Immaculate (27 page)

Aunt Vera and Uncle Teddy came over for Christmas dinner with Lucy and Danny—both of whom immediately pounced on Gracie, begging for turns at pushing Baby Mira around. I did my best to look merry and bright with the rest of the adults, hovering around my mom and aunt in the kitchen. But when I saw my phone light up with Jesse's name, I was thankful for a good reason to excuse myself.

“Merry Christmas,” I said, closing my bedroom door behind me.

“Merry Christmas, Mina.”

“It's strange, you know, a full day without having you and the camera shadowing me. I'm not used to going unrecorded.”

He laughed on the other end, but I knew him well enough to know that his eyes and his lips didn't match the sound.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. “About last night—”

“Mina, it's fine, really. Don't worry about it. I called because I wanted to ask if you've . . . if you've checked out the website at all today.”

I hadn't. A day without Virgin Mina updates was my Christmas present to myself. I hadn't even felt the urge, not really. Christmas was always that way for me, a day to feel entirely disconnected and removed from the outside world, to soak up every minute with my family, lying around in pajamas eating cinnamon buns and candy canes until we all passed out on the couch, deep in our sugar comas.

“No. I'm afraid to ask.”

“Damn,” he said, sighing. “I knew I probably shouldn't have said anything until tomorrow. But I was worried that you did see it and were too upset to call, and I didn't want that to happen either.”

“What does it say, Jesse? Just tell me.” I sat down on the edge of my bed.

“It's us. From last night. A few of them, actually. You're leaning in pretty close to me in one of the photos. I know you were just whispering something to me, but in the picture . . . in the picture it looks like we're about to kiss. And the others . . . Well, your arms are wrapped around me. It was after the guy with the camera popped out and scared you. But we look pretty close in the pictures, Mina. We look a little more than friendly.”

The phone was suddenly blazing hot in my hands. I wanted to look, but I didn't want to look. I could already imagine the scene in my head more clearly than any photo could have captured. This was why I had said no when Jesse had kissed me. This was why I had pushed him away. It wasn't right, dragging him into the spotlight next to me. I hadn't been careful enough, but I would try harder. I had to.

“I'm so sorry this is happening,” I said, the guilt swirling in my gut. “Where did you see the pictures? Where are they posted?”

“They're on the Virgin Mina site, which is where I first saw them. But they're on a few news sites that I've found, too. No respectable ones, but they're definitely up there pretty widely for people to see. There's a lot of speculation about me now. About us. And the fact that I'm with your family for Christmas Eve makes it look like we're pretty serious, I guess.”

“Did they say anything about my dad? About the fight?”

“No, actually. At least not from what I've read. The cameraman probably didn't want to admit that he was wrecked by your dad, and on top of that, it is in exceptionally poor taste that he was lurking outside of a church to catch you. He probably didn't want to bring any extra attention to that.”

“So people think you're definitely the dad now?”

“More or less.”

“I'm sorry that you're becoming such a big part of this,” I said, my face hot with shame. Even now I couldn't stop thinking about our kiss, remembering the way his lips had felt so perfectly shaped to match my own. How sugary sweet they had tasted, how silky his hair had felt between my fingers. I pinched my eyes shut, willing it all away. “I never should have let you get close to me, Jesse. This is my fault. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen to you. Your reputation—”

“I already told you, reputation means nothing to me,” he said, cutting me off. I could practically see his head shaking through the phone line. “It was my decision to get close to you, Mina. We know the truth, and once we put our video out there for people to see, maybe at least a few of the intelligent people will, too. Besides, there are worse things in the world than people thinking I'm your boyfriend.”

“Maybe that would be true if I wasn't some insane pregnant virgin.”

“Pregnant and a virgin, maybe, but not insane.”

“But aren't you upset that people think you could be the dad? That you're just as much a part of this lie as I am?”

He paused, a long breath crackling through the phone. “I mean, sure, I wish that total strangers wouldn't make accusations about me. But I can't stop them from making up their own stories. I
can
refuse to let them change the way I live my life, though. I'm not going to stop spending time with you. I'm not going to hide.”

I smiled, even as a tear dripped down my cheek. “I don't deserve you.”

“I think we've had this argument before. Get back to your family, okay? We can talk about this tomorrow. Let's do something fun this week—go on a day trip or something. We need to get you out and about before you're too pregnant to move.”

He hung up before I could pretend to yell at him, and after a few minutes of staring blankly out my window, I drifted back downstairs. I decided to not tell anyone else about the photos, not until after Christmas was officially over.

And even though a large part of me knew I should be upset by the pictures, upset that people would jump to the wrong conclusions about Jesse's role in all this, I couldn't completely ignore the bubble of happiness floating above my head.

Jesse was right.

There were far worse things in the world than having people think that he could be my boyfriend—a girl could only be so lucky. But I still couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let myself be that girl. He deserved a normal high school relationship. He deserved to be happy without all the complexities and all the conditions.

And most of all, he deserved to love someone who wasn't too scared to love him back.

chapter sixteen

“So, Mina,” Dr.
Keller asked, wheeling her stool around to face me. “Have you given your birth plan much consideration since we last met?”

We'd already finished the rundown of checkups—weight and blood pressure, size and position of the baby, and the heartbeat, always my favorite part. Jamie had left to help with another patient down the hall, leaving the two of us alone in the exam room.

“I wrote some things down,” I said, pulling the paper out of my purse and handing it to her. “I've given a lot of thought to pain medication, and I've decided not to take it. I want this to be as natural as possible, unless of course something goes wrong and it's absolutely necessary. It just doesn't feel right to go about this in an unnatural way, if that makes any sense. I want the full experience, for better or for worse.”

Dr. Keller nodded, making some notes in my file.

“And I know I've been a little back and forth about this, but I need this to be a home birth. I'm positive about that.” I paused, bracing myself for any resistance. Dr. Keller looked up at me, calmly pushing a few stray red curls away from her eyes as she waited for me to continue. “I know there are risks involved, but I've had a normal, healthy pregnancy so far, and the hospital is only fifteen minutes away if there is an emergency. I can't have reporters waiting outside of the hospital, outside of the room, Dr. Keller. The attention is only going to get worse the closer I get to labor, and I'm not putting my baby in the public's hands like that. I want to be at home, in my own bed, with you and my family there. If you can't be there, I understand. But I need to have this baby in private, one way or another.”

“I'm not going to lie to you, Mina. It's not exactly . . . standard protocol for me to do that, to come into your home for the birth. But I've put a lot of thought into this, too, you know, because you're not exactly my standard case.” She smiled, looking just as nervous as I felt, and I couldn't help but smile back at her. “I want to do this for you. We'll make it work, okay?”

I unclenched my hands from the sides of the exam table, relief spreading through me. I'd been certain that she was going to try to scare me out of the home birth, convince me that a traditional hospital birth was the better, safer choice. But I'd started having a recurring bad dream—our driveway so mobbed with reporters that I couldn't get to the hospital fast enough, and I went into labor right there, right in front of hundreds of flashing cameras. I shuddered even then, fully awake in the brightly lit exam room, blinking my eyes to flush out the image.

“How are things, Mina?” she asked, closing her folder, a sign that the question was more personal than professional. She'd been different, less hesitant, since our talk, and she hadn't brought up the idea of counseling since. She was still my doctor, serious and efficient and as crisp as her white jacket. But she was more than that, too. She was another guardian standing next to me and my baby, another defense I hadn't expected to have.

“I can't stop thinking about you, I have to say. Worrying about all the stress you're going through, wondering how you're able to hold your head up high with everything that's been happening. You're amazingly strong.”

Her expression was so sincere that I had to fight the urge to hop up and kiss her on the cheek. It wasn't that Dr. Keller was ever a cold woman, because she was always very friendly. But to see her that concerned, to know that she cared about me, that I wasn't just a random patient to check off the to-do list—it made me appreciate her in an entirely new way.

“It's not easy,” I said. “But there are good days, too.”

“I wish there was more I could do for you, Mina, I really do. I mean it when I say that you can call me whenever, even if it's after hours. I'm always available.”

I nodded, afraid to speak, because if I did, I wasn't sure that I'd be able to stop.

“Your mom must be very proud of how well you're handling all this. I see a lot of twentysomethings and thirtysomethings even who aren't halfway as put-together as you are at eighteen.”

The dam burst, and there was no more holding back. I gave in to it, let all my deepest, darkest thoughts and fears escape out into that exam room. “I'm just scared sometimes, Dr. Keller. All the time, really. I'm scared that I'll do something wrong, that I won't be a good enough mother. I'm scared that somebody will try to hurt my baby, and that people will never leave us alone. We'll never have a normal life. We'll never be safe.”

The worries dropped out, hot and heavy, one after another, words that I'd never said out loud before. I sagged against the back of the exam table, feeling drained from my confession.

“Oh, Mina. Oh, Mina, Mina,” Dr. Keller said, her voice a soothing purr as she stood and leaned over me, her hands smoothing my hair behind my ears, just like my mother would have done. Dr. Keller, my mom—they were so effortlessly maternal. Strong, nurturing, sensitive by nature. I knew from my mom that Dr. Keller and her husband had two adopted children, and I'd always wondered if she couldn't conceive—a sad irony for someone who spent her days bringing other women's babies into the world.

But what if I wouldn't be like them? I didn't feel ready to be a mother, but I hoped that it would click, that it would all fall into place once the baby was in my arms. But maybe I wouldn't be enough. Maybe I'd already made too many mistakes.

“Every new mother is scared, Mina. Every single one. She wouldn't be a good mother if she wasn't. Being a mom means a whole lot of being scared for the rest of your life. But one thing you need to realize now to save yourself a lot of time and stressing for the rest of your life—there's no perfect mom. Not possible.” She smiled down at me, her eyes twinkling behind that day's thick green frames. “Every mom makes mistakes, a hundred little ones every day, probably. Trust me. My kids could tell you. But that's okay. A mom learns, she moves on, she makes another mistake. That's life, Mina. You can't put so much energy into worrying about all the little details. A baby isn't like a final exam. There's no perfect answer for every decision. You make the best out of what you're working with. You cut yourself some slack, and you forgive yourself. Got it?”

I nodded, letting her words soak into me, willing them to stay trapped deep inside where I couldn't let them go. I needed them—needed their truth to keep me sane.

It was terrifying, but it was freeing, too, not to have one clear “perfect” to aspire to, no set 100 percent to always be reaching for. Not anymore.

“And everything else that you're experiencing, Mina, on top of all the normal mom fears . . . that's why I'm just so amazed by you. It's good that you're letting it out. You can't keep all this bottled up.”

“I know,” I said, knotting my hands around my stomach. “I know it's not good for the baby that I have all this stress. But I can't pretend it's not all happening. I can't not be scared when I have so many people all around the world who hate me. Do you see the things they say about me online, Dr. Keller? Do you read the messages that complete strangers post about me?”

“I do,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I hate reading them, but I hate not reading them, too. I want to know what people are saying, just to know what you're up against.”

“I check them every day, too. Have you seen the latest?” I laughed, in spite of the fact that nothing was funny. “The Christmas Eve photos of me and Jesse in what everyone thinks was a compromising position, but what was really just me whispering a stupid apology to him. Scandalous, huh?”

“There are very cruel and very ignorant people in this world, Mina. Your pregnancy is making that horrifyingly apparent.”

“I just don't understand, Dr. Keller. I don't understand the kind of anger—the kind of
passion
—that drives complete strangers to feel this involved in my life. Who are these people, really? Do they seem normal in their everyday life? Are they schoolteachers, nurses, lawyers—people who seem completely rational and stable? And then they come home at night, or they take their lunch break, and they go online and they write that I'll burn in hell? That my baby will burn in hell with me? I just don't understand where it comes from. The fervor. The idea that it's their duty, almost, to condemn me. Or maybe it's just sick entertainment for them. They're bored or they're angry at their own lives somehow, and I've become some kind of outlet. It's unreal, Dr. Keller. It's just so unreal to me that these people . . . they actually exist. And they think
I'm
the one who's doing something wrong?” I laughed again at the irony of it all, swiping at the tears dotting the corners of my eyes.

“Technology,” Dr. Keller started, voice trembling and her cheeks splotchy red as she fought to compose herself. “Technology makes people feel too powerful, Mina. They can say things online that they'd be too cowardly to ever say to someone's face. It's a cheap, artificial kind of strength. These people who hate so much, hate without even really knowing . . . their hate is more about them than you, Mina. They're weak. And they're scared. People like that, they always need a target. They need to point a finger at someone besides themselves. You're so much better than they are, Mina. Deep down maybe they know that. Maybe that's why they're so angry.”

I hopped off the table and crossed the floor to face her. I reached my arms out and hugged her, wrapped myself tightly around her as I closed my eyes and leaned into the fresh lemony scent of her coat.

“Thank you, Dr. Keller.”

“Like I said before, Mina—anytime. I mean that.”

I gave one more squeeze and pulled back, my head still too busy spinning with her words to speak.

“I'll see you in two weeks, Mina. Be safe, and keep on doing what you're doing.” She smiled and reached out for the handle on the door. “You're getting so close to the end now.”

• • •

“I have to say, Jesse, when you first suggested a trip to Long Beach Island, I thought you were crazy,” Hannah said, stomping through the hard, wet sand in her furry black winter boots. “But now that we're here? It feels perfect. Insanely perfect.”

“Good to hear, Hannah. So glad you approve.” Jesse grinned at her, kicking a soft spray of sand in her direction. She shrieked and kicked back, running to the water's edge as he chased after her.

I smiled, pulling my hood tighter around my face. I'd thought the idea was crazy, too. A deserted vacation town at the end of December, temperatures hovering in the low twenties. Jesse and I had discovered on one of our morning car rides that we had both spent our childhood summer vacations along the sacred beaches of LBI, a skinny stretch of island off the New Jersey coast. It was always bursting with people during the summer, mostly families with lots of sticky, screaming kids in tow, but it was a ghost town in the winter. Restaurants and stores boarded up until Memorial Day weekend, houses dark and stripped of the usual kitschy island decor, driveways emptied of boats and cars. I would have expected to be depressed to see my golden summer world so gray and desolate, but now that we were there, I loved it, loved the peace and solitude. I could breathe here in the winter—I could let my hair blow in the cold, salty wind, stare out over the water, and scream at the top of my lungs if I wanted to. No unsupervised kids ramming against me with their boogie boards or sobbing about the fierce green bottle flies.

This was the island at its most pure and most raw, and the effect was amazingly cleansing. Revitalizing. I felt more spiritual standing by the brutal, beautiful force of the ocean than I had at church on Christmas Eve. Maybe this was how I would worship from now on. Not in a pew, contained by walls and a roof, but out in nature instead, surrounded by water and trees and birds, all reminders of just how many pieces came together to make up our world. All the little miracles that came together
just so
, by chance or by will, at random, or according to plan—I wasn't sure that it mattered. Whichever way, the world's creation was nothing short of miraculous.

I spread our old red-and-white-checkered blanket along a patch of dry sand and plunked down on it, stretching out as I lay on my back and knotted my hands on top of my belly. The sky was bright blue and cloudless, a perfect beach day even if the winter sun couldn't warm my upturned face. Hannah and Jesse gradually made their way over, settling down next to me. Not the tree house but the beach, and a new threesome of friends, but it was the same ratty, well-loved blanket that had seen us through so many adventures. Jesse, it seemed, had effortlessly filled in that third spot of the trio. But no matter how much I appreciated him, he could never be Izzy. No one would ever be Izzy.

We lay there in silence for a while, all of us lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the ocean. The sound of the waves crashing felt more important than any words I could think of to say over them.