fighting with myself to make the biggest decision of my life. For the most part I was able to but whenever I wasn’t busy, more thoughts and scenarios popped up.
Liam checked in on me. So did Betty. Both of them asked if I needed anything, including company. As much as I wanted to take up both of them in their offers, I wanted to be alone.
I did occasionally text Liam here and there asking him questions like I did the night of the hockey game. Even though I wanted to be alone, I did want to include Liam in the decision making.
Me being pregnant not only affected my life, it also affected his.
Even though he told me it was my choice, it feels wrong not including him.
So I did.
Now, a whole week later, I’m ninety-seven percent sure I made my decision.
I’m not one hundred percent because there is still some doubt getting sprinkled in.
Stupid three percent of doubt.
Today, though, I’m going to push away that doubt and get that three percent and be confident in my decision.
I will.
The only thing in my way is a phone call with my mom.
In all of my life, I have never been afraid to tell my mom anything. As a teenager, she was the first one to know whenever I had problems with my friends or a boy. She knows almost every single secret that I hold.
But just because I wasn’t afraid of telling her everything as a teenager, that doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid of telling her this.
Leticia Vega may be my best friend at times, but she is still a woman that holds strong values, especially when it comes to getting pregnant out of wedlock.
It was ingrained into my brain from a young age to not have kids unless I was married or in a long committed relationship.
I’m neither.
Once I tell her the predicament I’m in, she might freak out and it won’t even matter that twenty-nine years old.
I can’t keep avoiding calling her though.
So even with my hand shaking, I reach for my phone, I send a quick text to Liam to call me when he gets a chance and then start dialing my mom’s number.
Might as well tell her and get my lecture in.
I’m barely able to take a few calming breaths before my mom’s voice comes through the ear piece.
“Hola, hija. You finally remembered to call your mother,” my mom says, guilt tripping me for not calling her.
I nervously start biting my thumb nail. “Sorry, rehearsals have taken a lot out of me.”
It’s not a complete lie.
“I was looking at the performance schedule to plan a visit and it’s a lot of shows.”
One thing about my family is that they are very supportive. They will take time out of their lives to attend as many of my shows as they possibly can. I love them for that.
“Yeah it’s a lot but I’m going to make every performance count, especially if I want to take next year off,” I tell her, cringing a bit as I do.
Slowly, I’m going to do it slowly.
“Why would you want to take next year off? Are you going to dance for a traveling company?” she asks, excitedly.
Being a travel dancer was definitely something that I looked into sometime this year, but I never did anything with it. I told my mom about it, so I know where she got that idea.
I shake my head even though she can’t see.
“No. I’m not going to go with a traveling company. I just think that given my situation, I'm going to need to take some time off.”
I bite down on my nail. After this conversation is over, I’m not going to have a nail.
“Situation? What situation? Estas bien? I can see if I can fly in later this week if you need me to,” she starts to worry, and I can hear her shuffling around, probably ready to call my dad to book her a flight out.
“Ma, estoy bien,” I say, trying to reassure her. “I just…” I pause. I have to tell her. If I continue to keep it in, she’s going to worry even more. “I just have something to tell you.”
“?Que?”
So much for doing this slowly.
“I’m pregnant and I’m going to keep it.” That’s the first time I've said what I’ve decided out loud and it feels like a weight has been lifted. I didn’t have to tell her I was keeping the baby, she probably already assumed it, but I needed to say it for me.
Saying it made it all that more real.
Saying it made me one hundred percent confident in my decision.
There’s silence on the other side.
She's probably thinking of still jumping on a plane and yelling at me in person.
“You’re pregnant?” my mother asks, her voice a bit shaky.
I nod as if she were in the room with me. “Yeah, I found out last week.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asks, the shake that was just there gone and in its place is something else. It's probably anger.
“Because I was scared.” I admit.
“Why would you be scared of telling me something like this?”
Is she serious? Both me and my sister heard the same lecture every single day when we both started dating.
No babies. Not until you are married.
“Because you always told us to not get pregnant unless we were married, that's why.”
“Oh, mija. I only did that so that you and your sister would be safe in your choices. Not to scare you when you were older. You’re almost thirty, telling me that you’re pregnant shouldn’t terrify you.”
Safe in our choices?
Is this woman for real?
I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-two because I was afraid to get pregnant and have my mother hate me.
Hell, I felt that way now.
“So you’re not going to lecture me?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Why would I lecture you? You’re an adult, you don’t need me to lecture you for this.”
I guess I was scared about nothing.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” I say to her.
“It’s okay. If I had to guess, I would say that you didn’t call me because you were trying to figure out what the best choice was for you and when you made that decision you decided to call.”
My mom knows me so damn well.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Are you happy with this decision?” she asks, her question taking me by surprise.
I pause but I don’t even think about my answer.
“Yeah, I think so.” I admit.
I don’t even have to ask to know that she is trying to dissect my answer. “Tell me your thought process,” my mom suggests.
She will forever be the counselor.
I let out a sigh and go through my entire catalog of thoughts and dilemmas that I’ve had over the last week.
“It's a lot.” I tell her, throwing myself along my couch.
“I have time, your dad is still at work,” she tells me. “Tell me.”
Why do I feel like I took a trip to my therapist office instead of my mom?
Either way, I tell her.
“When the doctor told me, I got scared. You know how important dance is to me. You know all the hard work I put in to get where I am. All the sweat, tears, and injuries I suffered through so that I can even be considered for any dance company. I wanted to be a ballerina for so long that the second she told me I was pregnant, I saw everything I worked so hard for start to vanish. It didn’t help that I had told myself that I wasn’t going to get into a relationship, that I was going to concentrate on dance and dance alone.
So when she told me, I started to freak out. ”
I sink deeper into the couch, feeling the urge to cry as I tell my mom everything.
“You thought that if you were pregnant, you would have to give up dancing and possibly never be able to wear your pointe shoes again.”
I nod.
Ding, ding, ding. My mom has a winner.
“Yeah. I knew I wanted to be a mom, but there were moments in the last week where I wanted to be a dancer more. I kept telling myself that I was at my peak and I couldn’t give that up.
I couldn’t walk away weeks after having the best performance of my life.
I needed to choose dancing and then maybe in a few years I can revisit the whole mom thing. ”
Stupid tears betray me and escape. If my mom and I were on FaceTime she would be seeing my mocos go everywhere.
“What changed? Did something happen that made you shift your perspective?” she asks.
Now I really am in a therapy session.
I sniffle. “Yeah.”
“What?”
Without even trying, my mind goes to two days ago.
I was at my morning rehearsal with a few other company dancers, going through a small number that was added to our Christmas program.
The routine itself was simple and something that most of us could do in our sleep.
What wasn’t simple was one of the lifts that our choreographer decided to add that day.
It was an overhead lift, something we do all the time, but for some reason that day, the lift was off.
Someone’s hand placement was off and the choreographer lost control, causing both him and the female dancer he was lifting to fall to the ground.
The girl ended up going to the ER with a broken collarbone, two broken ribs and a broken arm.
She’s out for at least the first half of the winter season.
“Someone got hurt a few days ago. She’s out until at least December.” I say, remembering the way her arm was bent.
“And seeing her like that scared you too.” I can practically hear my mom nodding on the other side.
“It did. It reminded me that I can get hurt tomorrow and never be able to wear my pointe shoes again. That’s when I started to think that maybe I can keep the baby and still dance. Betty does it, so do a number of girls at the company. If they can do it, I can too.”
Saying everything out loud cements my decision.
I’m really going to do it.
I’m really going to be a mom and a dancer.
“And the dad? Is he going to be involved? Does he know?”
My mom loves to ask the hard questions, doesn’t she?
“He knows I’m pregnant, but not that I’m keeping it. I haven’t told him yet. We definitely have a lot to figure out.”
I have to keep my fingers crossed that Liam is okay with my decision. If he’s not, that’s on him. I would really like for him to be involved though. He seems like the type of man that will be a great dad.
“Are you two together?” my mom and I should have expected it.
“No.” I say way too quickly.
If things were different, I totally can see myself being with Liam. But I’m not going to get with the guy just because he got me pregnant.
A baby does not make a relationship.
I know my mom wants to add something else regarding Liam, but thankfully she doesn’t.
“I’m happy for you, Chloe. I can’t wait to meet mi ninito.”
“Thank you, Mami.” I say, smiling into the phone.
“Ahora, mi pregunta para ti, who’s going to tell your papi that he’s going to be a grandpa?” She asks.
By the way that she sounds asking the question, I know that not only is she smiling at the thought of becoming a grandma, she’s excited.
“I’ll call him and Anabella later today,” I promise.
My dad will probably have a calm reaction to the news were as my sister, she’s probably going to go crazy the second the words are out of my mouth.
Soon after I promise to make the call, the call with my mom ends.
I didn’t know how much I needed one of her talks until I pressed the end button.
Talking to her made me believe in and accept my decision wholeheartedly.
There is no more three percent of doubt trying to get through.
All I need to do is let Liam know on what I finally decided and hope that he is on board.
And if he is, maybe we can figure out a type of relationship, a platonic one because no way am I capable of being someone’s girlfriend right now, that will work for us.
Fingers crossed.
I’m about to get up from my place on the couch to look for something to eat when my phone starts to ring again.
For a second, I completely forgot that I texted Liam to call me when he had a chance. I guess he got a chance, and not even a few seconds after he popped into my head.
A small smile forms on my lips as I answer the call.
“Hey.” I say, feeling nervous all of the sudden.
“Hey, you okay? You said to call,” Liam says, sounding out of breath, like he was just running or something.
“Are you at practice?” I ask, not wanting to take away his time from his teammates.
“It just finished. What’s up?” He asks, more worried than curious.
“I wanted to tell you something, but it can wait. I don’t have to tell you right now.” I stammer. I want to tell him, I do, but I don’t know how he will react, especially in a locker room.
“Chloe. What’s going on?” When his voice is low like that, memories from our nights together start rolling back in.
I push all thoughts of us having sex and concentrate on the task at hand.
“Do you think that you can come over tonight? I have something I want to tell you.”
There is no hesitation with his response.
“I will be there in half an hour.”