What Kind of Love? (3 page)

On the other hand, Daddy is being great. I think he's trying to keep us out of Mom's way so she can spend all her time with Grandma. Yesterday when Mom went with Grandma to the doctor, he took me and Nick to this Chinese restaurant for lunch. It looked like a dump, but the food was wonderful. Then we went to this music store that had
everything,
and he said we each could choose one thing. I picked Rachmaninoff's Second, even though I don't think I'll be able to play it. It's so romantic.

Today we went sailing on Uncle Bela's boat. Daddy let us all take turns steering the boat. We were going fast, and the boat was keeling until I was almost in the water. Sandy was screaming, “It's going to turn over. Stop, Daddy! Stop!” But Daddy just laughed.

When it was Nick's turn, he almost sailed us right into a big tour boat. Daddy kept yelling at him, “Turn your tiller. More to starboard, away from you, more, more.” We would have rammed into the other boat if Daddy hadn't grabbed the tiller away from him at the last minute. The captain of the boat waved his fist at us. Nick and I thought it was hilarious. Sandy was furious and said she'd never get in a boat with us again.

Nick said he wouldn't have hit it. He only wanted to see how close he could come. He would have turned away at the last minute. I thought Daddy was going to bawl Nick out, but he just took over and didn't let Nick take the tiller again.

It was fun. Daddy says if we really want to learn how to sail, he'll take us out in the harbor at Newport Beach. They rent boats there. I would love to go sailing with Peter. Only five more days until I see him again. I wish I were in his arms right now.

Wednesday, June 26

I bought the home pregnancy test kit this morning on my way over to see Grandma. I was terrified. They were on the shelf right under the partition for the area where they fill prescriptions, and I know the druggist was watching me. I grabbed a test and walked to the register. I thought someone might say something or give me a look, but no one did. I just paid for the test, put it in my backpack, and walked out.

I know the man behind the desk was watching me. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time I was waiting for the elevator. It made me feel real self-conscious. As soon as I was in the room, I put the kit in with all of my dirty clothes where no one will look. I don't want to take it now because Sandy will be back any minute and I might still get my period.

Thursday, June 27

I practiced with Grandpa today, and now I understand why Mom quit. He was working with me on my bowing and kept yelling, “More tone, more tone, louder.” It was exhausting. He really is hypercritical. He kept stopping me and making me play every passage over again. Whenever I messed up, he shouted, “No! No! Not that way!” Then he would do it so I could hear how it was supposed to sound.

Afterward, when we were having tea with Grandma, Grandpa told me that if I want to be a violinist, nothing should matter to me right now except my music. It has to come before everything. “None of this sex business,” he said. “All of your energy and passion should go into your music if you want to be good. Save the sex for later.”

I had a hard time keeping a straight face when he said that. But I have to admit he's probably right that I'm going to have to concentrate and work on my playing if I want to make it.

Friday, June 28

The duet with Grandpa this evening was a giant success. I was good. Even Grandpa, who hardly ever says anything good about anyone's playing, said so. Daddy was crying, though he'd never admit it. He said he just had something in his eye.

Oh, please, dear God, let me not be pregnant. It would hurt Mom and Daddy so much.

Saturday, June 29

I'm pregnant! The test was positive. I did it in the bathroom this morning when Sandy went to help Susie get ready. My hand was shaking so badly I could hardly read it, but it was pink, pink for positive. What am I going to do? I can't be pregnant. I'm only fifteen!

I took off all of my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. My breasts are big, bigger than they have ever been, and feel heavy and hard. My nipples are darker, too. My stomach is not as flat as it used to be, either, and it will get bigger.

I can't go to the wedding. I can't face them.

I told Mom I had a headache and came upstairs to the room after the reception started. I just wanted to die. I went out on the balcony and I climbed over the rail. I stared down twenty-three stories to the street in front of the hotel. I wanted to jump, but I couldn't do it. I climbed back onto the balcony and sat there for hours. Then everyone from the reception came pouring out of the hotel. The crowd parted, and the bride and bridegroom rushed out, holding hands. Everyone was crowding around, throwing rice at them, and they were ducking and laughing. Mark opened the car door for Susie. She stopped to throw her wedding bouquet into the crowd and then got into the car. Mark leaned down and kissed her before he closed the door.

I'll never be in a scene like that now. You don't have big weddings when you're pregnant. You just get married, if you're lucky. But Peter won't want to get married because he has all these plans for what he's going to do—like college and med school. I don't know what to do. Soon everyone will know.

Monday, July 1

Why doesn't he call? I called him as soon as we got home yesterday and left a message. What if he stopped loving me while I was gone? What if he found someone else, like Sarah? Even though he says he's not interested, she's beautiful and she wants him. He can't like Sarah. I need him. He has to love me. He can't leave me to face this by myself. It's his fault. I wouldn't be pregnant if it wasn't for him.

Tuesday, July 2

He called. His grandmother had a stroke. He is staying with his grandfather. I didn't say anything, but he could tell something was wrong. I said I couldn't talk about it on the phone. I'd tell him when he got back on Thursday.

I don't know how I'll make it till then.

Today was my first day at the nursery. It was okay, considering.… We were so busy, I didn't have time to think about anything.

Wednesday, July 3

Went to work. Dianne and I played tennis after work. She won. I'm really not very good. I wonder why she even plays with me. She wanted me to come over and go swimming afterward. I said I couldn't. My breasts have gotten so big, I'm popping out of my bikini and I'm afraid she'll notice. I wonder if people can tell yet. I can't stand this. I wish Peter were here.

Thursday, July 4

Everyone went to the Jacobsens' Fourth of July party except me. I told them I didn't want to go. Daddy grumbled about it, but Mom said I'd ruin it for them if they had to force me. Peter came over right after they left. I was so scared, I started to cry when he walked in the door.

All the color left his face as soon as I told him. He didn't want to believe me and he asked me again, hoping, I guess, that I would say I was just joking. He looked like he was going to cry when I said I was serious. “You have to do something, Val,” he said.

That got me, and suddenly I was yelling at him, “
You
have to do something about it. It's your fault. You wanted to do it.”

I was sorry the minute the words were out of my mouth. We sat there without saying anything. Then he got up to go. He said he'd figure something out.

He started for the door. All at once he turned around and grabbed me up in his arms and held me to him so tight I could feel his heart pounding against me. We stood there holding each other for a long time. I don't know how long. I wanted to do it because then I'd know he loved me. But he didn't. He was shaking and he just wanted to be held.

I felt empty and sad when he left. I looked through the photo albums. There was a picture of Daddy and me climbing over Piute Pass in the Sierras last summer. Daddy thinks I'm his sweet little girl, his princess. What will he think of me now?

Suddenly I had to get out of there. I couldn't stand being in the house—their house—anymore. I took my bike, just riding around, going nowhere. That was me, going nowhere—I didn't realize I'd swerved into a car until I hit the pavement.

The driver of the car stopped. He was shouting at me, “Are you crazy?” The woman who was behind him got out of her car. “It's not my fault,” he said, pointing at me. “She rode into me.”

“Oh, shut up. Can't you see she's hurt?” another man said, rushing up behind her. He put his arm around me and made me sit down on the curb and told me his wife was calling an ambulance.

I said I was okay, but no one was listening to me, and I was afraid that the ambulance was going to come. I grabbed my bike and took off before anyone could stop me. The front fender was bent out of shape, and it scraped the tire all the way home.

Mom and Daddy made a fuss when they got home and saw me. I told them I hit something on the road and fell. And they believed me, their dear, good little girl. I hate myself. I wish I were dead.

Saturday, July 6

Peter and I drove to the park this evening to talk about it. It was another bad scene. When we got there, we saw all of these homeless people. There must have been sixty of them in the parking lot—all ages, even kids. They stood around in small groups of twos and threes. Usually, with that many people in one place, there's a hum, but it was quiet, so quiet.

A truck pulled into the parking lot, and they all crowded around it. The people in the truck had a bullhorn that echoed so I couldn't catch what was said, but it must have been an order to line up, because that is what they did. Then someone opened the gate of the truck and began handing out food.

There was this girl who was fifteen or sixteen, my age. She was carrying a baby in one arm and had a dirty bedroll slung on her back. She didn't seem to be with anyone. Did she run away? Was she kicked out of her house because of the baby? Will they kick me out?

After the people left, Peter and I got out of the car and walked down the hill to the swings. I asked him if he'd told anyone about it. He said no. I didn't believe him. He got all upset and said I was being crazy. “If we don't do something about it soon, everyone will know. So what does it matter who I told? It was only my cousin Beth. She won't tell anyone.”

Of all the people! His cousin Beth! She has the biggest mouth in the whole world. I couldn't believe he'd done that. I was so upset, I got off the swing and ran out of the playground. Peter ran after me and grabbed me by the arm. “You want me to take care of it. Well, I am,” he shouted. He was hurting my arm and I was crying.

He led me to a picnic bench. We sat there until I calmed down. He said his cousin Beth was disgusted with him for not using condoms. She told him I should go to Planned Parenthood. I don't need an appointment there, and they'll arrange for me to get an abortion. She's loaning him the money to pay for it.

He thinks it's so simple. You just walk in, put down your money, and it's all over in a few minutes. He doesn't know what he's talking about. He can tell me that it's safe, but it's me who has to do it, not him.

Sunday, July 7

I never said I'd get an abortion! All I said was I would find out about it. Peter thinks that because I said I'd go to Planned Parenthood with him on Friday, I'm going to have one. I don't want to. I don't know what else to do, though.

Monday, July 8

Last night I had a nightmare. I dreamed I had the abortion and I died, and Planned Parenthood had to call Mom and Daddy and tell them.

Peter says people don't die during a legal abortion in a clinic. But he only knows what his cousin Beth says, and she just wants to get him out of this. She doesn't care about me.

I wish Carrie weren't in Montana so I could talk to her about it. At least she cares what happens to me.

Tuesday, July 9

I was going to call and cancel my lesson for today because I didn't think I'd be able to concentrate and it would be a waste. But I forgot and had to go. Mrs. Rykoff was wearing another one of her ethnic costumes. I think it was from Afghanistan or someplace like that. Once we got into the music, it wasn't bad. She said, “Vonderful … O-o-oh, zat iz nice, very nice, my dear,” when I played the Vivaldi. And I didn't have to do the Kreutzer exercises, which was a giant relief because they are
so
boring. Then we started work on the Bach. She made me take the slow movement apart, counting very carefully. “Now leesten, my dear. Leesten carefully,” she kept telling me. It
is
gorgeous.

If I don't go to Planned Parenthood on Friday, Peter won't speak to me again. I wish it would go away without my doing anything. Why can't I just have a miscarriage?

Wednesday, July 10

Peter's grandmother died last night. He went to Los Angeles for the funeral. I really shouldn't be so selfish, but when he told me, I kept thinking, why did she have to go and die now? I finally got myself all psyched up to go to Planned Parenthood, and now I can't. I can't go by myself. I'm too scared.

Poor Peter! He loved her. He says that his grandma and grandpa were the only nice people in his father's family. His grandma always made him these chocolate pecan cookies. And every holiday—even St. Patrick's Day and Halloween—she sent him and Mike these silly cards and ten dollars each to buy themselves a treat.

Grandma will probably die soon, too, because of the cancer. I wish I could call her and tell her how much I love her. Daddy would have a fit if I called Chicago, though, because we just saw them.

Friday, July 12

I had today off, but Peter's still in Los Angeles. The one person around was Dianne. She was only going over to the recycling center where she's volunteering this summer, but I went with her, anyway.