My Life Unplanned

“Love goes toward love as school boys from their books but love from love toward school with heavy looks.” –Romeo and Juliet

When my mother left I was crying and broken, scarred and alone, but I knew I couldn’t stay that way. What those men did to me was wrong, but what my mother did to me was purely evil. She was trying to convince me to kill the child living inside me? She wanted me to have a doctor’s hand climb inside of my body and remove the tiny life before it had a chance to live.

I couldn’t bear to do what she asked of me, no matter what she said. But still her hateful words rang in my head. She thought I was a demon for “accepting Satan” she thought that my baby, my little baby inside my stomach was going to be cursed. I felt my tears well up. How could she think that of her own blood?

I never wanted to be pregnant. I never wanted to have sex until I was married, or at least until I had a boyfriend. This child was forced upon me and I didn’t even know which of the seven men was the father, but it didn’t matter. The baby was mine now, it existed, and there was nothing in my mind that could change the fact that this baby was alive.

“You’re my baby…” I told my still flat stomach, rubbing circles on it as my eyes watered. As I stared I could hardly believe there was a tiny human inside of me, it was just so unimaginable. I looked up at the wall, staring at it as if it would give me answers and I waited there, frozen and unsure for three days.

…

My mother hadn’t brought me food and I had only had the water in my bathroom sink to sustain myself so far. I was guessing this was another extension of her punishment… I guess it was better this way, less for me to throw up.

My stomach growled angrily and I clutched it, my forehead beading with sweat in the stilting room. I pressed my lips together, glaring at the tiny clock on my bed side table. It was almost time for my mother to come home.

The lone thought made me sick. It had been three days and I had done nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.” I whispered to my stomach, rubbing it for comfort and tingles past through me as my eyes filled.

The image of my husband, a beautiful, caring man clutching my baby pried itself into my mind. I could just feel the touch of his lips of my extended belly button, his quiet laughter and his calm loving voice. This was what was supposed to happen to me. He would tell me how beautiful I looked, how I was glowing, how excited he was to see our little baby come into this world. He was supposed to love me dearly from my soul out. I was supposed to be happy. But I wasn’t.

I opened my eyes and there was no loving husband there. No, the father of this child didn’t exist anymore. I convinced myself of that. This was my baby and mine alone.

I heard the same echoing slam and I nearly jumped out of my skin. My eyes watered and my chin began to quiver, my whole body shaking from fear. I fought to control myself, clenching my fingers on my arms but I couldn’t contain the absolute terror. The door opened and my mother stepped through noiselessly, turning to me with no expression.

“Have you decided?” She asked me blandly, her voice dead. Her eyes flew away from mine as she admired my plain violet walls. I bit my lip and a sob wracked out of my throat. She pressed her lips together and I nodded, and then finally managed to choke out a single word.

“Yes”

Her eyes snapped to mine like too piercing knives, carving patterns onto my face and my stomach as they darted about, assessing me. I wondered if she was looking for a baby bump…

“What is it?” She snapped impatiently and I blinked my eyes, watching her unchangeable face.

“It’s the same as before.” I choke out, my voice a tiny mouse’s squeak and I dropped my eyes to the ground, expecting more whipping. I was met with a cold, calculating silence.

“Then you have decided.” She repeated and left the room. I stared after her with shock in my eyes and when she came back in my father was with her. I felt shame spark through me and I looked at my feet. I was completely mortified and very, very scared.

“She has accepted the demon.” My mother hissed and my eyes flashed to my father as he stared intently at me, no emotion on his beguiling face. My lips shivered as I released another sob.

They both stared at me for the longest time and I swear an eternity had passed in those few moments. My father’s expression was bland and unreadable, but my mother was very different. Her every thought flashed across her face as she contemplated; rage, disappointment, aggravation, depression. She was an open book who was usually so positive and charming with her words and demeanor.

Now her beautiful face was twisted by the hatred forever present in her soul as of recent events. It was such a nasty face. My mother had never shown me that face before in my life. I wondered who else she showed that face, who else she thought was so disgusting. The thought that it may have only been me, frightened me. Surely there was someone else she hated more than me. But still the thought, that I was the one blemish on her otherwise flawless life chilled me to the core. I was her worst mistake.

“Have you thought about this?” My father suddenly asked me, his tone controlled. He met my eyes and I could see the kindness there slightly but it was not the kindness he used to show me. But I could hardly remember that. Even before the Homecoming Dance my father had been angry with me for weeks. He told me the dance was too dangerous. We did not live in a good neighborhood. Most of our rich snooty friends scolded us for this; they said we were trying to act like white trash. But my father moved to gang ridden Richmond for a purpose, he wanted to help these demented souls in the lowest of places. He wanted to bring them faith and show them there is light in the form of hope and perseverance.

”The Lord, my God, will enlighten my darkness. (Psalm 18:28)

It seemed he lost that hope when he looked at me. He saw me as a young and confused girl faced with an unfortunate problem he had little power to fix. He did not see me as the daughter he knew and loved, the daughter he was obligated to protect all her life through blood, the daughter who was carrying his grandchild.

“No.” I admitted to him, answering his question somberly. I noticed my body had stopped trembling and my heart stopped thumping. I was calmer around him; maybe it was because I always loved him more. Or maybe because in this past month my mother had terrified me so much I needed that extra comfort, how little it may be it was more than what she gave.

“You will have to start thinking about it.” He told me sternly, handing me a pale ivory packet. I flipped it over and started at the curled violet words: Madeline’s Maternity Home.

“There are several options, but none that are close would be safe for you.” He told me with a double meaning in his words and in his eyes. I glanced at my mother at her gritted teeth and steel eyes that were now watching the ceiling. He met that none in state were safe from her. I doubted she had even seen this page. He wanted to protect me…from my own mother. She would try to stop me, however she could. She would try to prevent the birth of my “demon” child.

My eyes watered at that thought, that I needed protection from my own mother.

“I suggest you take my offer. This is a very nice place” He mumbled, trying to be vague. He pointed to something on the third page. “Here is the address, we can give you bus fair. The service is free.” He whispered again so mother couldn’t hear and I watched her leave the room.

My father’s eyes watered and I stared at him, a small smile lining my lips at some form of sympathy. He smiled back slightly and he shook his head. “I’m sorry.” He told me softly and I struggled for words, I had to say something.

“Why does mother hate me?” I growled aggravated, my throat crispy from lack of use. “It wasn’t my fault.” I moaned, trying to make myself believe it more than him. “It wasn’t” I breathed again, staring at my stomach, hugging it tightly. “There is no fault here.” I corrected. “I am pregnant, but it wasn’t an accident. However it happened, God wanted me to have this baby. That’s why he didn’t stop that…thing. This baby had to come into this world and its mother is going to love it, no matter how it came to exist.” I mumbled to my stomach and I felt my father’s arms wrap around me.

I sobbed as I clutched to him, glad he understood, glad to have a pair of arms around me again. I felt a dull ache in my chest, I never realized how much I wanted somebody, just anybody to hug me and tell me everything was alright.

“You didn’t…encourage…it did you, Rosie?” He whispered and I yanked away from him violently.

“No!” I growled sternly, laughing almost insanely. “Why…” I struggled for words, tearing my hands through my hair. “Why would I want that?” I growled again, laughing as I cried. “They…they beat me...I almost died.” I almost screamed into my lap, my whole body shaking from rage. “I couldn’t do anything, they held my wrists. They used a stick to pull up my chin…and person after person…used me…and” I stopped from the racketing sobs and my dad lifted himself from the bed.

“I was…raped.” I whispered my voice raspy as I finally said the disgusting word.

“Go the hospital, Rosie.” My dad told me at last, his hand wrapped around the door as he stared at me with glass eyes. I watched him, still scared and afraid and he sent me a tiny smile. “I love you” He said softly, before shutting the door. “I still love you, Rosie.” He said again and left.