A gentle, timid knock on my door jolts me back to the present. “Mrs. Thomas?” It’s Tina.
Her belly is rounding a little, and I’ve heard rumors about her pregnancy rumbling through the school.
“Hi, Tina. Come on in. What’s up?”
She comes in, closes the door, and settles in a chair. “I know it’s close to the bell and you probably have to go, but…I got a pass to the bathroom and I just…I need to talk to someone.”
“No need to explain, honey—it’s why I’m here.” I shuffle papers, set them aside, bring up my notes on Tina on my computer, and then tug a notebook and pen over in front of me. “Having trouble with the rumors?”
Tina snorts, waves a hand. “No—god, no. I accepted the fact that there would be rumors a long time ago. I could have hidden my pregnancy with baggy clothes and stuff, but that’s not me. I don’t hide. So I just…wear what I wear, and let people talk.”
“Very brave of you, Tina.” I doodle on the notebook. “So, what’s bothering you, then?”
She sucks in a deep breath, lets it out in a shuddering sigh. “I’m worried I’m getting attached.”
“To the baby?”
She nods, sniffling. “Yeah. I try to think of it asit, you know. Not assign a gender, or think about a baby, or any of that. But it’s hard. And I can’t—I know I can’t afford to get attached, because I’m determined to give it up for adoption. I’ve already started the process—the agency has several prospective couples lined up, and they’re narrowing it down.” She picks at a thumbnail, not looking at me. “I can’t get attached, but how do I not?” She blinks back tears. “It’s hard, Mrs. Thomas. It’s really, really hard, and I have no one to talk to. No one supporting me. Except you and Ms. Pearson, I mean.”
I set my pen down and consider my response for a few moments. “Tina…” I sigh, chewing on my lower lip. “The honest answer here is that I’m not sure I’m qualified to give you advice on this. I’m a guidance counselor, but I’m not a licensed therapist.”
“I’m not asking for advice, just…” She shrugs. “If I wanted a therapist, I’d go see one. I want to know whatyouthink, because I know you and I trust you.”
I nod. “Okay.” Another long pause as I think. “Well, the truth is…I don’t think there’s any way around the fact that you’re going to become attached. Your biology and your hormones are working against you, because your bodywantsyou to be attached. It’s the maternal instinct. I wish I had a better answer than this, but…I think you just have to mentally and emotionally prepare yourself for this to—to get worse before it gets better.” I grab her hands in mine and squeeze. “You have a hard, painful road ahead of you, and I don’t think I’d be doing you any favors by pretending otherwise.”
Tina nods. “I know.” She sighs, wipes away tears with one hand. “I got myself into this, and there’s no easy way out.”
“It wasn’t just you. You had help getting into this.”
“Yeah, but Jake is useless. He’s ignoring me in the hallways. I’ve been shunned by my circle of friends, because they werehisfriends before they were mine. He wants nothing to do with me. I’ll get no money from him, not a damn thing. I could take him to court, put him on the birth certificate, fight for child support, but that’s going to get me nowhere and nothing but trouble and headaches—I’ve looked into it. I’m better off just writing him off and knowing I really am in this alone. So, yeah, I know he is partly responsible, but I knew the risks of having sex with him, and I still did it. I thought we were covered, but apparently there was an accident with the condom and he didn’t tell me.”
“Asshole,” I mutter, and then wince. “Sorry. Not a great example, am I?”
Tina laughs. “No, you’re right about that, and I think everyone knows it.” She waves a hand. “But, whatever. I’m not even thinking about him anymore. I have more important things to spend my time and energy on than Jake Emerson.”
I smile at the firm, dismissive tone of voice. “Good for you, honey. Although part of me wants to tell you to do whatever you can to stick him with his responsibility, I know how futile that can be.”
“It’s just not worth it. I’ve spoken to several caseworkers about this already, and I’d spend all this time on court cases and hearings, and trying to track him down, and trying to force payments out of him…so I see no point in any of it.” She sighs. “I mean, if I was planning on keeping the baby instead of giving it up for adoption, it’d be a different story. But as it is? No. Jake can go…well, you know.”
“Yeah, I do.” I pat her hand. “I’m here whenever you need to talk, okay? You know that—no appointment needed. You’re going to be fine. Believe that.”
She sniffles, nods. “I’m trying.”
The bell rings then, and Tina takes a long, slow, deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out, shaking her hands. “Okay. I’m good.” Another quick deep breath, and then she pastes a smile on her face. “I’m good!” Her smile brightens and I’m impressed by her ability to push it all away and present a calm, controlled appearance. “Thanks, Mrs. Thomas!”
“Absolutely my pleasure, Tina. Whatever I can do, just let me know, okay?”
I watch her go, and she absently rubs her belly with both hands.
Something I’ve thought but haven’t said to her is that there’s no way I could do what she’s doing. I can’t imagine not having Aiden. I couldn’t possibly have carried him for nine months, birthed him, and then given him away. Granted, I had a husband at the time, but still. It’s unfathomable to me, but I’m proud of her for making the decision.
I lock up my office, and I’m actually somewhat surprised when I’m able to get out the door without any last-minute surprises.
Today is Aiden’s game, which means I need to head home and put on my jersey with the matching number to Aiden’s jersey, and write his number on my cheeks in lipstick—his team colors are red and white, so I’m doing red lipstick on my cheeks. Just so there is no doubt as to which team I am supporting, I will also bring my red-and-white pompoms, my stadium seat cushion, and my red-and-white team mascot to-go coffee mug.
Aiden is always embarrassed when I show up to games decked out in all my gear, but he’s my baby boy and it’s my duty as his mom to embarrass him with overly exuberant support. He once asked me if I could choose, like, one or two things instead of the whole embarrassing get up; I responded by threatening to paint my entire face half white and half red, and he promptly shut up.
Mom and Dad meet me at the high school stadium where the game is held: we take football very seriously around here, so even the youth teams play on the nice field. Mom and Dad already have a little section of bleachers spaced off, front and center right at the fifty-yard line, and Mom is as decked out as crazy as I am while Dad, like Aiden, is probably wishing he was allowed to sit with less embarrassing people.
