Life Interrupted (6 page)

On Monday afternoon, the whole volleyball team is lunging across the court to pay for sloppy play at the end of practice when the track girls rush into the gym, squealing and shaking rain from their hair while they wring out their tank tops.  Tanks tops. Christ, it’s February in Oregon.  Did they really not assume it would rain?

             
As that thought travels through my brain, I spot Lauren in her tiny green shorts and matching running tank that barely covers her small frame—which means it must be a double XS.  Standing close to her like this, me in my standard practice attire of spandex and a white dry fit with our club logo emblazoned on it, her in her trendy and expensive running outfit, laughing as she shakes (quite perfectly) the water from her hair, I can’t help but make the comparison.

             
She runs cross country and track like the rest of the skinny and less athletically inclined at our school.  She’s petite everywhere. Small hands, small ass, small feet, toothpick legs.  The only thing that is remotely normal is her bust, which she showcases right now in her tank. She’s as fair as she is small, with hair that stops just short of being red, a perfect strawberry blend that gives her pale complexion a rosy glow.

             
I’m as opposite from Lovely Lauren as two people can be.  I’m as brown as she is pale, with dark hair and olive skin.  My legs are long and muscled, my abs harder than most despite the childbearing.  My hips are narrow, my shoulders broad and my boobs never really got out of that one-size-fits-all stage.  They’re the only completely tiny thing about me.

Boobalicious in the corner notices me and gives a fake smile and wave.
I incline my head and continue to lunge, the only acknowledgement I ever give her whether we’re across the room or directly next to each other.

             
Our relationship has never been friendly, a result of the fact that she tried too hard at the beginning and I didn’t try at all.  Then, there was that incident with Tripp that I have a sneaking suspicion she knows about, so now she fake smiles and waves and I return it with blank stares.  Tripp ignores our hostility and when he’s with me we don’t talk about Lauren. Ever. I think it’s safe to assume the same when he’s with Lauren.

             
“God, she’s annoying.”

             
I turn my head and smile at Katie as she sweats next to me.  For all of her craziness outside of volleyball, Katie is Iron Woman on the court.  She never complains, never tires or quits.  It’s possibly the only place in her life that she never alters her image or feels insecure enough to change who she is.  She’s a setter, a damn good one, who works hard every day all day.  Outside of the gym, her life might be a jumble of alter-egos and douchebag boyfriends, but on the court she’s a rock.  I’m as relieved by her statement as I am amused by it since she was ready to take my head off this morning.

“Why did you tell Doug I wasn’t eighteen? He’s livid.”

“Katie, give the guy a fighting chance.  It’s illegal to date you, you’re a minor.”

She growled at me and slammed her locker door shut.  “It’s only illegal if I’m not consenting and I am.”

“Jesus, Katie, don’t you watch the news? Or at least use Google? And please for the love of Jesus tell me you aren’t sleeping together.”

“N
o, and thanks to your big mouth we aren’t even dating.  According to Doug, we’re only friends since it’s too dangerous to be seen with me since I’m not eighteen.”

I was weirdly grateful to Doug at that moment.  “Well, you do have to think of what could happen to him.  You’re not an adult, no matter how much you think you are, and he would be the one in the wrong.  It’s not fair to lie to him, Katie.”

“He probably just doesn’t want me and is using this as an excuse.”

Way to miss the point of the entire conversation.  I took a deep breath and put my arm around her shoulder as we walked to class.  “Or, he thinks too m
uch of you to put you in danger, so he’s being a good guy and waiting until the time’s right.”  I had to choke out the last part because however noble his intentions, I knew it was most likely to save his own ass than out of love for Katie that Doug had put the kibosh on their relationship.

Now, a
s we sweat together through the last few minutes of hell, we survive it by mimicking Lauren and her cross country anorexics—I mean really, you run, what’s the point of the sport?

When Coach ends his torture and brings us in for one last stretch and cheer, I glance over and see Tripp in the corner holding Gracie.  My eyebrows wing up and then I remember: G had an appointment today, I was supposed to grab her before five.  Shit, shit, shit. 

I beeline for them, making note that the girls from the younger team are coming in from their own practice, filing through to the locker room.  Some of them stop and stare at Tripp, their eyes floating to Gracie and I inwardly cringe.  I don’t bring her to school a lot for this reason.  It almost feels like I’m parading her around so everyone can stare at her and I hate it.  It was bad enough being pregnant in high school—I don’t ever want Gracie to be stared at like I was.

“G
was in the parking lot as I was putting my stuff in my truck.  I grabbed her so she could go to her appointment,” Tripp says as I reach them and I nod.

I reach out for Gracie and she opens her arms, babbling her garbled language as she comment
s on everything around.  “Thanks, I forgot.  I bet G was pissed.”

He shakes his head.  “Nah, she saw me so she asked me to bring her to you.  Said to tell you she hasn’t had dinner yet.”

I nod and grab the black backpack from him that has all of her stuff in it.  “Thanks.  How was practice? You guys ready for playoffs?”

He shrugs like he always does, superstitious until the end.  Tripp wears confidence like a second skin, but he’ll never promise a win before the game.  He always gives the same answer, no matter who he’s talking to.  “Only
game day will tell.”

I nod
, secretly pleased that no matter what the papers say about him, there are some things that never change.  “Thanks for getting Gracie.  Do you need a ride?”

He
hesitates and then shakes his head.  “No, Lauren and I haven’t seen a lot of each other lately so she asked if we could grab dinner.  I told her I’d wait here for her.”

I nod, two sharp jerks of my chin and plaster a smile on my face. “Okay, well, thanks
again.  I’ll see you later.”

“Do you want me to hold her while you grab your stuff?” he asks.

“No, thanks, we’re good.  See you,” I say and walk away.  I can feel Gracie waving her arm over my shoulder as she shouts bye-bye over and over.  I laugh as I round the corner into the locker room but it dies away immediately as I come face–to-face with Gabriella Kash.  Marcus’s younger sister stops mid-conversation with another girl from her team when she spots us, her eyes widening only a fraction as she takes in me, then Gracie.

There’s no mistaking the family resemblance
between the two of them, the shape of her face, the blonde ringlets, the porcelain complexion.  I’m almost positive Gracie
is
Gabriella from fourteen years ago and staring at Gabriella’s face, I know she’s thinking the same thing.

Gabriella (never Gabby) is a sophomore. 
The first time I met her was this year.  I wasn’t here last year when she was going through tryouts for the high school team and then again for the club team, and when I met her this year, it was more by way of Katie pointing her out so I knew who to avoid, as Katie also informed me that though Gabriella was a nice, quiet girl (a thought that makes me snort thinking just how
nice
her quiet brother is), she’s heard the rumors and she isn’t convinced I had Marcus’s baby, more just that I had a baby and needed someone to blame. 
Looks like I’ve just convinced her
, I think as she continues to stare at Gracie. 

“Hey, Flow,” the girl next to her says and I shift my eyes. 

“Hey, Liz.  How’s it going?” I ask, but I move my gaze back over to Gabriella who’s still frozen and staring at Gracie.  I know I should find the words to say something, anything, to explain or make this less awkward but I don’t.  Instead, I stare at her as she stares at Gracie, and when her eyes finally meet mine I give a slight incline of my chin.  “Gabriella.” And then I walk to my locker, not taking the time to change from my practice gear or remove my shoes like normal.  There’s a protective streak surging its way through me and though I know it’s stupid, just as the image of Gabriella snatching Gracie from me and running is stupid, I can’t help the desire I feel to run as fast and far as I can so no one ever stares at her again. 

As I slam the door shut and head back out, I
nearly slam into Lovely Lauren and take a moment to wonder if some higher order is messing with me right now.  I’ve never been overly religious or interested in the idea of God, maybe because neither of my parents has ever really talked about faith or a higher power—I mean, my mom’s a biology teacher and my dad believes anything he can read on the side of a cereal box.  When I was little and other people talked about God, I envisioned a sort of puppet master lording over all of us, pulling strings and controlling our lives.  That image flits through my mind right now as I’m practically standing on top of Lauren who’s going out to dinner with the boy I appear incapable of falling out of love with, moments after coming face-to-face with the girl who’s brother knocked me up and then threatened my life, and suddenly I’m wondering how the eff I can get to this puppeteer and take his job—or just cut his damn strings.

“You must be happy.”

The candy coated sweetness of Lauren’s statement cuts through my thoughts and I raise my brow as I hitch Gracie higher on my hip, smug when she hides her face in my shoulder rather than meet Lauren’s ridiculous grin.  When this is the only reaction I give her, she flicks her hair over her shoulder (hair that is now perfect and straight after being soaked only twenty minutes ago, which makes me want to both throw up and ask her how she did it) and smiles.

“It must be good news, knowing that when your daughter grows up she’s going to be gorgeous.”  When I
remain silent again, I see her eyes narrow before she comes in for the kill.  “She looks exactly like Gabriella Kash.  Strong genes in that family, but you already know that.”

So, here’s when I know having a baby changes you.  Two years ago, a comment designed to make me irate would have succeeded.  Lauren would be on the ground and I’d feel a lot better right now because however tacky girl fighting is,
one girl decking another girl for being an asshole is the same as a guy decking another guy in my opinion; it’s just necessary sometimes.  Yet, even as much as I want to punch her, as much as I can feel every fiber inside of me begging to release and light this girl up, I don’t, because Gracie’s with me and I have the ability to remember that things I do can hurt her. 

Gold star for my chart, Flynny, I’m learning
.

I settle instead for taking a step closer and peering down at her,
stretching to my full height.  I’m pleased when I see her smile dim a little and her eyes widen as she tilts her head to look up at me.

“Lauren?
” She swallows almost audibly and I wish I could record the sweet sound of it.  “Fuck off.”  It’s the first real sentence I’ve said to her in almost four years and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.  Maybe there’s something to be said for expressing your feelings after all.

~

My mom’s setting the table when Gracie and I get home.  As has become our routine in the past year, I set Gracie in her high chair and get her dinner ready while my mom finishes our dinner and we share about our day.  When dinner is over, she goes to give Gracie a bath and I clean the kitchen. 

When it comes to breaking pregnancy news at sixteen, I was pretty lucky to have my moth
er.  Most girls would think having a mom in her sixties when you’re in high school is difficult, that the age divide is too great for her to understand what you’re really going through. That’s not the case when Dr. Leigh Conti-Reynolds is your mother.  Maybe it’s because she teaches college kids, or because she embraces sexuality and its expression as a part of life (something I try not to dwell on as it puts a nasty image in my head), but my mom has always related to me.  I don’t remember my dad ever being an important part of my life.  I never felt neglected by him, more just immune.  His decisions didn’t impact what I did, therefore, I didn’t really think overmuch about them.  He was in and out, the guy who gave me the fun day at the zoo or a pretty purse for my birthday which eventually just turned into the occasional check each year to cover previous and upcoming events.  And it never bothered me. 

Katie and I are both victims of what some would call a broken family, except, where Katie’s family is well and truly shattered with a mom who runs off monthly with new boyfriends on trips, extended vacations, etc. and a father w
ho’s been in jail since she can remember, Katie has lived a long time on her own.  I haven’t.  I’ve always had my mother, and even Stacy, though sometimes I thought of how lucky Katie was to just have a crazy mom and an absent dad when I was dealing with Stacy and one of her overly analytical and emotional moments. 
Seriously, it’s a B+ on a test in grad school, get over yourself.