§§
Restriction equaled misery and boredom. I loathed it. Every day, I came straight home and completed my homework followed by whatever tasks my mother and father concocted, which were plentiful.
Family dinners became a sullen affair. My contempt for my parents made small talk painful. I ate quickly, washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen before shuffling into my bedroom, my new refuge. I dreaded weekends the most. Once my favorite days, now they drug on minute by boring minute, stretching into perpetuity. I flopped on my bed and wrote in my journal, my closest companion.
I HATE my parents! How did I get stuck in this insane family? They are so unfair, and my father is the biggest, ogre-iest jerk of them all!!! I just want to get out of here and live my life. God, I’m only 16. That means I have two years to go until I’m free! Then, finally, I can do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want! No one will ever tell me what to do again! No one will be able to take away my freedom like this! I’ll direct the damned show. I want to run away so fucking bad!!!!!!!
It felt good to vent my feelings, if only on paper. Not allowed to speak to Pete or my friends—and I certainly couldn’t share my thoughts at home—writing was my only solace.
I doodled on the page and before long, “Mrs. Anna O’Reilly” peppered the sheet. It looked as good as it sounded in my formal cursive. I could be Anna O’Reilly someday. Maybe. I mean, not now or anything. I still had to finish high school, and I planned to go to college, get a degree and flourish in my chosen career, maybe even become famous. I would never rely on some guy to take care of me. I could pull my own weight and earn my own living. No way would I end up a housewife, having to ask my husband for money to buy groceries.
I prided myself on my independence and ability to act responsibly. After all, I got good grades, more than helped around the house and chose a loyal set of friends. My boyfriend loved me, and we took precautions. I made solid decisions most of the time, and the rest I chalked up to being young and having fun. That’s why being on restriction demeaned me. As a good daughter, I found it a royally unfair punishment.
§§
I dressed in a rush for school. The faster I got there, the quicker my social purgatory lifted, and there wasn’t a thing my parents could do about it. I had to attend school, and they were unable to monitor my every move out of their sight.
After a particularly loud and jerky bus ride to Skyline, seeing Jake Miller in first period was a salve to my wounds. His smile melted my blues, giving me strength to carry on.
Arriving at English class, a red-faced and tear-streaked Mary pulled me aside in the hall.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” I said.
Pausing while students passed, she whispered, “I think I’m pregnant.”
32
Pregnant
I sank against the wall. “Are you sure?”
Mary swiped away a tear. “My period should have been here weeks ago. I’ve been waiting, hoping I was wrong.”
“I thought you were on The Pill.”
“I was, but Jake and I are off more than on, so I quit taking it. Then we slept together. I knew it was risky, but it was only one time!”
“What are you going to do?”
She glanced down either side of the hall and leaned in closer. “I have to get an abortion.”
“Oh, Mary…when?”
“I’m calling the clinic today.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”
She cried harder.
I hugged her tight. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, but I’m here for you, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”
“Thanks, Anna. You’re a good friend.”
I pulled back, staring into her distressed brown eyes. “Are you going to tell Jake?”
“I want to, but I think he may get mad, or worse, what if he doesn’t care?”
I nodded.
“Right now I’m not going to say anything to him. Or anyone,” she said. “Promise you won’t tell?”
“Of course. It’s in the vault.”
“The worst part is I love him. And I keep thinking if I stick around long enough, he’ll fall in love with me, too.”
I didn’t have the heart to say any differently even though Jake’s reputation as a playboy had to be based on some truth. No one could deny he flirted with most of the girls in the school, but rumor had it he’d screwed his share as well.
Mary chewed on her lip. “Do you think I should tell him? He has a right to know, doesn’t he?”
“I’m sure you’ll make the right call when the time comes.” And if and when she did tell him, Jake better not be a total jerk-off.
The bell rang, forcing us to hustle to class.
Throughout the week, Mary kept me abreast of her progress, whispering during school breaks away from the ears of our friends—including Jaime, to avoid her critical comments. A test with the clinic downtown confirmed she was pregnant, and an appointment for an abortion was scheduled for two weeks from Saturday.
In order to be with my friend through this ordeal, I needed to get off restriction, so I stopped sulking around the house and trotted out my best behavior, hoping to reduce my sentence.
My efforts paid off just in time. I was given one final lecture about responsibility, and my father let it be known he was watching me carefully before he ended my house arrest. It had only been three weeks, but felt like months.
I may have been digging my own grave, but
