Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 11299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 56(@200wpm)___ 45(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
She starts to breathe with me, forcing me to regulate my breaths as I close my eyes, feeling like I have no control over anything. I lean the phone on the leg of the pedestal sink, and I rub my face hard, trying to rub the fear out of my body. When I open my eyes, my mom is watching me, and I wish she were here.
“Take your time, my love. It’s okay. No matter what, you can achieve anything.”
I close my eyes once more, and her positivity brings on my guilt. All the time and money she has spent on my career may be down the drain. Oh my God, I hope she isn’t mad.
“Mom, I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, and her jaw drops as another sob leaves my lips. “And I don’t understand how this happened because he used a condom and I’m on birth control.”
I want to say more, but I don’t want to make the situation even worse. She has to know I am scared, that I am freaking out, that I’m seeing my whole life circling the drain. A baby is supposed to be a happy occasion. But for one, I don’t love its dad, and for two, I don’t want a child right now. Or ever. I don’t know. It’s not fair; I did everything I’m supposed to.
She drops her head in her hands, and she shakes it slowly. I don’t have to see her face to know she is disappointed. “Oh, Cameron,” she says, and I know she’s upset. She never calls me Cameron. It’s always baby doll or different variations on my name. Fuck me. “Remember when I told you to be careful when you were on those antibiotics? For that sinus infection?”
I wrinkle my face in confusion. “Yeah. What does that have to do with this?”
“Cameron, when you’re on antibiotics, it can mess with your birth control.”
I break out in another sob. “That is the stupidest, most unfair thing in the world!”
“The world isn’t fair, baby doll.”
She’s got that right.
My body shakes with another sob. “Mom, what do I do?”
I meet her gaze, and she looks just as hopeless as I do. “I mean, your spot on the team will be gone if you don’t show up at summer training camp.”
I drop my head into my hands. I know this, but maybe… She starts talking again. “I know it says in the contract that you can apply again—and I know you’ll get back on—but that’s only with a medical issue or an injury. Pregnancy is not a reason for taking a year off. I’ll ask Daddy to get some sort of note from a colleague. Lord knows he’s fibbed to help them a time or two.” I swallow hard as she continues. When she gets anxious, she taps her lip, and it’s almost as if I can see the thoughts racing through her mind. “We’ll help you and get you where you need to be. I’ll raise the baby until you are able to.”
My heart aches as I whisper, “Or I could get an abortion.”
Her finger stops mid-tap as she meets my gaze. “An abortion?”
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “Why bring a child into this world that I don’t want.”
“Because it’s God’s will.”
I press my lips together. “But it’s not mine.”
“Cameron, when I got pregnant with you, I didn’t abort you.”
She can’t even hide the pain in her eyes. “No, Mom, but you struggled with carrying and raising a rapist’s child.”
Her look mirrors mine, her lips pressed together and her eyes full of tears. “I love you.”
“I know, and I love you more than I could ever put into words. Honestly, Mom, I do. But it is unfair that you were forced to have a child by your family because it’s ‘God’s will,’ and then when you had me, you were not taken care of. I know you’ve still got resentment, Mom. I know you blamed your pregnancy with me as the reason you were never able to conceive with Daddy.”
Tears roll down my mom’s face, and each one is like a knife in my back. My mom was molested and raped by the pastor of her church when she was seventeen. She was told she had to have the baby; he promised if she never told, he would take care of her. When I was born, he took his wife and family to another city, and she never heard from or saw him again. When she announced he was the father, her family disowned her.
“How dare you tempt a man of God?”
He was forty-one.
She was seventeen.
I have feelings about this.
My mom struggled, oh-so badly, for seven years. She would work any job with me on her back, or with me under the table coloring or drawing when she had her bank job. No, she wasn’t a teller. She was a custodian. I remember when Grandma White walked in to do some banking business and saw me on the bench, reading. She sat beside me and asked where my parents were. I told her I had no daddy, but my momma was over there, cleaning the window. My mom made all her own cleaning solutions, and soon, they got into a discussion about it. I remember watching them laugh and carry on.