Fallout (44 page)

THE SECOND TIME

Is better than the first. Does

it just keep getting better?

This is probably not the time

to try and find out. Peaks of

afternoon have worn down toward

soft hills of evening. “Guess you’d

better go soon,” I say, wishing

he could stay here forever.

Bryce finishes dressing.
Okay.

I’ll go. But only under protest.

He always says the right thing.

“Can we get together tomorrow?”

He smiles.
Can’t get enough

of me? Well, the feeling is mutual.

Promise infuses the day’s last kiss.

That makes it the best one yet.

I AM LOADING

My sheets into the washer

when a little voice nags,

Uh. Hello? Nice time and

all, but I think you forgot

something kind of important.

Something important, like

protection. You know, birth

control. You
can
get pregnant

the first time, remember?

Or maybe that’s what you want?

Why on earth would I want

to get pregnant? Maybe as

a way to keep Bryce attached

to you? A way to make sure

you won’t be alone after all.

But that might make him

think you trapped him? Might

drive him away? Nah. He’s

the type to stay. Even without

him, you wouldn’t be alone.

THAT LITTLE VOICE

Is crazy. I don’t want to get pregnant.

(I
don’t
want to get pregnant, do I?)

A baby would change my life forever.

(Like my life is so perfect right now?)

I’d have to quit school. Be a dropout.

(You could finish up via the Web.)

I’d get fat. Have morning sickness.

(There are ways around those things.)

Grandfather would disown me.

(Grandfather doesn’t own me now.)

Aunt Cora would be disappointed.

(Aunt Cora has already moved on.)

Marriage is nothing but a trap.

(Who said anything about marriage?)

A baby needs a mom and a dad.

(Not like Bryce would disappear.)

But what if he did disappear?

(Then I’d still have a baby to love.)

A NEW FANTASY

This one can include Bryce and me

in the kitchen, only with a baby,

sleeping soundly in a pink nursery.

A little girl.

I feed Bryce breakfast, kiss him

good-bye. He heads on out the door

to work. The baby wakes.

Wanting her mommy.

I breastfeed her, change her,

put her in a pretty, soft dress.

Take her to the park in a stroller.

Everyone wants to see her.

She’s a model baby. Hardly

ever cries. Has my red hair

and Bryce’s hazel eyes.

The perfect combo.

AM I NUTS?

I am all about order.

Dryer buzzes.

Remove sheets immediately.

Fold, wrinkle-free, perfect corners.

What is a baby?

Dirty diapers.

Messy high chairs.

Sour spit-up on clothes.

Babies need order too.

Clean diapers.

Clean clothes.

Clean high chairs.

Clean babies are happy babies.

Smiling babies.

Cooing babies.

Cuddling babies.

Cuddling babies fill you up.

Fill you with happiness.

Fill you with devotion.

Fill you with love.

I AM MAKING MY BED

When Grandfather and Aunt Cora

breeze through the door, talking

about details. Wedding talk is details.

…
people on the guest list.

…
people in the wedding party.

…
people the church can comfortably hold.

Even all the way down the hall in

my room, I can hear how Grandfather’s

staid voice has bloated with enthusiasm.

… flowers for the altar.

… flowers for bouquets.

… flowers for centerpieces.

Grandfather discussing flowers?

Surreal! They don’t even call my name,

sure of the fact I’m here somewhere.

… reception location.

… reception music.

… reception food.

I don’t want to think about any

of it. I only want to think about

Bryce. Making love. And babies.