Authors: Tammy Letherer
She wanted a husband too. She just never thought it would be someone like Cash. Her face burned as she remembered the way he’d acted at the station. He might be shy. Or busy. Or just an ordinary jerk. It didn’t matter, because she was stuck with him now, their lives tragically entwined, like Romeo and Juliet. Hadn’t she
known
she belonged to him? This only proved it. Besides, what other boy would want her, with someone else’s baby?
Face it. Cash didn’t want her either! Sex didn’t mean love these days. Hadn’t she learned anything eavesdropping in the girls’ room? She was on her own here.
She could give it away. Wouldn’t that be best, to give some deserving couple a child? Because, really,
what
was she going to do with a
baby
? She put her hands on her belly and it felt warm and soft. Not different. She imagined something in there, something that would eventually want out, its face squished against the wall of her uterus like it was a pane of glass.
Feed me! Love me!
And the pain. That scared her more than anything. More than getting fat or being laughed at. Those things were bad enough, but
childbirth.
It was so…medieval. So much writhing and gnashing. Guttural, ugly animal sounds. Blood-soaked sheets in a darkened tapestry-draped room. A doctor holding a candle, shrugging helplessly.
There’s nothing I can do
. Never mind that it was 1968, with sleek, modern hospitals and newfangled drugs to numb everything. Some things never changed.
Then, if you survived, there were the diapers and feedings and crying. She’d have to quit school. Get a job. Would Cash help? What would he say? What did she want him to say?
It was as if she had stepped onto a conveyor belt and, just
moments
ago, it had been pulling her toward something. Hello dad! Hello boyfriend! Hello even to the confusion of womanhood. Everything close enough to touch. Then,
hey! Come back!
All of it was disappearing. Except the womanhood part. She was left holding that like a booby prize.
She decided to keep her pillow over her face, nearly suffocated by the heat and cotton-covered poly-fill fiber. Pretending the rolling bile in her stomach was something she caught from a dirty fork in the school cafeteria.
Her mother knocked on the door.
“There’s someone on the phone who would like to talk to you.”
Cash!
Some feeling, bright and hopeful, flared, then went out. Extinguished by this: nothing mattered now. Her life was over.
She dragged herself from the bed and went into the kitchen.
Prudy handed her the phone. “It’s Pastor Voss.”
Sally froze. She wasn’t ready for this.
Her mother put the receiver to Sally’s ear and she heard his voice, a long way off.
“Sally?”
“Yeah?”
“Your mother tells me you’re in a bit of trouble.”
She glared at her mom. She told
him
?
“A bit? Uh-huh.”
“And we were just discussing the fact that I may be able to help.”
She pictured him bringing her a box of used maternity clothes. “I don’t need your help.”
“I think you do.”
“Sorry. You don’t get to have an opinion.”
His patient sigh infuriated her.
“Sally, the church was going to fire me.”
She twisted the phone cord around her finger. “Anyway, who cares?”
There was a pause. “I should have said goodbye.”
“Yeah. Goodbye.” Sally tried to hand the phone back but Prudy wouldn’t take it.
“Talk to him!”
Sally made an angry sound. She didn’t want
him
! He was supposed to be the good guy, the respectable one. But he was all wrong for her.
She thought of the times over the years when she’d wanted to share something with her father. In second grade, when she wore the giant milk carton in the school play and shouted
plenty of me helps you run, jump, and ski!
In fifth grade gym class, when she had to do an interpretive dance and she pretended to be falling leaves, running willy-nilly in circles, flailing her arms about, and the gym teacher, a severe, bony woman named Ms. Dyke clapped and said Sally had panache. And how many times had she been with a group of girls as they pretended to be horrified—
My dad offered my date a glass of Kool Aid! Mine started smoking a pipe. Mine bought a motorcycle. He thinks he’s James Dean!
—when Sally knew they talked of their dads the way they’d talk about their husbands someday. A big slice of fondness under a coating of complaints.
Why was it she could still imagine a fondness for Richard—drunken, loudmouthed, sparkly Richard—and not feel even a smidge for Pastor Voss?
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Would you like my help?”
“I’ll leave it up to you.”
Another sigh.
“What, am I annoying you?” she said.
“Yes, actually.”
“Do what you want, okay? I mean, I hate to bother you.”
“If you feel that this is something you can’t go through with, then I can help.”
She stopped fidgeting. Turning away from her mother, she spoke quietly into the phone. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve called on many people at Grand Rapids Memorial hospital and I know of a doctor there who performs certain services.”
Something in her went cold. “You want me to have an
abortion?
” She whipped her head around to see her mother giving her a level look. “You know about this?” she hissed.
Prudy nodded.
“But…that’s illegal. And dangerous.” She took a step backward, as if she could run from this.
Her mother touched her arm. “There are ways,” she said. She had a hopeful, pleading look. Oh. She was expecting
gratitude!
“With what you’ve already been through, we just feel…,” Pastor Voss began.
They wanted her to believe they were saving her! Like she was special. She blinked. Where was the outrage? The disappointment? The tongue-lashing that she so deserved? This was what they thought of her! To give up on her so easily.
She struggled to find her voice. “Is God making an exception for me? I’m just curious.”
“Let’s not read too much into this.”
Right. Maybe God’s laws weren’t laws at all. Maybe they were merely suggestions. And the image she’d always had of God, high on a throne, purple robes pooling at his feet, arms outstretched as he delivered his message to the multitudes, was all wrong too. God might be a short, ordinary looking guy with a goatee, chatting with a few folks in someone’s living room, just another cool cat who would wave his hand casually and say
here’s an idea! Try not to kill anybody, especially before they get a chance to have a life.
And some people would nod and snap their fingers. Right on, man.
But you didn’t have to listen. You didn’t have to do anything.
This was wonderful! She waited for the crash of relief. Willed it. They were offering her a way out! Never mind the strangeness of hearing this voice, the same voice she’d heard preach a hundred times, suggesting
abortion!
Was she going to turn this down? For what? So she could hear a few scripted lines from Father Knows Best?
“So you know a doctor,” she said cautiously.
“I trust him completely. He’s one of the best.”
“You’ve sent other girls to him?”
“Well no, this is not something I’m usually involved in.”
“Then how do you know he’s safe? How can you trust him?”
“I’ve checked this out, Sally.”
Her mouth had gone dry. “Just make it go away. Is that it?”
“If this solution is not something you want, we won’t say another word about it.”
“I’m just …”
So afraid!
There was also a sense, one she couldn’t understand, that they were trying to take something from her. And there was this: Cash might love her. He’d have to, if she had his baby!
No. Someone who barely knew her would not love her.
Unless. Maybe that was the key. Maybe her only real shot at being loved was with Cash
because
he didn’t know her. Her real father didn’t love her and he’d known her all her life.
What should she do?
“I’m surprised, that’s all,” she managed.
“Take some time to think about it. I could drive you to Grand Rapids on Saturday.”
“That’s not much time!”
“You don’t want to wait too long. Talk it over with your mother.”
She looked at Prudy. Talk? Too dangerous. Better to listen. Nod, nod.
Whatever you say
. If only she had listened long ago! She wouldn’t be standing here today, a stranger’s child inside her. A stranger on the phone line, telling her what to do. A stranger clutching at her arm, pretending to want the best for her. If only she could go back to being normal! She’d been a fool to be unhappy.
Poor me! No daddy!
Now look at her! She’d found two fathers. The right one and the wrong one.
How was it possible to feel so alone?
Sally didn’t want to come right out and admit that she missed Lenny. But she didn’t understand why he hadn’t moved back home. His probation was up, yet he was still holed up in the church basement. It hurt. Even Lenny didn’t want to be around her. Anyway, it wasn’t like she was his
real
family. They shared a mother. Big deal. It had always been that missing piece, that gaping hole in their lives, that had been their bond. Now Lenny had his dad. What use would he have for Sally?
But she needed him. Lenny, who never cared what anyone thought. Lenny, who messed up plenty. He was the only one she could talk to.
So when she woke late to the sound of his cursing outside her bedroom window, she breathed a sigh of thanks. She grabbed a wrinkled t-shirt and skirt from the floor and pulled them on, confused by the gray darkness of the sky. She found Lenny outdoors, struggling with a mountain of garbage bags. The wind was blowing hard, whipping his hair into his eyes. It was one of those strange autumn winds when it seems like the air is about to burst into tears. The kind that has you squinting at the sky, wondering
how soon until this blows over?
“I need to talk to Cash,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t act ignorant. Nell said she’d seen Lenny hanging out at the Texaco with Richard and Cash. After the first pang of betrayal, Sally tried to understand. The trying was like a muscle she hadn’t known she had, tired lately from overuse.
“Why?” he asked, not looking at her as he heaved two bags over his shoulder and headed toward the garage.
Sally hesitated as she held her skirt down, wondering how long it would be before the truth was obvious. She could go months without having this conversation. She could go forever. She could get rid of the baby and Lenny and Cash would never know a thing. But without them, she’d have to make this decision on her own, with only her mother and Pastor Voss advising her, and who could trust them?
“It’s a private matter,” she said.
Stupid.
Why prolong it?
“Then leave me out of it,” he said.
“Could you just tell him to come see me?”
He flung the bags carelessly into the can behind the garage and folded his arms. “I’m not his fucking secretary. I don’t even talk to the guy.”
“Liar.”
He shot her a hostile look.
“I mean, it’s fine. I don’t mind that you like him.”
“You’re the one who likes him.”
She grabbed his arm. “Listen, it’s more than that.”
“Oooh,” he sneered. “Puppy love.”
“Lenny, I’ve got to talk to him. It’s a matter of life and death.”
He sighed. “Good Lord, what is it?”
“Well…” She looked at her feet. There was a large chunk of mud on one toe. She bent down and rubbed it furiously. Not that it changed anything. Dirty.
Dirty.
“What?” Lenny said, impatient.
She took a deep breath. “Well, if you must know, he and I had sex.” Yes.
This
was how she’d refer to it. It was matter-of-fact. Mature. “And I happen to be pregnant.”
His face jumped like a machine had been flipped on under his skin.
“
Cash
….got you
pregnant?
” He stared at her a moment. “I’ll fucking kill him!”
He kicked the garbage can so hard it flew up and bounced off a tree, littering the grass with coffee grinds and wads of Kleenex. A white plastic bag lifted, free and easy, and rode the wind into the neighbor’s yard.