“No.”
“Then you need to take some more time to think about it,” he says softly. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I mumble.
After a long beat, he reaches for my hand again. “Come on, let’s keep walking. I’ll tell you more about Coach Death and you can tell me all about how you French-kissed your Timberlake posters.”
I croak out a laugh. God. This guy… just… this guy. I want to thank him. Kiss him. Tell him how amazing he is.
But all I do is twine my fingers through his and let him guide me back to the path.
22
Sabrina
The phone feels like a brick in my hands. I have to schedule the D&C soon or I’ll be outside my window. I should’ve done it a month ago, damn it. It’s nearly the end of February and I’m fifteen weeks along. I don’t know why I’ve let it go so long.
Well, I do know why. Because I can’t make up my mind. Half the time, I think I’ll be better off without a child. The rest of the time, I can’t get the image of Beau’s casket out of my head.
Wetness dribbles down my cheeks and I swipe the tears away with an angry hand. Great. I’m crying in public. You would’ve thought I cried all my tears at Beau’s memorial. That was hideously brutal.
I knew it was a bad idea to study at Starbucks today, considering how hormonal I’ve been lately, but I didn’t want to be at home in case I finally worked up the nerve to call the clinic. I still haven’t told Nana about the pregnancy and I didn’t want her accidentally on purpose finding out.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m completely without direction. I haven’t seen Tucker since our day in the park, and I stopped answering his texts about a week ago. These days, I can’t focus on anything other than the impending decision that’s hanging over my head.
And it’s not just Tucker I’ve been ducking. I’ve only been to one weekly lunch with Hope and Carin since Beau’s death. I’ve blamed it on increased work hours, but I don’t think they’re buying it.
“Sabrina?”
My head jerks up. Joanna Maxwell is standing in front of my table. She’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and a stylish white clutch in the other. Draped in a royal-blue wool coat, she looks every inch the Broadway star that she’s going to be.
“Joanna.” I leap to my feet and give her a hug. “How are you?” Her bones feel about as sturdy as twigs in my embrace. I give her another squeeze before letting her go.
She smiles wanly. “Okay.”
“What are you doing in Boston? Is your show traveling?”
“No, it’s still playing in Manhattan.” A slow flush creeps up her neck. “I…ah…quit.”
Shock silences me for a second. “You quit?”
“Yes. I had an opportunity to do something else and I took it.” Her words are a mixture of defiance and embarrassment, as if she’s tired of having to justify her choices, which she certainly doesn’t have to do with me.
“Well, good for you.” But I’m confused, because when I hung out with Beau, he said that Broadway was Joanna’s dream.
“Right? I’m young, so if there’s ever a time for me to try new things, it’s right now.”
Trying new things terrifies me, but I nod anyway because I’m not the girl who lost her beloved brother.
I’m just the girl who’s knocked up.
“Absolutely. What are you doing?”
“I’m cutting a demo,” she admits.
I’m not part of the Briar arts crowd, so I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Oh. Cool.”
The bewilderment must show on my face, because Joanna adds, “It’s pretty much a sample that I can send to various A&R people in the industry. They listen to it, and, hopefully, someone signs me and I get a record deal. If that doesn’t work, I’ll sing covers and post them on YouTube, maybe try to gain visibility that way. It’s all kind of up in the air.”
“That’s great,” I tell her, but in my head, I don’t understand.
Why in the world would anyone leave a paying singing gig for something that seems risky as hell? If I had a good job right now, maybe I’d keep this baby. I think that if I’d gotten pregnant at the end of law school instead of the beginning, I’d view things differently.
“It’s terrifying, actually. I had to get a job waiting tables, which I’ve never done before. But there’s no other way to pay my bills. And by leaving Broadway now, I might never be able to go back.”
“I, ah, I—” I stutter. The potential of losing everything I planned for all my life because of this pregnancy has paralyzed me. Joanna sounds like she purposely jumped off a cliff with no safety net. “I hope you follow your dream,” I finish lamely.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” She sighs. “And despite what my parents believe, I’m not having an existential crisis because Beau died. In fact, he’d totally be on board with this, don’t you think?”
Beau loved his sister, so yeah, if this made her happy, then he would have supported her. “He’d want you to be happy,” I agree.
Joanna bites her lower lip. “Did you know that Beau didn’t really want to go pro? I mean, the team sucked last year and he had offers to go to other schools, maybe win another championship. That would’ve put him in a better position to be drafted, but he loved his team and he wasn’t interested in playing at the next level. Beau was all about being happy.” She starts to choke up, and I pray to God those tears don’t spill over, because if she cries, I’m going to start sobbing too.
Pregnancy has turned me into a weepy, emo bitch.
“Then you should do this,” I say firmly.
“I know.”
She wipes her face with her sleeve while I dig into my purse to see if I can find a tissue. There’s a crumpled one in the corner, but it’s clean, and Joanna gratefully takes it.
“He really liked you,” she says in a soft voice. “You guys could’ve made a great couple, but maybe it’s better that you didn’t fall in love with him.” Her face collapses as the grief she’s been holding at bay swamps her. “Then you wouldn’t be a mess like I am.”
Without a word, I guide her to the table, drag an empty chair next to mine, and then sit beside her while she cries. A few of the other patrons give us weird looks. I return their nosiness with a death glare.
“Then you need to take some more time to think about it,” he says softly. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I mumble.
After a long beat, he reaches for my hand again. “Come on, let’s keep walking. I’ll tell you more about Coach Death and you can tell me all about how you French-kissed your Timberlake posters.”
I croak out a laugh. God. This guy… just… this guy. I want to thank him. Kiss him. Tell him how amazing he is.
But all I do is twine my fingers through his and let him guide me back to the path.
22
Sabrina
The phone feels like a brick in my hands. I have to schedule the D&C soon or I’ll be outside my window. I should’ve done it a month ago, damn it. It’s nearly the end of February and I’m fifteen weeks along. I don’t know why I’ve let it go so long.
Well, I do know why. Because I can’t make up my mind. Half the time, I think I’ll be better off without a child. The rest of the time, I can’t get the image of Beau’s casket out of my head.
Wetness dribbles down my cheeks and I swipe the tears away with an angry hand. Great. I’m crying in public. You would’ve thought I cried all my tears at Beau’s memorial. That was hideously brutal.
I knew it was a bad idea to study at Starbucks today, considering how hormonal I’ve been lately, but I didn’t want to be at home in case I finally worked up the nerve to call the clinic. I still haven’t told Nana about the pregnancy and I didn’t want her accidentally on purpose finding out.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m completely without direction. I haven’t seen Tucker since our day in the park, and I stopped answering his texts about a week ago. These days, I can’t focus on anything other than the impending decision that’s hanging over my head.
And it’s not just Tucker I’ve been ducking. I’ve only been to one weekly lunch with Hope and Carin since Beau’s death. I’ve blamed it on increased work hours, but I don’t think they’re buying it.
“Sabrina?”
My head jerks up. Joanna Maxwell is standing in front of my table. She’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and a stylish white clutch in the other. Draped in a royal-blue wool coat, she looks every inch the Broadway star that she’s going to be.
“Joanna.” I leap to my feet and give her a hug. “How are you?” Her bones feel about as sturdy as twigs in my embrace. I give her another squeeze before letting her go.
She smiles wanly. “Okay.”
“What are you doing in Boston? Is your show traveling?”
“No, it’s still playing in Manhattan.” A slow flush creeps up her neck. “I…ah…quit.”
Shock silences me for a second. “You quit?”
“Yes. I had an opportunity to do something else and I took it.” Her words are a mixture of defiance and embarrassment, as if she’s tired of having to justify her choices, which she certainly doesn’t have to do with me.
“Well, good for you.” But I’m confused, because when I hung out with Beau, he said that Broadway was Joanna’s dream.
“Right? I’m young, so if there’s ever a time for me to try new things, it’s right now.”
Trying new things terrifies me, but I nod anyway because I’m not the girl who lost her beloved brother.
I’m just the girl who’s knocked up.
“Absolutely. What are you doing?”
“I’m cutting a demo,” she admits.
I’m not part of the Briar arts crowd, so I have no idea what she’s talking about. “Oh. Cool.”
The bewilderment must show on my face, because Joanna adds, “It’s pretty much a sample that I can send to various A&R people in the industry. They listen to it, and, hopefully, someone signs me and I get a record deal. If that doesn’t work, I’ll sing covers and post them on YouTube, maybe try to gain visibility that way. It’s all kind of up in the air.”
“That’s great,” I tell her, but in my head, I don’t understand.
Why in the world would anyone leave a paying singing gig for something that seems risky as hell? If I had a good job right now, maybe I’d keep this baby. I think that if I’d gotten pregnant at the end of law school instead of the beginning, I’d view things differently.
“It’s terrifying, actually. I had to get a job waiting tables, which I’ve never done before. But there’s no other way to pay my bills. And by leaving Broadway now, I might never be able to go back.”
“I, ah, I—” I stutter. The potential of losing everything I planned for all my life because of this pregnancy has paralyzed me. Joanna sounds like she purposely jumped off a cliff with no safety net. “I hope you follow your dream,” I finish lamely.
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” She sighs. “And despite what my parents believe, I’m not having an existential crisis because Beau died. In fact, he’d totally be on board with this, don’t you think?”
Beau loved his sister, so yeah, if this made her happy, then he would have supported her. “He’d want you to be happy,” I agree.
Joanna bites her lower lip. “Did you know that Beau didn’t really want to go pro? I mean, the team sucked last year and he had offers to go to other schools, maybe win another championship. That would’ve put him in a better position to be drafted, but he loved his team and he wasn’t interested in playing at the next level. Beau was all about being happy.” She starts to choke up, and I pray to God those tears don’t spill over, because if she cries, I’m going to start sobbing too.
Pregnancy has turned me into a weepy, emo bitch.
“Then you should do this,” I say firmly.
“I know.”
She wipes her face with her sleeve while I dig into my purse to see if I can find a tissue. There’s a crumpled one in the corner, but it’s clean, and Joanna gratefully takes it.
“He really liked you,” she says in a soft voice. “You guys could’ve made a great couple, but maybe it’s better that you didn’t fall in love with him.” Her face collapses as the grief she’s been holding at bay swamps her. “Then you wouldn’t be a mess like I am.”
Without a word, I guide her to the table, drag an empty chair next to mine, and then sit beside her while she cries. A few of the other patrons give us weird looks. I return their nosiness with a death glare.
