The Secret Diary of Ashley Juergens (16 page)

9:19 P.M.

Looks like my nephew likes to take his time . . . just like Amy in the mornings.

Since Amy doesn’t like Dad and me joking around in everyday life, I don’t know why we thought it would be a good idea to joke with her while she was in labor. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

But the good thing about labor is it stops Amy from getting too dramatic. Those contractions are quite effective at stopping her mid-sentence before she erupts like a volcano. They got so bad I had to get Mom.

I bet this whole situation will make parents rethink sending their kids to band camp. The once shining reputation of a summer spent with brassy instruments has been tainted by teen pregnancy. I should have a shirt made for Amy that says, “I went to band camp and all I got was this lousy baby.”

Amy has never told me exactly what happened at band camp. I know she had sex with Ricky, but I’ve often wondered what led up to that fateful night. I bet Ricky sat on the benches during band rehearsal one day and thought, “Who haven’t I slept with here?” Then he saw Amy and her fate was sealed. Amy never had a boyfriend before Ben . . . well, not a legitimate one anyway (hand-holding during lunch period in middle school doesn’t count), and was probably so flattered by Ricky’s attention she let her guard drop pretty easily . . . among other things.

I found Mom in the waiting room talking on the phone to Mimsy. Mimsy hasn’t let Alzheimer’s slow her down. She has a new boyfriend. Mom started to tell her about Thomas, but I told her we were already over. I was kind of relieved to finally talk about it with someone, even if that someone was Mom. I told her the details later. I met Thomas at our usual bus stop and broke it off. He asked if it was because I wanted to see other people. I told him I didn’t want to see anybody at the moment. He wasn’t too broken up about it. I heard he’s already found another “bus stop” he likes better anyway. It happens. Our relationship wasn’t exactly founded on honesty and the only thing we had in common were conspiracy theories and lying about our age. And once that gets old . . . well, the truth is usually kind of boring.

I should take up ballet again. I took a few classes over the summer in secret because I missed it so much, but Dad caught me dancing, so it didn’t feel like mine anymore. I also ran into Lauren at the ballet studio, because she takes classes there as well. And the fact that we had something in common really scared me. And of course she blabbed about it to Amy. Amy didn’t care because, unbeknownst to me at the time, she had other things on her mind.

I used to dance a lot when I was little but dropped out because black tutus weren’t allowed. Mom was surprised I liked ballet. She expected me to like interpretive performance art, but interpretive performance art is such a waste of time. I’d rather just say what I’m thinking instead of wrapping myself in tin foil and spinning around, waiting for everyone to figure it out on their own.

Ballet takes concentration and strength. The concentration part is especially tough when your ballet class is located between the cha cha dance studio and the belly-dancing classes. And when Lauren keeps trying to talk to you and you don’t want to talk to her. I wanted to give it my full attention because I thought it would help me. The truth is I’m nervous about starting high school soon. I know it’s still about a year away and I said I can handle anything, but the anticipation of something is always the worst. Ballet was always comforting because I could focus my nervous energy into it. But I thought if people knew I was taking ballet they’d see it as a sign of weakness.

That’s why I’m grateful Dad didn’t tell Mom I took up ballet again. I’ve got a dark reputation to uphold, after all. I stopped practicing ballet once school started and Amy’s pregnancy was revealed, but it’s an escape I kind of need right now. And it allows me to think instead of blurting out the kind of things that make Mom so angry.

I told Mom Amy needed her and took her seat in the waiting room. I’m not in a hurry to get back in there until it’s definitely time . . . and even then I won’t be in too much of a hurry. I wish Amy would change her mind about wanting me in there for the birth. I know everything that’s supposed to happen and would therefore rather not see it.

Ricky showed up and sat with me. I don’t think he really had a choice. He wasn’t ready to go in there yet and face everybody. I don’t blame him. My family is a tough crowd. And I’d know—I’m the toughest one. And Amy isn’t exactly in a very happy, talky mood. I’m not sure why he thought I’d be any better. It’s probably because we haven’t spoken that much in the time we’ve known each other. He’ll learn.

He said he felt bad Amy was going through all this right now. He didn’t seem too concerned about her when he had sex with her eight and a half months ago. He promised he’d be a father to the baby, and I said if he broke his promise I would pretty much kill him. He didn’t appreciate my threats, but there’s a lot about him I don’t appreciate. Since he’s still getting to know me he continued our conversation. He asked what Amy was naming the baby. I said I didn’t know but it’s not going to be Ricky Junior (at least it better not be!).

He asked if I was this mean to Ben. I almost felt bad for him. He’s always going to be compared to Ben from now on, since Ben’s closer to Amy than Ricky can ever be, even though Amy’s having Ricky’s baby. But he has to deal with it. And he needs a tougher skin. I can help him with that.

I told him I’m not mean to Ben because Ben’s not the one who put Amy in this situation. I know Amy needs to take some responsibility, but Ricky also needs to stop playing the victim. By telling him the truth, I am being a friend to him. Not the kind of friend he wants, but the one he needs. I asked him if he’s even capable of being a friend. He didn’t answer, which worried me. I mean, it wasn’t a trick question.

So I decided to set him straight because now was the perfect time. I told him the only way I would be his friend is if he takes care of Amy and is there for his son.

He looked at me like he was going to play the victim again, but he didn’t. He nodded and said I was right. He was looking at the situation all wrong. Instead of looking at how it is, he needs to look at how it’s going to be. He can be a friend to Amy. And he and Ben can be friends. And they can all be in his son’s life. Then he smiled and said he and I could be friends, too.

I didn’t smile back. I told him I’ll believe it when I see it.

I guess we’ll see.

1:30 P.M.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY!!!
(And good luck, you’ll need it.)

It was beginning to seem like this kid was as scared of the birth as Amy. I’m surprised they didn’t tell us to go home and come back tomorrow. Amy’s gotten the most sleep of her life here, which is good, since she’s about to live without it very soon. I wanted her to wake up and start pushing so we could meet her son and go home. The hospital’s an okay place for a few hours, but soon you begin to feel like you should go ahead and check into a room.

Ben walked in with his video camera, so we could use it to film the birth of the baby. I can say, with the utmost confidence, that that baby will never watch himself being born. I know my nephew. Ben agreed it did sound ridiculous, but Amy wanted it filmed. And she wanted me to film it.

She wanted me to zoom in and out, get close-ups and wide shots, coverage . . . so nothing about the birth would be missed. Someone needs to lower the dose on her pain meds so she’s able to think clearly, because this is nuts. I planned on standing there with my eyes closed and now she wants a birth documentary?

Then Ben started with the “I love you’s” to Amy. Combined with her diary poetry, they’re a match made in cheesy heaven.

Dad and I waited outside until it was time. He was glad to know that every minute we’re in this hospital I’m another year away from having sex. Dad says maybe I should live in the hospital instead of with him. I don’t even want to think how many years will be added on when I film the birth . . . we’re talking a decade, at least.

No clue about the date or time—it pretty much stood still!
A.M
./
P.M.
Whatever!!!

I DID IT. IT’S OVER. THE BABY’S HERE. I THINK I GOT EVERYTHING ON FILM. I TRIED, AT LEAST. WHILE I WAS IN THERE I THOUGHT OF A BUSINESS AMY AND I COULD START. WE COULD MASS-PRODUCE THIS VIDEO I JUST SHOT AND SHOW IT IN EVERY SCHOOL IN AMERICA. THIS VIDEO WILL BE ONE HUNDRED PERCENT EFFECTIVE IN PROMOTING ABSTINENCE. WE WOULD MAKE MILLIONS OF DOLLARS AND NEVER HAVE TO WORK AGAIN, AMY’S BABY WOULD BE SET FOR LIFE, HIS COLLEGE EDUCATION WOULD BE PAID FOR, AND HE COULD RETIRE YOUNG.

SINCE MY DAD WILL NEVER SEE THIS JOURNAL, I FEEL OKAY IN SAYING HE WAS RIGHT. I’M NEVER HAVING SEX IN MY WHOLE, WHOLE LIFE. IF I EVER WANT A KID I WILL ADOPT AND LOVE THE CHILD LIKE HE/SHE IS MY OWN, BECAUSE THAT LOOKED LIKE THE MOST PAINFUL, UNNATURAL THING IN THE WORLD. I CAN’T BELIEVE SOME PEOPLE HAVE MORE THAN ONE CHILD. I CAN APPRECIATE THE MIRACLE OF LIFE IN A NEW WAY AND THAT NEW WAY IS TRYING TO FORGET ABOUT WHAT I JUST SAW FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. THERE. I’M DONE. I’M NEVER TALKING ABOUT THIS AGAIN.

Sorry about that. I’m calmer now. Well, not calmer, but a little less hysterical. The birth was everything I thought it’d be, which wasn’t exactly a good thing. There was a lot of screaming and complaining and medical things going on. I guess the word I’m looking for is “gross.” It was very gross. And it’s on camera, but I don’t know who’s going to watch it. I’m certainly not going to recommend it to anyone outside of my previously mentioned business plan.

Dad had a huge smile on his face when I came out into the hallway. He said I looked like I wasn’t thinking about sex. He’s got that right.

After everything had calmed down, Amy had visitors come in and see the baby. I have to admit my nephew is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. I’m glad I worked so hard to keep him. I can tell we’re going to be close and he’s going to fit in perfectly with the family. He came out screaming, so he definitely knows how to pick a fight. The next test will be how he handles living in a house with all of us. I mean a house with Mom and Amy, with frequent visits from me and Dad.

When I was looking at him, I started having second thoughts about living with Dad. Did I really want to be out of the house? I might miss a lot of firsts. Walking, teething, talking. I really want to be there when he starts talking. I have lots of words and phrases to teach him, like “no,” “prove it,” and “we’ll see about that.”

But the more I thought about it the more I realized not being in the house doesn’t mean I won’t be in his life. A home is where you make it and it doesn’t have to be in just one place. The baby’s a part of my home, even if he’s not down the hall. Also, if he were down the hall, I’d be losing sleep because of the screaming. He’s cute now but the screaming monster (that’s Veronica’s term) will come out soon. Yeah, I can live without the screaming in the middle of the night.

10:13 A.M.

When Mom, Dad, and I came home, we were all exhausted. But Dad thought it would be best if we moved to the new place right away. Better to get settled than put it off. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. I gave Mom a hug and she walked Dad and me outside to the moving truck. Some of our neighbors were even outside to see us off. They looked grateful that the George Juergens boxer shorts fashion show was moving to a different venue.

Mom got very emotional, probably because she’d just witnessed a birth and now she was watching a departure. I knew she would be, but I was surprised by how sad she got. She said how much she was going to miss me and miss seeing me around. She’s been so preoccupied with Amy I forgot how much she cared. She told me I can come home anytime. That was the plan all along. Did she think I wasn’t ever going to come back? Dad told me to tell her I love her, which I did. I was just enjoying the attention so much I forgot Mom needed some from me, too. I said, “I love you,” and we pulled the truck out and parked it next door.

Dad had filled me in on the fact that we were moving next door during one of our many hours at the hospital. I didn’t know if I was happy about it at first, but then Dad gave his “together yet apart” speech and told me if all marriages consisted of two houses then the divorce rate would go down dramatically.

I expected Mom to get angry and glare at my dad because he essentially moved only ten feet from the garage. But she got even
MORE EMOTIONAL
(so did the neighbors, but they were on the other end of the spectrum). Happy even. She seemed relieved that something actually worked out right for once. Of course, she might change her mind after Dad starts dropping by regularly.

11:02 A.M.

We went back to the hospital to check on Amy and the baby. I was kind of sick of saying “the baby this” and “the baby that.” He won’t be a baby for very long, he needs a name, I told her. So that’s the first thing I asked Amy. I thought she’d have a name picked out by now but she didn’t. Amy said I should name him, since I convinced her to keep him. I thought about something simple that would go with Juergens. Because we Juergenses are a complicated package, and he needs a solid name he can count on. I suggested John. Amy really liked it. John Juergens.
JJ
. See, it even works as a cool nickname. It’s my job as John’s aunt to think of these things.

I tried to get out of going to school today, but Dad wouldn’t budge. No one should see what I have seen and then have to go to school right away. He told me he’s seen more than me, and he’s still going to work. I thought living with him would have its perks, but they’re not kicking in yet.

We were going to see John before he dropped me off at school, but Mom’s new boyfriend, David the architect, was there. I guess I can’t drop by whenever I feel like it, because I don’t feel like being around her boyfriend. I don’t know why I thought all the other problems would go away now that Amy had had the baby and I had moved in with Dad. When Dad showed me the house, it seemed perfect. A new house, a new beginning, and new possibilities. But what I didn’t realize until after our first night there was we didn’t move away from our problems, we moved next door to them.

Seeing Mom’s new boyfriend make himself at home next door kicked in Dad’s midlife crisis a little early. He’s going to buy a motorcycle. He said I could get a puppy. I don’t mind if he has a crisis if it means I get a puppy. I do mind Mom’s boyfriend bringing over big stuffed animals for my nephew, though.

I don’t know what made me think of this, but it just suddenly popped into my head. It was this trip we took with Mimsy up north. It was our first trip with just us and without Mom and Dad. Mom had questioned Mimsy about everything a million times before we left. She didn’t really trust Mimsy to have everything covered. We had planned to stay at this great hotel the first night, but we never made it there. The car broke down and then Amy got carsick even though we weren’t technically in the car. Then we lost the hotel reservations and had to stay at this other hotel that wasn’t up to code. It was almost like camping, except we had an actual toilet but it didn’t flush. I looked it up online and believe it or not, it’s still there. I can’t believe that place is still standing.

Mimsy had to call Mom from a pay phone because the hotel didn’t have phones in the room. Mom asked Mimsy how everything was going and Mimsy would only say, “Fine,” and we were ahead of schedule. When Mom questioned us about the trip, I went literal again. “Fun,” “fine,” and “great” were my answers to all of her questions. Mom still doesn’t know what really happened.

It seemed like we were never going to make it home. But we did. And you know what?

It was the best trip I’ve ever taken in my life. That’s why I think things are going to be okay. I didn’t plan for Amy to get pregnant or for Mom and Dad to get divorced, but because of these things Amy and I have gotten really close. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m grateful for everything that’s happened these last nine months, both good and bad. And I just realized who this journal is really for. Principal Miller, if it’s possible, could you return my journal after you finish reading it? There’s someone I would like to give it to. When he’s old enough, that is. . . .

John, I hope you enjoyed reading your aunt Ashley’s journal. It’s weird to think of you as a teenager reading something I wrote when I was your age. I hope I’m still the same way now as I was when I wrote this. You’ll have to tell me.

So that’s it from me. I’ve completed my assignment. I’ve journaled my emotions to death and hope maybe I’ll be understood a little better.

At least until I get to high school.