Page 62 of Give My Everything
Hungry or not, I’m growing a human. Hopefully the bready goodness will help keep my stomach feeling a little more balanced.
“Have you considered…taking any medication to…get rid of the flu?”
At Dom’s question, my face twists, and the faux nature of the conversation goes out the window.
I sit up straighter, my face twisting.
“Are you suggesting I consider an abortion?”
His entire neck flushes red, but his facial expression never changes. That pale skin of his—definitely thanks to our dad’s Irish background—is his one area of weakness, the one thing he’s never been able to get control of.
It almost makes me want to smile. But I don’t.
“Not suggesting,” he finally replies after a long moment where he looks slightly constipated. “Merely…asking if it was ever a consideration.”
I grit my teeth. “I thought about it, okay?” I admit it to my brother, the shame of that consideration leeching through my veins. “I did. But I just…can’t.”
The last thing I want to do is get into a conversation like this with Dominic. I love my brother, and I appreciate that he cares enough to talk to me. But at the same time, the nitty-gritty of this should not belong to him.
It belongs to me and me alone.
Which is why I don’t tell himjusthow closely I considered and examined and weighed my options.
That information is between me and God and is something we can talk about someday when I’m at the pearly gates waiting for Him to decide whether all my shitty behavior outweighs forgiveness.
Being raised in a strictly Catholic family grooms you to believe certain things, some of which are wonderful and amazing—and some of which are not.
I’m still on the fence in regards to how I feel about my faith, but some of the tenants I’ve learned at mass over the years are hard to escape. Forgiveness being one of them.
I can only hope the forgiveness I’ve been promised is enough to wipe clean the depth and breadth of my sins.
Though I won’t hold my breath.
Dominic and I sit in silence as I finish breakfast and he pretends to continue reading the paper.
I can tell he’s pretending because he’s turning the pages too quickly. He’s never been a fast reader. Mati used to tease him about it when we were younger. I know his eyes are just skimming the text and not really taking anything in as he moves from page to page.
“You can’t tell mom and dad,” I say sometime later, realizing Dominic is the one who doesn’t keep secrets from our parents.
“You don’t think they should know what’s going on?” he asks. “Don’t you think they’d be of some kind of help to you?”
“Absolutely not!” I cry out. “Helpful is thelastthing they would be in this situation.”
My brother actually looks lost for words.
“What they’ll be is judgmental and harassing. They’ll take every opportunity to dig into me for thechoices I’ve madeor thelifestyle I’ve lived,” I say, shifting the pitch in my voice to mimic my mother. “We live in completely different worlds, Dom. You can do no wrong. You can do whatever you want and they’ll say you’re a man just sowing his oats or that you’re so strong and independent. You want to know what I am?”
I know my voice is too loud. I know I’m being too emotional, but I can’t help it. These feelings have been building up for months as I’ve sat with them and thought about how my parents will respond to me being a single, unattached, pregnant woman in her early twenties without a job.
“To them, I’m not strong—I’mstrong-willed. I’m not independent—I’mirrational.I’m not a man sowing my oats—I’m a woman who haslow self-worthand apropensity to spread my legs.” I shake my head. “According to mom, I allow men to treat me like alady of the night.I don’t get to just be myself and enjoy life, Dom. When I’m myself, I get their disappointment. So I am begging you,please, do not tell them. Because if they know I’m pregnant, I will never,everhear the end of it.”
“Holy shit, you’re fucking pregnant?”
My head whips to the side and my face pales when I see Mati standing at the doorway, his eyes wide.
I can feel what I managed to eat start to work its way back up from my stomach, my body’s nerves rejecting anything that might make me unable to flee from my current position. And then something crazy happens.
Mati’s smile spreads wide across his face, his arms following suit as they stretch out to his sides.
