That was a scary exercise, pregnant or not. Daisy didn’t know what the future held for her. She didn’t know what she wanted or who she wanted to be.
She glanced over at her mother, who was driving. Within twelve hours of Daisy’s call, her mom had dropped everything, walking out of the international court with its white-wigged justices. Because of Daisy, Sophie Bellamy had turned her back on the case she had been working on half of her professional life.
“I’m really sorry, Mom,” Daisy said. Boy, understatement of the year.
“Sweetie, don’t be sorry.”
The words were kind enough, but Daisy couldn’t escape the thought that her mother was struggling with disappointment and fear. And really, Daisy didn’t blame her. She’d probably feel the same way if their roles were reversed. “You had to walk out of the World Court.”
“And I can walk back in. People have family emergencies. It happens.”
Daisy lapsed into silence and thought back over the options. She had seriously considered adoption, had even watched videotapes of prospective couples who all seemed so needy and earnest. But try as she might, she could not picture herself handing over her newborn baby forever. As to having the baby, she had already done that reality check. The counselor had given her a virtual baby, which was a little device like a pager that forced her to live through twenty-four hours with a real newborn that cried at all hours, wet and pooped and spit up and, according to national statistics, cost an average of $240 a week for eighteen years. And finally, there was abortion—a safe and legal procedure.
Daisy gazed out the window at the gray winter world floating by. Having a baby was the kind of thing she’d dreamed about doing someday. Not seven months from now. In seven months, she would be a high-school graduate. In a year, maybe she’d figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Five years from now, she probably wouldn’t even remember this day.
“Thanks for doing this,” she told her mother.
“Of course.”
“I wish you’d say how you really feel.”
“I… Daisy, I can’t, because I just don’t know what I’m feeling. There’s no easy resolution for your situation.”
“You got pregnant at nineteen, and you married Dad and had me. Do you wish you hadn’t? Was it a mistake? Was Max? Or the past eighteen years?”
“Of course not. Having you was the best and the hardest thing I ever did. Going to law school, trying cases, all that was nothing compared to getting you to sleep at night and keeping you safe. And the only thing that made it bearable was having your dad—my partner, my husband, by my side to help me.”
“But now you’re divorced and we’re all miserable.”
“Our lives are different. Not miserable.”
Speak for yourself, thought Daisy. I’m miserable.
Mom rubbed the back of her hand. “I don’t regret anything about the past eighteen years,” she said. “We were a happy family, but your dad and I stopped…being happy together. It happens.” She paused. “Maybe you should think a bit more about talking to Logan—”
“No way.” That decision had been an easy one to make. She had pictured herself going to Logan O’Donnell, telling him about the baby. That scenario was almost laughable—she and Logan together, raising a baby. Logan had a big ego and a dangerous affinity for beer and worse. Living with him would be like raising two kids, one of them badly behaved.
She had also thought long and hard about raising the baby by herself. For a young, single mom with no college education and few job skills, it was bound to be a challenge. The counselor she’d seen drummed it into her—the commitment was unrelenting. Raising a child alone meant being without that second pair of hands to help out, that second income to make ends meet, that shoulder to lean on in hard times. A single mom, even one with a loving, supportive family like she had, ultimately had no one but herself to rely on. To Daisy, this was the scariest option of all—that she would somehow fail the child, inadvertently harming it with her ineptitude or inadequacy, making a blameless child the victim of her own stupidity. And, okay, she was selfish. She knew if she decided to go through with the pregnancy, her youth would end. She wasn’t ready to give up being free and adventurous, going to concerts and staying out all night, seeing the world, maybe becoming a famous photographer.
At the clinic, a surprisingly homey place in an older building a few blocks from the hospital, she went through more counseling. She was told exactly what to expect, the exact progression of events. At the end of twenty-four hours, she would no longer be pregnant. She would be…empty. It was agony, wondering if she was doing the right thing. She thought of Sonnet, whose mom had faced the same dilemma. And her cousin Jenny, who would never have been born if her accidentally pregnant mother had gotten rid of her. Once this was over, it was something Daisy could never undo, and the permanence of it made her shudder.
The waiting room was half-full. One woman stared at the floor, as though dog-tired, or ashamed. Another leaned back, looking ill and desperate. Another looked absolutely furious. Two girls younger than Daisy, alike enough to be sisters, sat together whispering and giggling, probably giddy with nerves. Daisy couldn’t imagine saying a word to anyone. As far as she was concerned, you didn’t make idle chitchat about something like this.
There was a checklist to be
