My Forever (6 page)

“Great.” Her smile is genuine.

There’s some relief with that. It’s not that we’re
not
friends; it’s just the fact that she looks so pleased at my decision. I suddenly wonder if Michael said anything to her.
The thought of more people knowing terrifies me.

~
~
~

I find Michael easily once the students are gone. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a notebook in his lap. He looks like he’s studying
,
and I surprise him when I sit down facing him, crossing my legs. Actually, my actions probably surprise me more than him. When did I get so brave? Our knees are almost touching.

“How are things?”
h
e asks. I’m reminded again of how much I like his voice. It’s deep and warm. The whole feeling around him is easy and friendly
,
and he closes the notebook in front of him.
For me.

I can hear the student government kids in the room next to us
,
but we’re not close enough to make out the words.

“I still don’t know.” I try to be honest. I have almost no one to talk to at this point, so the ones that I can talk to, I should probably be honest with.

“Do your parents know?”
h
e asks.

I shake my head and then shudder. At some point it’s all going to come out
,
and I dread seeing the shock and disappointment that’s sure to be on their faces. I wonder how angry my dad will be.

“I don’t envy you there. There’s not a good way to bring that up.” He looks sympathetic but not condescending. It’s nice.

“No,
” I agree.

“How about you? What are you going to do?”

“Well, abortion is out for me, I just couldn’t do it. I’m obviously not in a position to take care of a baby. My guess right now is that my mom would want to keep it and raise it as hers
,
but I don’t think I want that either.”

“Which leaves putting the baby up for adoption.”

I nod once.

“Which probably is what brought you to me.”

“I don’t know.” That is it
,
but there’s something more. Might be just that I find him cute but even as I have the thought, I know it’s not the reason either.

Okay.
Maybe a small part of the reason.

“Is there someone in your church or something?”
h
e asks.

Oh no. Dread seeps
through me. There is one couple.
I’d forgotten about them. They’re an odd pair
.
and I realize that for my dad, it’s probably going to be his favorite option. As much as he pushed for a large family, I think he’s done.

He’d be able to give a great sermon on how the Lord works in mysterious ways and how a terrible sin of one person can occasionally bring joy to another. I can see his face now, all wrapped up in wonder and excitement. Enough to keep the crowd entertained without turning into one of those
‘
crazy Pentecostal groups
.’
How am I going to get out of this? I take a deep breath and try to swallow.

“Dani?” Michael looks at me expectantly.

“Sorry.
I get sidetracked a lot.” I feel bad. My mom is always telling me that people will feel like I’m not listening and don’t care if I’m lost in my own head. I don’t want Michael to think that.

“You must have a good imagination.” He leans just slightly closer.

I smile. I’ve always
been accused of being spacey—
good imagination seems a lot better. It makes me feel warm and comfortable in a way that I haven’t for a long time.

“Thought of someone?”

“The options all seem horrible. How did your parents end up with you?” I ask.

“Through the Mormon church.”

I stop.
Like a rock to my chest or something.
It feels crazy. “You’re
Mormon
?”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“I didn’t.” I’ve always been told how weird and crazy the Mormons are, ‘God makers’ they were dubbed by my father.

“So, you know I was adopted, which almost no one knows, and you didn’t know I was Mormon?” He seems amused.

I’m glad I didn’t offend him with my reaction. Or if I did, he’s hiding it well.

“Maybe I blocked it out,” I answer honestly.

“That would make sense. I don’t think most of the people you go to church with have the proper understanding of what we believe.” He seems a little more guarded than before
,
and I’m sad.  His legs come up between
us and his easy,
relaxed face disappears.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” I feel often that my dad has things a bit backward. I stare at my feet, a little unsure of how to continue or if he’ll even want to.

His eyebr
ows pull together just slightly. H
e’s thinking. “Your dad is the pastor there, right?”

I nod.

“I expected you’d be…”

“Better?” I laugh.

“No,
no. You have a different feeling
about you than what I’d expect. It’s nice.” He’s more relaxed again
,
and I realize how tense his reaction made me as my shoulders start to slump back down.

My heart swells at the simple compliment. It’s the best one I’ve
gotten in…
a while. “Thank you.” I feel happy, inside, in a way that I haven’t in a long time. We’re quiet for a moment, smiling at each other. I look down at my lap. Are we having a little moment here? Then I laugh internally. Right. Michael and the stupid girl who got herself knocked up.

“
God works in mysterious ways…” H
e opens his eyes wide and tries to joke a little to dispel the tension. It’s not bad tension, just intense.

“Let’s hope so because right now? I don’t see a good way out of this.” Even if there is one, I have less than nine months to figure it out.

“Hey
,
Dani?” He waits until I look at him. “I was adopted. It’s a good thing, okay? I know I’m with the parents I was supposed to have. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” I think I feel
something like relief—
it just takes me a moment to recognize it because it’s completely unexpected. Relief isn’t supposed to come in any form until this is all over.

“Well, I can tell you what I know about the process of my church.” He looks through his
thick
lashes at me.

“Okay.” It feels good. It feels like I’m moving forward, toward a solution. With my head being full of chaos, it’s what I have to go on. I try not to think about what my dad would say if he knew I
was
sitting with a Mormon boy in the hallway discussing options for my unborn baby. Th
e thought almost makes me laugh.
But not quite
.

“You with me Dani?” Michael asks, noticing my far off expression again.

“Yep.” I’m still smiling.

“Imagination running off with you again?”

“A bit.” I redden. I hate it when that happens.

“Good. I wish I had that.” He watches me for a moment and then continues. “So, if you want to adopt, they have you fill out all of this stuff that you, a possible birth mother, would get to look at. Pictures, family histories, all kinds of stuff.”

I nod.

“I think they help you get set up with health care and all of that.”

“How do they filter out the adoptive families?”

“Well, they need to be recommended by their bishop,” he explains.

“Wait.” I stop him. “What’s a bishop? Like in Catholic church?” The term is only slightly familiar.

He shakes his head. “No. Okay, let’s see… the easy explanation.” He thinks for a moment. “The bishop kind of oversees what happens in our ward.
Our ward is the group of people I meet with on Sunday.
”

“So, like my dad’s the pastor.”

“Kind of, except the bishop
has
lots and lots of helpers. He has two direct helpers or counselors and then we have other organizations that also have leaders…”

“Who
pays
for all those people?” I’m shocked. My dad’s the only one, well except for my brother and sister who are practically at his beck and call. There’s no money to pay anyone other than my dad.

“Nobody in our church gets paid.” He shakes his head.

“
Nobody
?” This is crazy to me. My father has made a living being a pastor my whole life. I can’t imagine him doing all that work for free
, no matter how much help he had
. I think too about the youth leaders who get paid next to nothing but still get paid, how do they get people to do anything?

“Nobody
.
We all work together, most of the time.” He grins. “No one has the job forever. It rotates around.”

“Wow.” The whole idea of it is strange.

“So, the bishop knows the
people in his ward pretty well. H
e’ll do an interview with them before he turns them over to church social services.”

“Organized group, huh?”

“It makes things easier.” He shifts his weight and stretches his legs out in front of him.

“You
two done
out here?” Tracey walks out of the classroom.

“Nope,” Michael says. “We need a few more.”

Her eyes go from him to me and then back to him. She doesn’t seem disappointed or angry, just curious. She turns around and walks back into the room.

“I don’t need to be a member of your church though, right?”
Because that would be the end of this conversation.