Crank (20 page)

And I, being new to the deal, didn't know enough to cut it.

I sold it like I bought it--rich, yellow, moist, and stinky.

* *

I offed the half, went

back for more, offed that, too.

My friends were happy.

Roberto was happy--

enough to front me even more.

* *

And I was nonstop wired.

Nonstop tired,

I needed more and more just to get through the day.

More and more just to feel okay.

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Who knows how much I'd be doing now!

Who knows how much money I might have made?

Who knows if I would

have smoked up all the profits?

Who knows if I would have

ended up in prison--or worse?

* *

But one morning in early

November, I woke up and the moment I got

up, I heaved until I hurt.

It might have been the flu or a bad reaction to Mom's sloppy Joes.

* *

But it wasn't.

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Clear Blue Easy

was clearly blue.

* *

But there was nothing easy

* * about finding

out I was pregnant.

* *

I didn't know

what to do.

* *

I didn't know who to turn to.

* *

You've probably heard

that story before.

But until you're in those shoes,

* *

wearing them seems so straightforward.

* *

Keep your baby?

Give it away?

* *

Abort your baby?

Give it life?

* *

If you think you

have a clear idea,

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try throwing drugs into that picture.

* *

Not quite so cocky

now, are you?

* *

So tell me. How

would you choose?

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I Went

Through

the next few days

pretty much like a zombie.

* *

People wanted crank.

I sold it to them.

* *

Teachers wanted homework.

I gave it to them.

* *

Jake wanted to razz me.

I let him.

* *

Mom wanted to know what was wrong.

I had nothing to say.

* *

The monster called to me too.

For once,

I refused to answer.

* *

Friday night, I crawled into bed, sank way, way low.

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Submerged myself in a world of watery dreams:

* *

Tears. An ocean of tears.

And a baby, a boy, afloat in that salty sea.

* *

He cried out to me.

Could I swim away solo?

Would I drown saving him?

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Saturday

I spent the day:

Throwing up.

Sweating speed.

Shivering.

Shaking.

Tingling all over.

And otherwise fighting the symptoms of withdrawal.

* *

Sunday

* *

I spent the day:

Throwing up.

Sweating speed.

Off-balance.

Confused.

Weeping.

Tumbling end over end, deeper and deeper into the throes of depression.

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Monday

* *

I spent the day:

Throwing up.

Eating.

Emotional.

Dazed.

Lost.

Alone.

Finally, I went to the pay phone and made two calls. One to

Planned Parenthood. The other to

Chase.

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My

Appointment Was at Two

Chase picked me up at noon.

Pale, shaky, I climbed in beside him.

Hi. You look awful.

* *

I smiled. "Whose fault is that?"

We laughed at the not-funny joke and headed into town.

Are you okay?

* *

I shook my head. "I'm pregnant, remember?" I leaned into my hands, let the tears flow.

Please don't cry. I'm here for you.

* *

Here? He was going off to sunny

Southern California. I didn't need

him anyway. Did I?

I

love you. More than I realized.

* *

"I love you, too. But I'm scared,

Chase." He pulled to the side of the road.

I'll

take care of you. The baby, too.

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Was he giving me another choice?

Could I make that decision?

I was only 17.

Marry me, Kristina.

* *

My knees buckled. My stomach

churned. Chase had stepped up to the plate.

The pitch was up to me.

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P

lanned Parenthood

was a cinder-block

nightmare. It felt like prison without the comfort of bars.

Ugly in orange, the waiting room

made me want to throw up. So I did.

* *

A dozen women

gave sympathetic

looks as I returned from the bathroom.

* *

One by one, they

disappeared as a stern woman in white

called their names.

* *

Chase held my hand as we watched them

reappear, one by one, ashen as ghosts.

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A procession of wraiths, that's what it was. And I was in the back of the line.

* *

I rocked against the hard plastic chair.

Finally the woman

called, "Bree Wagner."

* *

Chase flinched, then

whispered in my ear:

I prefer the sound

of Kristina Wagner.

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I

Already Knew My Options

I listened patiently as the saccharine

Ms. Sweetwater outlined them again.

* *

She did confirm that should I choose

abortion, my parents would not

have to know. All I needed was $500 and someone to drive me home.

* *

She gave me the name of a local adoption agency, urged me to consider placing

my baby in a loving home.

* *

And then she asked me the date of my last period.

Hard as it was, I thought

back to a night up at

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Chamberlain Flat, when I used

that period as an excuse to say no.

It was the weekend before school

started. Add a couple of weeks and...

* *

I gained a terrible insight.

Chase was not the baby's father.

* *

Brendan was.

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The

Realization

was like jamming a paperclip into a light socket:

profoundly stunning;

* * like cinching a garbage bag tight around my neck:

completely suffocating.

* *

A mad surge of blood rushed to my brain, pounding temples and eardrums

* * before draining

away completely.

My face went Arctic, diving deep freeze,

* *

glacier blue.

Graveyard cold

hugged me tight, rattling teeth and bones.

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Chase called my

name. Ms. Sweetwater

skittered to her feet and everything went black.

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P

assing Out

is the strangest thing.

One minute

you're here.

* *

Then with a mere

cerebral flutter, you're not

* *

Part of your brain

insists you're dead.

Of course, you're not.

* *

Another part says it's

better there, in the dark.

Where, exactly, are you?

* *

Somewhere, you hear

voices, urgent.

Could you be in limbo?

* *

A thin beam of light

calls to you.

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Will you reach heaven?

* *

Brighter now, white and beautiful.

You hurry in that direction.

* *

Your eyes acquiesce, and open to discover...

you're back in hell, after all.

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Voices

Chase

Sweetwater

Nurse

Doctor

* *

Kristina?

"Bree?"

"Honey?" "Young lady!"

Hello?

"Hello?"

* *

"Heart rate?" "Accelerated."

Wake up!

"Wake up!"

* *

"Breathing?" "Shallow."

Please?

"Now!"

* *

"Here she comes." "There she is."

Talk to me.

"Talk to us."

* *

"She'll be fine." "She's fine."

You fine?

"She's just fine."

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Oh

Yeah, I Was Fine

Dandy in fact

Pregnant by a sex fiend.

Starving for the monster.

Scared to admit either

* * to those close to me who remained

* *

clueless

eyes closed to every

negative

thing about me, or dying

To know every

dirty

little tidbit.

* *

And the only one who knew every little

negative, dirty thing

would have

* *

forgiven

me anything

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C

hase Steadied Me

as we walked to his truck, hand in hand. He opened the door, helped me inside, slid in behind the wheel.

* *

So tell me.

* *

I considered playing

ignorant, but knew he wouldn't let go.

"About the baby..."

* *

My eyes unlocked from his, but not quickly

enough to conceal the truth.

* *

Brendan is the father.

* *

My throat constricted, like a rubber band twisting around my admission.

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"Oh, God, Chase.

It's all so wrong!"

* *

Our eyes reconnected.

In his, I found sympathy.

And jealousy.

* *

It doesn't matter, Kristina.

We can make it right.

500

He Drove Me Home--Slowly

My stomach flip-flopped with every curve and brake.

* *

Finally, he asked,

So what do you think?

I had no answers.

None at all.

* *

So he joked,

Should be a cute kid, anyway.

Which made me smile but still gave me no answers.

* *

He offered,

Don't answer me now.

Not then, but soon.

I was already six weeks p.g.

* *

He probed,

I

know it's a tough decision.

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Tough. Too tough.

And all mine to make.

* *

He dared,

but life is full of tough decisions.

Like a guy would ever

have to face

this

one.

* *

He suggested,

Maybe you should talk to your mom.

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My Mom?!?!

The ice princess? The bitch queen?

The "mother" of all mothers?

* *

What was he thinking?

How could I talk to

her?

* *

We hadn't really talked in months.

What would I tell her now?

* *

That I was pregnant?

That I was pregnant because I was raped?

That I was raped because I would have done

* *

anything

* * for just one more taste of the monster?

* *

Where would I start?

Where would I finish?

How much to admit?

How much to hide?

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How much to confess?

* *

Where would I find such nerve without crank to open my mouth?

* *

And if I did dig down deep enough to find it, would I crumble and weep?

* *

Would she?

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T

he Kitchen Was Warm

and carried a scent of hot butter, wrapped in cinnamon.

* *

It reminded me of when I was little.

* *

Before Jake.

Before Scott.

Despite Dad.

* *

Back when I still believed

Mom was the perfect mother.

She, Leigh, and I were the trinity.

* *

We baked together.

Canned together.

Planned together.

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Plotted birthdays and holidays around homemade gifts

that didn't cost much but time and love.

* *

And the fun was not only in the giving, but in the shared creation.

* *

I adored Mom then.

* *

Could my own child

ever love me so?

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S

omehow She Didn't Notice

the wavering tone of my "Hi, Mom."

* *

I sat down at the table and she brought