Small Talk

"Mom," I sigh, drumming my fingers boredly on the countertop. The woman ignores me, eyes focused on the television, fork holding an egg-and-cheese omelette, making it's way to her mouth.

My father grins at me, despite his fussy mood from being late to work. I give a small smile back, willing myself to appreciate moments like this because he'll probably be pissed as fuck sometime soon.

"Your mum's not paying any mind this morning," he laughs, making himself a sandwich. "Anything important to say?"

"Going out a ways, today," I inform him, taking the ten dollar bill he hands me for lunch and an apple for a snack.

"Where to?" Peter inquires, paying attention this time. I turn around and head for the door.

"Towson," I think, and then add, "with Jack. We're meeting Zack and some friend at the movies."

Dad likes Jack. I'm not sure why, it can't be because I've got a dude to protect me or something(which is totally sexist), Jack's seven months younger than me, and I'm fairly certain my boobs alone weigh more than him soaking wet.

"Zack, the big burly one, yeah?" I nod, and my father nods in approval, wishing me good luck at school.

//

"Question," I speak up to Jack, once we're out of earshot of my girlfriend, who walks away, hips swinging, with Kate and boy Matt.

"Answer?" Jack asks, slightly confused at my sudden decision to be polite.

"How'd you know?" I say in a quiet voice, sipping the stupidly too small, overpriced, half-melted Jamba Juice they sell on Fridays in the quad.

Jack closes the door for me when I'm strapped in, making his way to the driver's seat and starting the car, which sputters to life. From the sight of it, you'd think he lives in West Downtown, or something, but Jack's parents are well off. It doesn't, however, mean they spoil the guy, because contrary to popular belief, it is not your god-given right at age seventeen to get a car. Jack's bought his at some dump, for a whopping four hundred dollars, but he's not seventeen just yet, and neither am I, so who knows, maybe we will get something that doesn't rely on crossing your fingers to drive.

We maneuver out of the student's parking lot, which is overrun by rich Juniors with brand new Mustangs and Seniors who should have never passed their driving test if they're still taking English 9. Jack doesn't say anything, and I think he must've forgot about my question or something, but then he speaks at a red light.

"Kinda ran through my mind, right? I mean, you wouldn't murder someone, and if you just plainly cheated on Matt, you would've looked, more, well, pissed?"

"Why would I be pissed about cheating on my girlfriend? I hope I'd be more compassionate."

Jack shifts in his seat, and it takes me a moment to process that he's adjusting his junk. I roll my eyes and stare out the window, attempting to not imagine my life, weighing 40 more pounds of baby, and living on the streets or something.

Which I wouldn't. Stingy as it sounds, I've always got Jack's mother Joyce's support. Jack and I have been friends for ages, and I've slept over enough that he's comfortable handling himself when he thinks I'm asleep. Plus, Joyce loves babies.

Brilliant. Envision handing over the Possible Baby to someone else.

"You're really nonchalant about this, Alex," Jack tells me, vocabulary word rolling off his tongue. Ever since he switched from Grammar 11 to AP Lit., he's been annoyingly using every damn new word he learns, and excessively.

"Come again?" I request, because I'm sort of confused.

"I'm not going to take her side, obviously," my best friend tells me, "but you know, you did something kind of fucked up."

"You're being harsh," I note, biting down on the inside of my cheek.

Jack shrugs. "I can't exactly yell at you when you're crying and pregnant. That's a shit thing to do. Might as well call you an asshole now. Besides, don't you think having a baby is punishment enough? "

"You're not being funny."

Jack turns the corner to some Planned Parenthood clinic, pulling us into a parking spot. "I'm not trying to be. I'm just saying, going from vagina to penis is a big jump. Jumping that when you're not single is a fucking leap."

I get out of the car.

\\

I know that the second I'm being called in to the "Daddy Office," I'm positive. The nurse gazes at me sadly, and the security man has been glaring at Jack non-stop. I almost shudder. They probably think he's the dad.

The room is quite cute, and on an ordinary day I'd enjoy the pictures of kids and thoughtfully colored walls, but a picture on the adoption process poster stops me short when the teenager is happily leaning into her boyfriend, middle aged couple cradling a new baby.

"Alex," the doctor greets me kindly. I briefly wonder if she's an obstetrician or a gynecologist, but the golden lettering of WILLIAMS, PsyD, OB/GYN answers my question.

I shake her hand and sit down, while Jack awkwardly leans against the wall in the back, uncomfortably reading some "Too Soon to be a Father?" pamphlet.

"Your results are positive. You're pregnant." She pauses, like she expects me to start crying.

"Okay," is all I say, leaning back in my chair. "Is that all?"

Dr. Williams studies me intently, body leaned in to my space. Then, she sits back, reading my file.

"Sixteen years old," she says pointedly. "Who's the father?"

Because that's all anyone wants to know.

"I don't know." I retaliate, "We slept together at some party, I assume. I have a girlfriend."

"Me too," she grins, and I note that she can't be any more than ten years older than me. Her expression becomes somber. "That's a lot of pressure on you, isn't it? Teenage drama is hard enough, with the heartbreaks and sleeping around, but now you've got a baby to deal with."

"I have a baby to deal with," I repeat, staring back at her.

"You don't have to deal with one," she says softly. "That's what I wanted us to talk about."

"That's a lot to think about," I tell her, and I can feel Jack's eyes on me.

"It is," she agrees, staring blankly for a second. She looks startled for a second, like she realizes she's got something to do, then takes a business card from their case, scribbling a number down on it.

"Call me whenever you need to," she says, handing it to me. "Text me. My name's Hayley."

"Okay," I say blankly, standing up. End of session, I guess.

\\

"Zack's place next?" Jack questions, turning the engine over.

"Sure," I agree, staring out the window.

I'm pregnant.

There is a living thing that might possibly become a baby and a full grown human being inside of me.

I push the thought back, my stomach growling when Jack calls a nearby pizza parlor and asks them to deliver at Zack's house. We pull into his driveway ten minutes before expected arrival, and a brunette opens the door, brown eyes boring into mine to spark up a sense of familiarity.

"Zack," she calls boredly and loudly. "They're here."

Jack eyes her up and down, nodding in approval and I subtly kick his leg for ogling.

She looks over Jack and I, then does a double take on me, lips curling up into a small smile. "Alex, right?"

"That's me," I say, sort of timidly, trying to figure out who she is. She extends her hand out, god her hand looks too fucking familiar, and when she gives me the smile you'd give at 2 am, not quite drunk yet, disappointingly, awaiting further company, it clicks.

"Jordan," she says, letting go of my hand.

"I remember," I say slowly, stepping around her into Zack's house. His parents aren't home, god save their sweet souls for trusting a house to their teenage son.

"Hey," Zack says from the living room, grinning widely at Jack. "Been a while. Brought pizza?"

"Nah," Jack says, his voice doing that thing where he thinks he's speaking deeper, lower, but it really just sounds like he's constipated. "It's coming."

"Right on," Zack says, then unpauses his game, and gets to it.

"I didn't know you knew Jordan," Jack comments, pulling me down beside him on the couch. I cross my arms uncomfortably, and lean awkwardly into his side.

"Might've fucked her," I mumble tiredly, staring blankly at the tv.

"Might've?" Jack snorts.

I glare at him, then throw my head back at the ceiling. "God, I've fucked everyone. I'm a whore, whatever."

"It's a good thing you're a little gay or you might end up pregnant," Jordan jokes from the other side of the room, letting out her bun.

It goes silent after that.