Page 11 of Skid
Normally, I wouldn’t care what a man thought about me or where I worked. But there was something about him.
There was kindness in his eyes that was becoming harder and harder to find. I’m not sure I’d ever truly found it. I thought back to the night I told Kevin I was pregnant. I could still remember everything about that night. What I was wearing. What he was wearing. The color of the sky. The smell of his cologne. It was carved into me like a nightmare.
Kevin and I dated for almost two years, and I thought we had a real future together. He was older than me with a full-time job, and I was taking a few classes at the community college and working part-time at the local drug store.
We’d talked about the future and possibly getting married.
But it was just idle talk.
I realized that when I told him I was pregnant. Sadly, that wasn’t the case.
It was late. We’d just finished watching a movie, and I’d followed him out to his truck to say goodbye. He gave me a quick kiss, then opened his door and slid inside. He was about to turn the ignition when I said, “Wait. I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
I reached into my back pocket, and my hands were shaking so bad I nearly dropped the test on the ground. He took it from my hands, and his brows furrowed as he glanced down at the two pink lines. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yeah. Apparently so.”
His face was completely void of expression as he asked, “You’re gonna get rid of it, right?”
“I don’t know.” Anger marked his face when I said, “I was thinking about keeping it.”
“I got a life. I don’t want no baby, Laken.” He started the truck and leaned out the window as he snarled, “Get rid of it or we’re done.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Try me.”
Without saying another word, he backed out of my driveway and sped off. It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but it told me everything I needed to know. He wanted no part of this baby, and that meant no future with me. It was tough, but telling my parents was even worse.
It took me several days to muster up the courage to tell my mother about the pregnancy. I knew she wouldn’t be happy with me. My folks worked hard to keep food on the table and clothes on our backs, but it never seemed like it was enough. We were always struggling. Mom was one to think that prayer was theanswer, and if we just followed the right path, God would find a way to provide.
And there were times when He did, but there were others when He didn’t. Those days and months were rough. We struggled to just get by, and those were the days when I felt more like a burden than a daughter. My parents weren’t bad. They tried, but they were tired and frustrated with the life they’d been dealt.
I knew this, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, I held onto this small, desperate hope that they would understand my predicament and would help me. But when I went into the kitchen and broke the news to my mother, her face went pale. “What were you thinking?”
“I didn’t plan on this, Mom. It was a mistake.”
“You’re damn right it was a mistake.” She threw the dishrag in the sink with a huff. “You can’t have that baby here, Laken. Your father and I work too hard for you to screw things up like this. We won’t be a part of it.”
“What are you saying?”
“We can either handle it and put this all behind us, or you have to go.” She crossed her arms, and it was impossible to miss the disappointment in her eyes when she said, “You’re nineteen years old. You’re old enough to make your own choice, and you’re old enough to deal with it. You clearly were not following the path God wanted for you or this wouldn’t have happened. Now you have to face the consequences.”
There was no screaming. She didn’t make any idle threats. She just laid it out and left it up to me to make the choice. I didn’t decide right away. I knew I would be leaving a hard life for an even harder one, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of terminating the pregnancy and couldn’t believe my mom would even suggest it.
But I decided to keep the baby, which meant I had to move out. Thankfully, Mom let me keep my car. It was only fair. I’d paid for most of it, and she gave me a handful of cash. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I packed what I could fit into the Corolla, closed the door to the only home I’d ever known, and drove away with nothing but an aching heart and a baby I refused to give up on.
I had no plan. Just a simple promise.
I would love her enough to make up for the family that turned their back on us, and so far, I’d done just that. I stayed with friends and family until I could save up enough for a deposit on the apartment. Once I found a place I could afford, I started collecting furniture from second-hand stores and yard sales. Slowly but surely, I made us a home.
I might not have much, but I had all the love in the world, and I would give it to her every chance I got. I glanced over in the corner and smiled when I found her coloring in her book. “How’s the picture coming?”
“I made it snow.”
She lifted it up to show me, and sure enough, the page was all black with little white specks all over it. “Wow, that’s really pretty, sweetie.”
