Chapter Twenty
S tacey awoke on the cool tile floor, shivering. She peeled herself off, desperate for water. The cup beside her was on its side and Stacey’s shirt was damp.
She pulled herself up on the lip of the vanity. Pain shot from her foot up her shin. She leaned her elbows onto the counter and lifted her foot. The faucet squeaked as she twisted the knob. Water flowed out fast. After several long, thirsty gulps from the spout, she mustered the strength to turn off the water. She pushed herself up to standing.
Looking in the mirror, she saw that her face was pale and splotchy. Ashy makeup was smeared under her eyes, with red lip stain on her left cheek and chin. She grabbed a washcloth and tried to balance on one foot as she scrubbed until her skin felt raw. She pulled the washcloth away. Her mom was by her side, offering a dry towel. Stacey accepted it without looking into her mom’s eyes.
“Let me help you to the couch.” She draped Stacey’s arm over her own shoulder, and gripped around Stacey’s waist. They inched their way to the living room.
Stacey fell onto the couch and pulled the blanket over her. The spot was still warm from her mother’s body. Stacey rested her head on the soft armrest and stretched her sore ankle to rest on the coffee table. Her mom propped a pillow under her foot. Beneath the filth and grime from the night before, the ankle was swollen and bruised.
“You need these,” she said, handing Stacey a warm can of 7-up and two more aspirin.
Stacey popped the pills in her mouth and took a swig from the can. Her mom draped a bag of frozen peas over her ankle, then sat on the couch beside her. The clock on the VCR read seven.
“What time do you have work?” Stacey asked. Her voice was hoarse.
“I called Yvonne from the salon. I told her to reschedule my first few clients. I don’t have to be there until eleven.”
Stacey nodded.
“You need to call Bob. You’re in no condition to work today.”
Stacey pushed her fingers into her eyelids and nodded again.
“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”
Stacey sat silent. Flashes of the night before crashed into each other in her mind. “Can we eat something first?”
Her mom nodded. She crossed to the kitchen and started putting slices of bread in the toaster.
Stacey grabbed the phone next to the couch and dialed 411 to get Bob’s home number.
“Hello?” Bob answered, chipper as ever.
“Hey Coach…” She attempted to clear her throat. “It’s Stacey.”
“Hey Stace. What’s up? All okay?”
“Not really.” She looked up at her mom who was watching her over her coffee cup. “Sorry, but I’m…I don’t think I can come in today.”
“Oh,” Bob said. After a long silence he exhaled. “I see.”
Stacey wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to say more or not. She chewed the inside of her cheek.
“Well, thanks for letting me know. Give me a call later if I need to figure out your shifts for tomorrow also, okay?”
“K… thanks, Coach.”
Stacey’s mom nodded as she hung up, and turned to butter the toast.
As Stacey sipped her 7-Up, it felt as though needles were piercing her abdomen. She attempted to swallow small bites of bread. Her mouth tasted like an ashtray, but her tongue couldn’t taste the food.
“What did you drink?” Her mother stared across the couch at her, her toast finished and plate set aside. Murphy was curled up between them.
“ Gold-slogger ? After that…I’m not sure.”
“You mean Goldschl?ger?”
Stacey shrugged, looking at the crumbs on her lap.
“Planning to do that again?”
Stacey shook her head.
“When did you start smoking?”
Stacey studied her mom’s face.
Her mother shook her head ever so slightly. Stacey knew it was her mother’s most fed-up way of saying “Don’t bother lying anymore.”
“I got them over the weekend. But I don’t want to smoke anymore, either.”
Her mom lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “That’s wise.”
Stacey leaned forward and set her plate on the coffee table. She put her hand on the back of Murphy’s head and rubbed the fur between her fingers.
“You know, I was about your age when I snuck out with a stolen bottle of my parents’ gin.” Her mom sipped from her coffee mug.
Stacey nodded.
Her mom went on. “I wanted to see my boyfriend. I was afraid he was going to break up with me if I didn’t have sex with him. I thought the alcohol would help me get over my nerves. One of the stupidest things I ever did.”
Stacey looked at her mom out of the corner of her eye. “What happened?”
“I got really drunk. Lost my virginity to him. He broke up with me anyway. Then, I got grounded for a month, and was sick like you are now.”
Stacey bit her lip.
Your mom will understand. Gabe’s voice echoed in her head. She closed her eyes and all she could see was him standing over her, angry, his lip bleeding.
“Stacey, none of this is like you. You changed your room, threw away your clothes, cut your hair. Now this. I barely recognize you. Something clearly happened. But I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
Tears began streaming down Stacey’s cheeks.
Her mom scooted closer and placed her hand over Stacey’s, which was still on Murphy’s neck.
“Friday night.” Stacey swallowed. “Jessie and I were in my car.”
“Jessie, the guy who works with you at the pool?”
Stacey nodded. “It was…my first time.”
Her mom’s hand squeezed Stacey’s. “Did you want to?”
Stacey slowly lifted her shoulders to her ears.
“Did Jessie…” She took a deep breath. “…rape you?”
“I never stopped him.”
Her mom exhaled slowly.
“But–” Stacey’s voice cracked. “I…don’t think… He didn’t wear a condom.”
Her mom’s eyes closed and she squeezed Stacey’s hand again. When she opened them, Stacey saw her eyes were wet, and Stacey’s tears multiplied.
“Saturday he never called, and I saw him in the bathroom with Melissa. I thought they had sex. That’s when I bought the cigarettes.”
Her mom sighed. “And the next day you cut your hair.”
Stacey nodded and wiped her cheeks.
“Was Jessie the guy Gabe got into a fight with?”
Stacey’s crying intensified. “That was another guy. But, I don’t remember—” Stacey started to shake. Snot dripped from her nose.
“Shhhh… Calm down. It’s okay. Gabe said you were fully clothed. He said the other guy looked a lot worse.”
“I said so many things last night that I shouldn’t have.”
“Drunk people often do.” She patted Stacey’s outstretched knee with her free hand. “Let’s hope people know that, and you haven’t done permanent damage.”
“I said a lot of things before I was drunk.” Stacey’s lip quivered as she looked up into her mom’s eyes. “I felt so pathetic. And Melissa was mad at Jessie for trying to be with both of us. She said we should let girls know never to trust him. I wanted everyone to think Jessie was the pathetic one, instead of me.”
Her mom wrapped her arms around Stacey. “I wish you’d talked to me.”
Stacey pushed her forehead into her mom’s collarbone as she coughed out the sobs. “I’m so stupid!”
Murphy wriggled out from between them and settled on the carpet beneath the coffee table.
Stacey’s mom slid her fingers through Stacey’s hair and made shushing sounds. “You did some stupid things. That doesn’t make you stupid.”
“You must hate me.”
“Why would I hate you? All teenagers make mistakes. But I’d be disappointed if you chose to live your life this way. Listen…” Stacey continued to sob. Her mom moved her lips closer to Stacey’s ear. “Are you listening?” she whispered
Stacey nodded, trying to catch her breath.
“I may not always like what you do, but I’ll always be grateful if you talk to me about it. Okay? We can get through anything together.”
Stacey sniffed and choked back tears. She pulled herself upright.
“This is too big for you to deal with alone.” Her mom pursed her lips and lowered her head. “We need to take you to a doctor. Figure this whole thing out.”
Stacey nodded again, staring at the ribbons of light from the rising sun shining through the window beside the front door..
“Let’s get cleaned up, then we’ll go, okay?”
Tears continued sliding to Stacey’s chin and dripped to her tank top. She exhaled. “Okay.” She pushed the blanket aside and was about to stand.
Her mom stopped her. “One more thing: who’s Belvedere ?”
Stacey’s brow furrowed. She wiped her chin and cheeks.
“After Gabe brought you home, on the bathroom floor, you said ‘Belvedere.’”
“Umm…Belvedere is Desiree’s dog.”
“So, you really were sleeping over at Desiree’s house? What happened to the other girls you were with? Why did Gabe have to bring you home?”
“I lost track of them.” Stacey picked at a snag in the corduroy on the arm of the couch. “Melissa tried to tell me to stop drinking, but I didn’t listen. Once I was drunk, I don’t remember seeing anyone I knew again.”
“That’s dangerous. You’re lucky Gabe was looking out for you. He’s a good friend.”
“I don’t think he wants to be my friend anymore.”
“He was pretty upset.” Her mom nodded. “He really cares about you.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t. Not everyone deserves to be forgiven.”
“He wouldn’t have a fat lip if he didn’t care. But you are the only person who can prove to Gabe whether you deserve to be forgiven or not.”
By nine o’clock Thursday morning, Stacey and her mom were showered, Stacey’s foot was wrapped in an ACE bandage, and they were pulling into the parking lot at Planned Parenthood. It was in an industrial complex a couple of cities away. The entrance and signage faced away from the street. There were no windows, just dark tinted glass doors at the end of a handicap ramp.
Four women in their mid-forties stood outside the building with signs showing enormous fetuses in utero. The signs read “Abortion = Murder” and “Planned Parenthood does the Devil’s work.” The women chanted, “A person’s a person, no matter how small.”
Her mom turned off the engine and rotated in her seat. She looked quickly over her shoulder at the protesters, then placed a hand on Stacey’s knee. “Whatever happens in there, I love you. You are not stupid or evil. We’re here to get information so you can make a choice. Whatever you choose doesn’t have to define you. Don’t let other people determine how your life turns out.”
Stacey nodded, her stomach fluttering. “Can we get this over with?”
Her mom took a deep breath, and they both climbed out of the minivan. Stacey hobbled to the rear bumper where her mom was waiting. She slid an arm around Stacey and helped her cross the lot to the ramp that led to the front door.
“Every life is precious,” a woman shouted in her face as Stacey tried to steady herself on the ramp’s railing.
Stacey’s heart raced. She tried to look away from the signs and the people carrying them.
A woman stood in front of Stacey and her mom, her hands splayed toward the sky, her voice that of a preacher’s. “For the Bible tells us in Psalm 139 that God knit us in our mother’s womb, and sees us before our body is even formed.”
“MOVE!” Stacey’s mom growled sharply at the woman, as she supported Stacey’s weight with her left arm and reached for the door with her right.
The protestor stepped aside, but began chanting louder, “A person’s a person, no matter how small.” The others joined in, one voice blasting through a megaphone.
Once inside, Stacey’s mom pulled the door closed behind them, muffling the protestors’ chants. The waiting room’s bright fluorescent lights buzzed and blinked. The linoleum floors and orange plastic chairs reminded Stacey of a classroom. Three women sat in chairs against the wall. Only one was filling out paperwork on a clipboard, but none of them looked up or made eye contact with Stacey or her mom.
Across the room, on top of the reception desk, sat a privacy partition with a narrow window-like opening in front. The partition reached all the way to the acoustic square ceiling, and a call bell sat in front of it on the reception desk.
Stacey and her mother shuffled across to the desk, her mom’s work sneakers squeaking loudly. Stacey’s mom peeked through the opening, then shook her head. No one was back there.
Stacey lightly tapped the bell.
Behind the reception desk, a door opened with a beep and a click, then closed with a loud thud. A friendly female face appeared, framed by the partition’s opening. The receptionist was in her early sixties and wore lavender cartoon cat scrubs. Her fine white hair was twisted up in a bun, her skin almost translucent.
“Good morning. How can I help you?”
The receptionist had put a bit too much pink blush on her cheeks, too much lavender eyeshadow on her lids, but wore no mascara.
“My daughter needs to be tested for pregnancy and STDs. And she’d like to be put on the pill.”
The woman’s eyelids raised, but her smile never faltered, as she turned her attention to Stacey. “Is that correct? Would you like to be put on the pill? Do you need those tests?”
Stacey nodded enthusiastically, and squeezed her mom’s hand. “Yes. Please.”
“Okay, then.” The receptionist grabbed a clipboard and a pen and handed them through the opening to Stacey. “You need to fill these out. After you're done, set them here and ring the call bell. A nurse will let you know when someone is available to see you.”
“Thank you.” Stacey took the clipboard and looked around the room for a place to sit.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Her mom stopped the receptionist who was already headed back toward the door she’d come from. “Can you tell me what all of this is about?” She gestured at the partition.
“Ever since the shootings a little over a year ago, we’re extra cautious.” The receptionist lowered her voice to a whisper. “There have been bomb threats at facilities all around the country.”
Stacey’s mom closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you.”
They sat down and Stacey began filling out the forms as her mother mumbled under her breath. “‘Every life is precious,’ my ass.”
Stacey turned to her. “Mom! Shhh …”
Her mom put her hands up to make it clear she would stop. Her nostrils flared.
The keypad lock on the door behind the receptionist beeped several times as different nurses emerged and called the names of other women in the waiting room. Finally, a thick Jamaican accent called out Stacey’s name.
The nurse was a tall, sturdy Black woman in her thirties, wearing bold scrubs covered in colorful squiggles. She had long, thin braids wrapped into an ornate bun, and her large, serious eyes gave her narrow face a no-nonsense expression.
Stacey’s mom stood to go inside with Stacey. The nurse held up her beautifully manicured hand to stop her.
“This about Stacey, an the choices she make for her health, Mother.”
Stacey’s mom nodded and sat back down.
Stacey swallowed and hobbled her way to the door, where the nurse reached out her hand to help.
The door shut hard behind them. They were in a bright corridor with buttery yellow walls, cheery aqua blue doors, and white tiles intermingled with blue and yellow squares on the floor.
The nurse guided Stacey down the hall. “Miss Clarisse, by the way. We ahead to room three here on the right.”She helped Stacey onto the table. The paper crinkled under her as Stacey shifted her weight back. The nurse sat on a rolling chair and opened a manila folder on her lap.
Nurse Clarisse’s face softened as she looked at Stacey. “Now, tell me what goin’ on, baby gal.”
Despite the nurse’s kindness, Stacey was exhausted from the night and drained from her conversation with her mom. She felt numb and wanted to do and say whatever she had to so she could put all of this behind her. “Ummm… Friday night, I had sex…for the first time. But he didn’t wear a condom.”
“The sex, it was consensual?”
Stacey looked at her lap, but nodded.
“Is important that you know, you never have to do a thing you never wanna do.” The nurse’s voice was serious and her face was somber. “No man, no woman, no parent, teacher, boyfriend, doctor. No one can make you do nothing you no wanna do. An I don’t mean just sex. Understand?”
Stacey nodded.
“How you hurt your foot?”
“I was at a party last night. Drinking. I tripped in a gopher hole.”
“You was drinking alcohol when you had sex?”
Stacey shook her head.
“What about the boy? He had sex before?”
Stacey nodded. “I think so.”
“How many partners him have? You know? Him ever test yet?”
Stacey shrugged.
“You know anything else that might transmit disease? Oral sex? Shared needles?”
Stacey thought of Pedro living with HIV on The Real World. Despite taking health class and attending school assemblies about AIDS, most of what Stacey understood about STDs was from MTV. She shook her head. “Nothing.”
The nurse scribbled notes on the paperwork and flipped the page. “Says here you last period was eleven days ago.”
Stacey nodded.
The nurse closed the chart and folded her hands on top it. “Sorry, is probably too soon to tell if you pregnant. Too soon too to know if you catch STDs.”
Stacey felt her stomach drop.
“We can do tests to be sure, but…you likely need to come back. Most of the test accurate two weeks post encounter. Some twenty-eight days. You can always do a pregnancy test at home end of next week. Come back here for the other tests in a month.”
Stacey sucked in her bottom lip, her eyes welling up.
“I know that not what you wanna hear. Sorry, gal. We’ll get yuh on the pill today though. Get you some condoms. Do what we can. How that sound?”
Stacey nodded.
“Now, show me you foot, baby gal.”
By 9:50, Stacey had provided urine and blood for the various tests. The nurse assured Stacey that her ankle wasn’t broken, just twisted, and told her to elevate, ice it, and do minimal physical activity for the next few days. Planned Parenthood would call with test results in a couple of hours, but Stacey should be prepared to test again in a few weeks to be certain she was really in the clear.
Stacey and her mom walked out together, ducking through the picket line.
In the car, Stacey’s mom’s jaw ticked as she buckled her seatbelt. She glared in the rearview mirror at the women with the signs who were shouting at the van. She held her hand on the horn, startling the women. They jumped backward. The van’s tires screeched as she whipped the car out of the parking lot.
While her mom drove, Stacey stared anxiously out the window chewing on her thumbnail. “I’m so sorry.”
“This is going to be a long few weeks for us both.” After a minute of silence, her mom asked, “Do you think there’s any chance Jessie has…would he get tested?”
Stacey shrugged. She never imagined she would be dealing with any of this. She always thought she would be in a relationship and know everything about the person she lost her virginity to. “After everything I said last night, I don’t know how I could ever face him again.”
“Well, you work together…facing him seems inevitable.”
“You’d be surprised. For the first week, I was totally invisible at The Plunge. It’s going to be like that again, now. For the rest of summer. I know it. I should just quit.”
“Quitting won’t make it go away. We always imagine things will be worse than they actually turn out. I think you’ll be surprised how understanding people are if you give them a chance.”
Stacey pictured Mark spitting foam from the beer bong. The crew hanging out without her. She felt Melissa’s glare. Heard Bob’s disappointment over the phone.
“I know these people. They have no reason to be nice to me.”
“Even still, it’s too late in summer to get another job. It’s good money. Do you really have anything to lose by waiting a week or two before you decide to quit?”
They stopped in front of Desiree’s house. Stacey’s mom hugged Stacey again, then waited as Stacey used her spare key to unlock the Silver Bullet.
“Everything’s going to be okay. I promise,” her mom said.
Stacey put her key in the ignition. If any of those tests are positive, nothing will ever be okay again.