Immaculate (10 page)

There was barely one full ring before Nate answered, like he'd just been staring at the phone, waiting all day to hear from me.

“
Mina!
Thank God. I just got home from DC a little bit ago and I was about to drive over there if I didn't hear from you soon.”

“Nate . . .”

“I've been really worried about you, Meen. It's not like you to get this sick. You scared the shit out of me when you were too sick to even pick up the phone to say ‘happy anniversary.' But I guess that's why you were so tired last week. How are you feeling? Any better?”

“I'm okay. I'm . . . I'm so sorry I didn't call sooner.” I paused, taking a deep breath, and forced myself to keep going. I could feel my dad watching me, waiting for me to say what had to be said. “Can you still come over now?”

“Yeah, of course. Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“No, thanks, though. I just . . . I just want to talk to you. About something.”

“You need to talk about
something
? Is everything all right? What's going on?”

I started to say yes, everything was fine, I was all right, but I couldn't lie to him. Everything wouldn't be fine, and I wouldn't be all right, not after I told him.

“Just come over as soon as you can, okay? I love you.” I hung up before he could say anything else.

“Are you happy now?” I asked my dad, tilting my head up to meet his eyes.
“Are you?”
I was shouting, practically spitting at my dad's face, but I didn't care. He deserved to feel at least a small piece of the pain and suffering that he was putting me through. “Are you happy that I'm about to lose someone I really, genuinely love and care about?”

He sighed. “This is his responsibility, too, Mina,” he said, as if he were explaining something entirely new and groundbreaking to me. “I expect that he's man enough to work through it with you. And I certainly hope for the child's sake that this isn't the end for you two.”

I laughed, and it came out as a cold, hard shriek. “You don't get it. You don't get it, and maybe you never will.” I pulled myself out of my mom's grip and slid farther down on the bed. She might believe me, she might be my most loyal ally, but she hadn't done anything to stop him. I knew deep down that she probably couldn't have fought him off any better than I had, but I couldn't be close to her, either, right now.

“Can you both please leave my room?” I asked, pointing at the door. “I need to be alone. You can call me down when Nate gets here, and then you can sit and watch the destruction for yourself. It'll be fabulous entertainment, A-plus epic drama, exactly what you asked for. Just you wait and see.”

• • •

I wouldn't have needed to be in the room, sitting next to Nate on the faded gingham loveseat, my parents perched on the edge of the sofa across from us, to know exactly how the conversation would play out.

I felt my voice shift into automatic as I went through the details of the Iris encounter. On my third time telling it, the words all came out very neatly, streamlined, almost like a bedtime story worn in from being read out loud night after night. I saw Nate's perfect, beautiful face pinch up in confusion and disbelief, saw as it morphed into anger and repulsion and hurt, so much hurt, when he finally understood what I was trying to tell him, why I had called him over to my house.

“This isn't serious, Mina,” he said at the end, his dark, bottomless eyes begging for me to tell him that this was all some elaborate, senseless joke, some strange fever-induced babbling that had nothing to do with our real lives. He wanted to prick a hole in the terrible bubble that was growing bigger and bigger, swallowing the entire room, and go straight back to normal
—pop! bang! swoosh!—
as if none of this had ever happened.

“It's serious, Nate. It's all serious.” I wanted to reach out and put my hand on top of his hand, lock my fingers into his so that he couldn't get up and walk out the door. But I couldn't—I didn't think I could handle the rejection of him yanking his hand away.

Why didn't I have sex with him?

Why hadn't I just let it happen? Why not on that perfect night up in the tree house? I loved him, I definitely loved him, and he loved me. If we'd been having sex, he would have believed that the baby was his. We both would have, of course. There'd be no other option, Iris or no Iris. Believing in anything Iris said was only possible in the absence of all other scientific explanations. It was a last resort, something to cling to when there was nothing else left.

But if I had lost my virginity to Nate, he would have stood by me and supported me. We would have raised the child together. Or we would have decided that I should have an abortion or give the baby up for adoption, but we would have made those decisions together, too.

But I hadn't had sex with him, and after this, I never would.

“Nathaniel,” my dad said, clearing his throat to warm up.

I'd never heard him say Nathaniel before—it was always just Nate, to me, to everyone—and the sound of his full name felt so formal and unfamiliar, like someone I didn't know. My dad hadn't spoken once since we'd sat down in the living room, letting me tell the Iris story on my own, no interruptions, but I could tell from his constant squirming and foot tapping that his mind was leaping ahead to the questions he needed to ask and the answers he needed Nate to give.

“Now, Mina is fully intending on having this child. I respect her decision to not have an abortion, of course, but you can understand that I'm very worried about what's to come down the road. I think that the two of you need to very, very seriously consider adoption here. Recognize that it's the best option for both of your futures.” He put his hand up, as if to stop any potential argument before it started. “You two kids have so much potential, so much life and opportunity ahead of you, that you owe it to yourselves to at least think about giving this child to some other responsible, grateful couple, instead of raising it on your own. There are so many families who would be much better equipped to give this child the life he or she deserves.”

I thought again of my baby growing up as part of someone else's life, completely removed from my own, and my stomach twisted.
No!
I wanted to scream. This was
my
life.
My
baby. There was a reason. There had to be a reason.

“Mr. Dietrich . . .” Nate started, and my muscles tensed, knowing what would undoubtedly be coming next.

“I know this is a lot to be hit with all at once, so I don't expect you to have any immediate answers,” my dad said, plowing on, too absorbed in his own monologue to notice anyone's reactions. “But six or so months will be over before you know it, and you need to start planning now. Mina may be the one carrying this child, but these decisions clearly involve you, and I'd like to see the two of you make it through this together. You know, I've always liked you, Nathaniel, and this doesn't have to change everything. We all make mistakes, and life is about how you react to those mistakes.” He folded his arms and tilted his head toward Nate, signaling that now, finally, he could take the floor.

“I appreciate everything you're saying, Mr. Dietrich,” Nate said quietly, “but this is not my child. Without getting graphic, there is absolutely no conceivable, scientifically possible way that this is my child. So you're wrong. These decisions have nothing to do with me. None of this has anything to do with me, not anymore.” He stood up, looking back down at me with tears spilling from his eyes. I'd never seen Nate cry before.

“Nate, please,” I said, whimpering, as I stood up to face him. “Please believe me. Please give me a chance to prove myself.”

“You're pregnant, Mina, and I'm not the father,” he said, his voice shaking as he tried to fight back a sob. “How do you think that makes me feel, Mina? I loved you so much,
so much
, and you . . . How could you do this to me?” The last words came out louder, angrier, and he looked over at my parents, weighing the fact that they were listening to all this. He kept going, though, clearly unable to leave without telling me exactly what he thought about everything. What he thought about me.

“You cheated on me, Mina, and now you don't even have the decency to admit you did anything wrong? I can't believe you—you of all people—would ever be capable of doing something like this. You weren't having sex with me, but you'd sleep with someone else?” He put a fist to his mouth and looked down at his feet, cheeks flaming red. “You're disgusting. I don't want to talk to you ever again. And after we graduate, I never want to have to see your face for the rest of my life.”

Something inside, something deep down and dangerously fragile, collapsed, and I started sobbing. I didn't care how desperate I looked. I didn't care that my parents were watching from just a few feet away, jaws dropped, totally unsure of how to respond to a scene that no parent should ever have to witness. I grabbed at Nate's arms, his T-shirt, his jeans, clawing at some small piece of him to hold on to, some small piece to keep for myself—until I looked up, straight into his eyes, and saw them burning with a hatred I'd never have been able to imagine him feeling about anything or anyone in the world. I had to step back, my whole body scorched from his glare. My fingertips were numb where they'd last grazed his skin, and the feeling was spreading up through my arms and across my chest, into my heart.

“Good-bye, Mr. Dietrich, Mrs. Dietrich. I'm sorry I can't help you. And I'm sorry it had to end like this.” He started for the front door and I stumbled after him, my mind still racing to think of something I could do, something I could say to make this any less final.

“Nate,” I said, grabbing on to his shoulder. He flinched and shook me off, but I realized that I still needed to ask him one favor—one incredibly important favor—before he left me.

“Nate, wait,” I said, gasping. “I just have one thing to ask. And then I'll let you go, I promise. I won't bother you. I'll leave you alone.” He stopped moving, but he didn't turn around to face me.

“What, Mina? What could you possibly have to ask me?”

“Please don't tell anyone about this. Please let me figure out how I'm going to explain this to everyone at school.”

“You didn't have to ask. I'm not going to run around telling everyone that you're pregnant with some other guy's baby. It doesn't exactly make me look good either, does it?”

I nodded in gratitude, relieved, before remembering that he still had his back to me. “Thank you, Nate. I really appreciate that.”

“Whatever, Mina. It's your business. But you won't be able to hide this for long. It's going to be obvious to everyone soon enough that you're pregnant, so good luck figuring that story out. Good luck with your baby and good luck with life.” He pushed open the screen door and stomped across the porch, head down, eyes fixed on the ground.

I stood there for a moment, stuck in the doorway, unable to pull my eyes away from him until he disappeared entirely.

“Mina?” a small, hushed voice called out from somewhere outside, just beyond the door. The sound was so familiar, but I couldn't label it, not instantly, because it had no place in that moment. My hand rose to my lips in panic, and I bit down on my fingertips.

“Gracie?”
No,
please, no
.
Don't be there.
I imagined that voice. Please let me have imagined that voice.

“Mina . . .” she said again, stepping out into the soft twilight glow of the porch. “Why did Nate just say that you're having a baby? Is it true? Are you really pregnant?” Her big crystal blue eyes were wide and watery, staring up at me, waiting for my answer.

My aunt Vera shifted from the shadows just beyond my vision and stood next to Gracie, putting her hands on Gracie's shoulders to keep her steadied.

“Mina, oh God, I'm so sorry . . . I didn't mean to interrupt. I should have called before I dropped her off. I didn't know—I thought you had a stomach bug, and I figured you knew I'd be bringing her home sometime this evening . . .”

“Mina?” Gracie asked again, her little voice faltering. I could see her petal pink lips trembling, but she was fighting her tears, holding out for whatever I was about to say.

“Gracie?”

I jumped at the sudden sound of my mom's voice. I turned around to see her and my dad standing just a few feet behind me, their faces looking as horrified as I felt.

“Somebody tell me what's happening,” Gracie demanded, sounding older and more grown-up than I'd ever heard her before.

I didn't want her to have to be older and more grown-up. Not because of me.

“Gracie . . .” my dad started, pushing me aside to be closer to her. “We're not talking about this right now, sweetie. I'm sorry, but I don't think you're ready for this conversation.”

“Stop, Dad. Just stop,” I said, stooping down so that I was at Gracie's height. “There's no point in keeping it a secret. Gracie, it's true. I am pregnant. And it's not Nate's baby, it's not anyone's baby but mine.”

“Mina, don't tell her this nonsense!” my dad yelled. “You're going to confuse her!”

I put my hands on Gracie's shoulders and pulled her toward me. “This sounds crazy, but I think that this baby might be some kind of miracle, Gracie.”

It was the first time I'd said the word out loud, the first time I tried it against my lips. “A miracle,” I said again, letting the word sink in. “I don't know why it happened to me, but it has, and I just want you to trust me and have faith in me. Even if that takes a little time for you to come to, I'll be here. Okay?”

She stared at me, completely silent and unreadable. Everyone else on the porch was frozen in place, waiting for her to react.