Eyes in the Mirror (12 page)

“Oh yeah? I'm, umm, I'm sorry.” I waited to see if Dee was going to elaborate, but she didn't say anything. “How's, uh, how's Jamie doing? You two together still?”

“Jamie is fine,” she said. “We've been really happy together. I'm afraid that might change soon. Once we established exactly what had happened while you were here, I was able to fix it. Well, I was able to fix it with Jamie anyway.” She smiled and got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. “To be honest, I just really love being with him.”

Now I was the one with nothing to say. I waited.

“Well?” she said.

“Well what?” I asked.

“Maybe you owe me an apology.”

“Maybe you owe me some thanks. I'm the one responsible for you and Jamie getting together, remember? I made it happen.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot, Samara. You're absolutely right,” she said sarcastically.

“You used to be so cool when we met. You understood what was going on. When did you become so selfish?”

“Selfish? Seriously?
I'm
selfish? All I've done is try to help you! And all you've done is try to shut me out. Try to ruin my life, try to ruin my relationships. You're the one who walks away every time things get even a little tough. You want to ditch me the way you ditched all your childhood friends?”

“Help me?
Help me?
I don't need your help, Dee. You never understood that. A friend, yes, but I didn't need you to be in charge of my life.” I could hear myself screaming at her. I knew I hadn't meant for the conversation to go like this, but I couldn't help myself. “I basically raised myself. I've been taking care of myself for years. I don't need you to show me how.”

“You know what, fuck it. Fuck you. I do everything to help you, and you never thank me and you never repay me. You just fuck up my life even more. You just screw me over and don't even have the decency to tell me. So fuck it all, Samara,” Dee said.

I could see her eyes tearing up, but she didn't let herself cry. There was a steely determination to her face that I had never seen there before.

I did the best I could to control myself, but I just couldn't, and when I opened my mouth, all the stored-up anger came pouring out.

“Oh, yeah! You try spending a week in cutting rehab. You try explaining to a group of people you don't even like why you weren't in school for a week and didn't call any of them. It's your turn to be labeled as ‘crazy.' I'm always going to
have been
in a mental institution, and it's because of you. Like I could have possibly screwed up your life any more than you screwed up mine. What the hell could I have done that was worse than this? Come on, Dee. What did I do? How did I screw up your perfect fucking life?”

“You slept with Jamie. You don't have to admit it. I know it's true.” Her voice was quieting but it was angrier than I'd ever heard it. “You fucked him, Samara. And now I'm pregnant. Are you happy?” She breathed in sharply and clenched her fists. “You got me pregnant.”

The Easier Way Out

Dee

We had only known each other for about three months, but I had become really dependent on Samara already. I looked forward to our conversations all day, and when she disappeared from my life, I knew it wasn't just that I was worried about her. I missed her. A lot. Since Jamie was the only person who knew about her, our conversations constantly revolved around where she was, what she was doing, and why she wasn't talking to me.

We were sitting in my favorite pizza place, Hot Pizzzza. I think everyone has one of these places. Everyone has a bagel store, a café, a bakery, somewhere that was the first type of that place they ever went to and nowhere else is ever quite as good. Hot Pizzzza is two-and-a-half blocks from my house, and there's a huge tree that takes up almost the entire expanse of the window. When I was little, I used to climb it in summer and eat the ices my mom bought me.

The people there all know me, and I'm sure I owe them a huge amount of money for all of the free food over the years, but nobody will take anything extra from me. I looked back at Jamie. “I just don't know what to do for her.”

“She's going through a lot, Dee.” He put his hand on top of mine. “She's gotta let it out somewhere. I'm just…” He stroked my hand. “I'm sorry it has to be you that has to deal with it.”

“It's not dealing with it,” I said, pulling away and pushing my hair back. “I don't mind. I just wish I could do more for her.”

“You've done so much for her,” he said. I was embarrassed when I felt myself tearing up. Jamie switched to my side of the booth and put an arm around me. “Hey, it's okay. It's all going to be okay. What you're doing…” He pulled me into him and rested his chin on the top of my head. “You're doing the best you can for her.”

“Maybe I'm not. Maybe there's something I haven't thought of. Something I should be doing but I'm not. Something that would make things better for both of us.”

Jamie was quiet, but he handed me a napkin from the dispenser.

“I'm sorry,” I said, pulling away to look at him. “I don't know why I'm like this. I thought I had it all under control.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He pulled me close to him again. “You're dealing with a lot right now. It's way more than I've ever had on my mind.”

“Thanks, Jamie. Look, I'm not feeling 100 percent. I think I'm just going to head home.”

“What's the matter? Are you okay? Come on, I'll walk you,” he said.

***

My mother came home early that night. I heard her come in and I got up to greet her, but the waves of nausea passed over me again and I had to lie back down.

She called me and I told her I was in my room. “Hey, sweetheart. You feeling okay?” she asked, kneeling down next to me and putting her hand on my forehead.

“Just a little sick, I think.”

“Go back to sleep. We'll do our movie night another night, okay?” She wrapped the blankets more tightly around me.

“No, it's not that bad. We can do the movie tonight. Half an hour, okay?”

“Okay, sweetie. Try to sleep now.” She kissed my forehead. “I'll wake you up in half an hour.”

But she didn't wake me up. She was already gone when I got up the next morning, but she had left water and saltines next to my bed with a note saying, “Feel better. I left the movies if you want to watch. I'll try to be home early. Love, Mom.”

***

When I was still getting sick on and off three-and-a-half weeks later, my mom insisted we go to the doctor. I had gotten sick in school once without telling her, but the second time I threw up after dinner she insisted it was time to get checked out.

We sat in Exam Room 5 for half an hour before Dr. Mensin came in. My mom grumbled about why the nurses didn't have to wear uniforms here but they had to wear uniforms where
she
worked. We could hear people shuffling around outside the door, but my mom insisted we keep it closed anyway.

Dr. Mensin had been my doctor since I was a baby, and since he had put on weight a few years ago, he had reminded me of Alfred Hitchcock. My mom had laughed when I told her that. I still had to sit on the butcher paper with dinosaurs and the alphabet.

We watched Dr. Mensin shuffle in. Answered the regular questions, “What's bothering us today?” and so forth. Then Dr. Mensin did all of the regular tests and came back into the room looking slightly upset.

“Do you mind if I talk to Lorna alone?” he asked my mom.

“No. That's fine.” She understood these things. “Is everything all right?”

Dr. Mensin nodded.

“Then I'll be right outside. Let me know when you're finished.” She looked back from me to him for a moment with a knowing look (what did she know that I didn't?) and then left and closed the door behind her.

Dr. Mensin continued staring into the folder for a moment after my mom left. “Lorna,” he said, finally looking directly at me, “when's the last time you had intercourse?”

“What? Never.” Samara. Samara had had sex. What had she and Jamie done to me? I knew Jamie had had sex before, but I couldn't imagine him giving me something.

He scratched his head and said, “This is going to be easier if you're honest with me.”

“It's complicated,” I told him.

“You're right, Lorna. It is complicated.” He paused and looked down again, then back up at me. He sighed, finally making eye contact. “You're pregnant. You're going to have a baby.”

I looked at him for a moment and laughed. “No, I…I can't be. This is not funny. I don't think this is funny at all.”

“No, Lorna. It isn't funny. Now I know everyone thinks ‘this can't happen to me,' but—”

“It can't happen to me.”

“Lorna, I have the results right here.”

“No. You don't understand. I can't be—”

I hadn't gotten pregnant. It wasn't me; I hadn't had sex with Jamie. We had just gotten past kissing. I couldn't be pregnant. It wasn't me. I couldn't believe…I couldn't deal with…I looked up at Dr. Mensin again.

“I'm p-p-pregnant?”

“That's right.” He paused but I wasn't sure what he wanted me to say. “Now you can tell your mother or I can. But it has to be soon either way. You need to start thinking about your options: if you're going to abort, I'd like it to be within the first trimester, and if you aren't, then you're going to need prenatal care. I'd think about adoption as an option if you want to go to term. But we'll discuss your options at length with your mother. I want you to remember while you think about this that a baby is a huge responsibility for a young girl.”

“I'm not that young. I'm not a little kid anymore.” Everyone, even my mom and Samara, always acted like I was some kid who couldn't make her own decisions.

“Being pregnant doesn't make you an adult. As you begin to think about this, you really need to think about your future. Do you want to go to college? Will a baby let you do that? Would you be able to support a baby? And then you have to ask yourself the questions from the other side. Would you be able to give up a child? Is that something you could handle? I'd like to discuss this with your mother. In fact I'd like to do that right now so I'd like to tell her, but I want your permission to do so.”

“I'll tell her. Please don't tell her. Let me tell her,” I said, desperate to have control over something, anything anymore. My entire body was numb with shock, and I kept looking down at my stomach and touching it. I guess part of me expected my stomach to grow over the course of the conversation.

He sighed heavily. “All right, Lorna, but you have to tell her soon. I'm giving you the name of a gynecologist I've worked with for years.” He handed me a prescription paper. “You need to tell your mom before anything else, though. Soon. Very, very soon.”

“Yes, Dr. Mensin. I understand.”

“All right then. I expect to see you very soon.”

“Thank you, Dr. Mensin,” I said, getting down off the table and going out into the hall to get my mom. She gave me a strange glance but didn't ask me any questions as the two of us walked to the car. The drive home was silent as I tried to figure out how I was going to break the news to my mother, and she gave me time to think about whatever Dr. Mensin had said to me.

***

It took me a week to figure out what to do. I stopped going to the literary magazine meetings after school. I avoided Jamie and came straight home and curled up in my bed every afternoon trying to figure out what to do next.

I was staring at the wall when my mom came in five days later. “Hi, Lorna.”

“What?” I asked looking up at her.

“I just said hi. Head out of the clouds, sweetheart. I saw your math test on the table.” I'd forgotten I'd left it there. “You failed? You've never failed before! I know precalc is hard, but it was your idea and you know I expect you to follow through.”

“My head's not in the clouds. I've just been distracted. Leave me alone.”

“Lorna—”

“No, Mom, just leave me alone. I need to be alone.” I saw her take a step back. I didn't talk to my mom that way ever. “I'm sorry. I just…” I slumped down. “I'm sorry.”

My mom walked out of the room without saying anything.

It was so frustrating. I was ashamed but I didn't think I should be. What had happened wasn't my fault, but I was going to be the one carrying it around or aborting it or doing whatever it was I was going to have to do.

***

I felt betrayed. I was so angry at Samara. But at the same time, she was probably the only person who would really have good advice for me. Plus, I figured she would be one of the easier people to tell. Jamie and my mom were much too difficult. We hadn't talked in weeks, but I figured that once Samara knew about this, she would help me.

I wanted it to be a calm, collected conversation. I wanted to act like an adult. But Samara hadn't made that easy. The first thing she asked me about was how Jamie was, and knowing what the two of them had done, that got me pretty upset. But I tried to contain myself. I needed her help. But then she told me that I owed her a thank-you for getting me together with Jamie, and I lost whatever calmness I'd had.

I walked away right after blurting out that I was pregnant. I was feeling too woozy and light-headed to deal with her anymore.

***

The next morning, Samara was at the mirror waiting for me.

“Who else knows?” she asked.

“Nobody,” I told her, “just my doctor. I haven't had the guts to tell Jamie or Mom yet. I don't know, I thought maybe you'd have some advice about how to tell them. But in retrospect, I think you've contributed enough.”

“You have to tell them soon, Dee,” she said, as if I didn't already know that. I don't know what I was thinking, making her the first person to know.

I paused. What was she doing faking maturity here? “It's all well and good for you to say that, but unless you're going to tell them for me, well, I think you've already done your part. Don't you?”

“That's, that's what I wanted to say…” she said quietly. “I'll tell them if you want me to. We can switch places again. If you want to. I'll tell them. You shouldn't have to. It's small, but I want to do something to help. I'm so sorry. I had no idea this was going to happen. Do you want to switch places? Do you want me to try to talk to them?”

“I do,” I said without thinking.

And we switched places. The tingly feeling surprised me, even though I had felt it before. And the feeling of being in someone else's body. Even with Samara's offer to help, I was still unbelievably mad at her, and it was hard to pretend we were going to be all right.

Part of me knew even as we did it that this had been the wrong decision. I knew it would be better if I told them myself. Then at least I would know how they found out. What their reactions were, how they were going to treat me. It had to be handled delicately. But I didn't know how, and right then, having Samara tell them seemed easier. Dr. Mensin would tell my mother soon if I didn't. And all I could think was that I had enough challenges coming up in the months ahead and I knew it was going to be hard. The easier way out was all right with me. Just this one time. Just for this one thing.