November Blues (12 page)

Her mother remained silent, so November finally stated the obvious. “You didn't tell me what would happen if I turned down your offer.”

The lawyer sat down on the edge of the gleaming table, close to November. He dropped the fake smile and the soothing voice. He looked directly at her and said pointedly, “Well, there are all sorts of legal parameters we could use—unfit mother, perhaps—and we'd hate to have to sue for custody, but we would.” He paused. “And we would win.”

He is straight-up serious
, November realized. She twisted around to her mother, who clearly had finally had it. Mrs. Nelson stood up, lifted her chin, and said with a quiet fury, “How dare you speak to my daughter like that? She is no more unfit than you are! Don't you dare threaten her!”

Way to go, Mom! 'Bout time!
November gave her mother a small smile of thanks.
But this slimy dude doesn't seem to be fazed. He's looking at Mom like she was a fingernail clipping.

“I don't threaten, ma'am. I succeed.” The lawyer got up, flicked a speck off his slacks, and went back to his seat.

Mrs. Nelson looked as if she were going to protest more, then she pressed her lips closed. The room was silent
except for the piped-in classical music that November had not noticed before. Everyone's eyes were on her.

November refused to look at any of them. She leaned back in the cushioned chair and placed her hands over her belly. She looked down past her scuffed shoes to the thick, off-white carpet on the floor.

Oh, Lord, what shall I do?
she prayed.
It seems like they're asking me to sell my baby! Can that be right? Maybe the right thing to do is what's best for the child, like Mom says. I didn't really love Josh. I don't really want a baby. I could go away to college after graduation
, she thought wistfully.
Maybe this is my chance to make everything right. The Prescotts sure do need something to make them happy again.
She felt like she was on one of those amusement park rides that turn you upside down and sideways.

November raised her head and looked at the people around that table. The room was ripe with expectation. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. She gulped. “There's no need to drag this out all summer. I've made my decision,” she began. “I have chosen to—” Then she suddenly stopped. She lifted her hands off her lap as if they'd been stung, and looked down at her belly with wonder. “Oh my God! The baby kicked me. That's the first time I felt it move!”

MRS. NELSON RAN TO HER DAUGHTER'S
side, knelt down beside her, and placed her hand on November's tummy. “I think I feel it too!” she said hesitantly, her voice full of joy. November smiled, relief spreading through her. Her mom had been trying so hard to stay neutral in this mess and pretend that she didn't care what November decided. But it sure felt good to see her acting all stupid and excited, and in November's corner again.

The lawyer seemed uneasy with the unexpected commotion. He removed his sweater and paced the length of the room.

Josh's parents also got out of their seats but seemed hesitant to come any closer to November.

“I've felt little twinges before, but I wasn't sure what they were,” November murmured to her mother. “But nothing like this. It feels like a whole football team is in there!”

“Would you like a glass of juice?” the lawyer finally said, trying to reestablish control of the situation.

“No, thank you, I'm fine,” November answered.

“Well, let's get back to business then,” Mr. Grant said, looking a little more self-assured. “You were about to tell us your decision about our proposal.”

The Prescotts sat back down and looked hopeful and expectant. “Please, November,” Josh's mother whispered from across the table.
She looks just like Josh did when he was trying to get me to skip school to go take that ballroom dancing class
, November thought with a pang.

She stood up. “Give me all the paperwork,” she said decisively. “And your stupid DNA test as well,” she added. “I'm not going to sign anything today, or tomorrow, either, for that matter. I intend to take all of it home and read every single line. Then my mom and I will get a lawyer to read it all again.”

Mr. Grant handed her a folder thick with papers and said (trying to sound officious, November thought), “I'll need these back within thirty days.”

“You'll get them back when I'm finished with them,” November said firmly. She felt like she was back in control again, and it felt good.

“And then you'll sign?” asked Mrs. Prescott hopefully.

“No, then I'll go get ice cream!” November said with a smile. “I can't make a decision like this in a minute, or an hour, or a day. I need time to think, to pray, and to know what I should do. The baby isn't due until the first week of November. We have plenty of time.”

“But if you just—,” the lawyer began.

November pulled the papers out of the folder. “Give me some space, mister, or I'll rip these papers into shreds and never come back.” Mr. Grant backed off, hands in front of him to show he had given in.

“If there's anything we can do for you while you're thinking about all this,” Mr. Prescott said to November, “please don't hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks,” said November, “but I think me and my mom got it covered right now. You ready to go, Mom?”

“Yes, let's go, baby girl,” Mrs. Nelson said triumphantly. “I knew I could trust you to know what to do,” she told November as they left the lawyer's offices.

“But I didn't, Mom. I still don't,” November protested.

“You did exactly what you should have. Let's go home.”

As the two of them walked out, November asked hesitantly, “You want to get lunch?” It felt good to have her mother on her side once more.

“Sure, why not?”

Feeling as if a weight had been lifted, November wanted to jump off the stone steps like she had when she was four or five. Remembering her condition, however, she walked down the steps carefully and followed her mother into the diner across the street. They found a seat by the window, where all those people with “lives of desperation” hurried past them, awash in their own problems.

“I'm starving!” November said as she scanned the menu.

“Me too. I think I'll even let myself have dessert today.”

“Are we celebrating, Mom? And if so, what?”

“I think we won a moral victory today,” Mrs. Nelson
answered as she ordered vegetable soup and a Caesar salad from the waitress. “I didn't like that lawyer very much.”

November ordered a pasta casserole and a glass of orange juice. “I still haven't made a decision about what they offered,” she said, crunching a package of saltines in her hands.

“I know. But they were pressuring you to sign right away. You need time. I feel like we can breathe a little.”

“Yeah, at least for a little while. It really is amazing what they're willing to do, Mom, but somehow it makes me feel dirty inside—like I'm washing my hands in muddy water.”

“I understand completely. How could an office that looked so clean make you feel so unclean?”

“Too much beige,” November said with a grin. “Covered up the dirt under his rug.”

The food arrived quickly and they ate in silence, November brooding and her mother nervously sipping two servings of Diet Coke.

Finally Mrs. Nelson suggested, “Let's see what's in the folder.”

November pulled out the first sheet of paper and read it, then handed it to her mother. She felt suddenly cold. “They make it seem so simple,” she said, as she burped from the heavy, garlic-seasoned casserole. “It's just a few lines. But they can change the world of everyone involved.”

“ARE YOU SURE YOU'LL BE OKAY GOING TO
the doctor by yourself?” Mrs. Nelson asked November for what seemed to be the millionth time. “I really can't change this meeting I have at the YWCA.”

“I'll be fine, Mom,” November called from the kitchen. “And I won't be alone. I talked to Dana yesterday and she said she'd go with me. Jericho might show up as well.”

“Jericho?”

“Yeah. He's been acting all fatherly and stuff. Like he's responsible somehow.”

“Does it bother you that he's so interested in the baby?”

“No, actually, it's kinda refreshing. Boys are usually so clueless!”

“You kids be careful, you hear? I'll be back late this afternoon. And you let me know everything that Dr. Holland tells you, okay?”

“I will, Mom. Now get out of here. You're gonna be late.”

November was relieved to hear the door shut and her mother's car start up in the driveway. She fixed herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then sat down on the softest chair in the living room because her back, once again, was aching. She looked down at her feet, which were swollen, and her belly, which no longer seemed to belong to her.
And it's just July
, she moaned to herself.

The phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, saw it was Dana, and said casually, “What's up, girl?”

“Nothin'. Just chillin'. Or tryin' to in all this heat. Getting ready for my date tonight with Kofi. How are you dealin' with it, little mama?”

“I'm sitting here looking at my feet and they look like two tree trunks. I don't think I'll ever be normal again,” November complained.

“I'll be by there in a few minutes. Anything you want me to bring you?”

“Yeah, my life back.”

“Okay, one normal life on a platter—coming right up!” Dana laughed and hung up.

Before she could put the phone down, it rang again. This time the digital screen listed Jericho's number.

“Hey, November. How's it goin'?” he asked.

“You don't want to know.”

“You're probably right. I just wanted to know if you're still speaking to me.”

“Why shouldn't I?”

“Because of what my aunt and uncle are trying to do to you—you know, about adopting the baby.”

“You're not responsible for what they're doing, Jericho.”

“Yeah, in a sense, I think I am.”

“How you figure?”

“If Josh hadn't died, none of this would be happening. It's my fault he's dead.”

“Jericho, you have to quit talking like that! What happened to Josh was an accident. Loosen up, man.” Deliberately changing the subject, she asked, “Hey, how's football?”

“Maybe because I'm so big, or maybe it's all comin' back like Coach said it would, but it's easy for me—and fun. I'm pretty good at it. Coach has me playing both offensive and defensive tackle.”

“Whatever that means. I tell you what. I'll spare you the details of childbirth, and you don't try to teach me the rules of football—bet?”

“Bet.” He laughed, then his voice turned serious. “So did you decide what to do about Brock and Marlene?”

November could see Dana's car pulling into the driveway. “I decided not to make a decision yet. I know it's stalling, but I have to be sure.”

“Is it still okay if I drop by the doctor's office with you and Dana? You sure I won't be in the way?”

“As tiny as you are—who's gonna notice?” November replied. “Hey, Dana is here. She's driving me there. I gotta go. See you there, maybe.”

“Let me know if you need anything, November.”

“You willing to babysit for the next fifteen years or so?”

“I don't know about all that! Talk to you later.”

“Peace out.”

“CAN MY FRIENDS COME WITH ME INTO
the examining room?” November asked the nurse. Jericho had shown up, freshly showered and nervous, just before November's name was called.

“They can come in after the doctor has finished her initial examination. You're scheduled for an ultrasound today, right?” the nurse said with a bright smile.

“That's what Dr. Holland told me last time,” said November.

“Good. Your friends can be with you for that. You might even get to see the sex of the baby today. Won't that be fun?”

Part of the woman's job description must be to be cheerful all the time
, November thought as she made a face behind the nurse's back. She let the woman lead her back to the same overly chilly room with the ducks. She undressed, put on the paper gown, and
climbed up on the paper-covered table.

I wonder how many women have sat on this table in this cold room. I guess the ones with husbands out in the waiting room are happy and excited, 'cause that's the way stuff is supposed to happen. What about girls like me?
Her thoughts were interrupted by Dr. Holland, who greeted her warmly, snapped on a pair of latex gloves, and began the probing and palpating that November hated.

“Are you having any problems?” the doctor asked after her examination.

“I feel swollen. My back hurts. I'm constipated. I burp all the time. I'm always sleepy. Other than that, I'm just peachy!” November replied sarcastically. “How am I going to make it until fall? Last week I had some garlic pasta and I think I burped and farted that stuff for three days!”

The doctor laughed. “You'll survive. Somehow we all manage to make it through this ordeal. I'm a little concerned about the swelling, however, and your blood pressure is still a little high. Did you lay off french fries like I told you?”

“For real, I did,” November told her. “I've had no salt at all since I was here last. My mom even checked the salt content on the toothpaste!”

The doctor frowned slightly. “Good. But I want you to drink even more fluids, increase your intake of fresh fruit and fish, and take a walk once a day. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, ma'am. I have nothing else to do all summer. I withdrew from the summer college program I had planned to attend, and I decided…I decided not to work or volunteer. So I'm just home feeling sorry for myself and watching myself swell up into a balloon.”

“Well, there's a reason for that,” the doctor explained. “Your baby weighs about a pound, and he's more than a foot long.”

“Footlong. That's funny,” November mumbled, almost to herself. Then she looked up at Dr. Holland. “You said he? Are you sure it's a boy?”

“I certainly can't tell by examining your belly. I'm good, but I don't have X-ray vision,” she replied with a laugh. “We'll find out the sex of the baby in a few minutes when we do the ultrasound. Have you felt movement yet?”

“Yeah, I did—just last week,” November reported, her voice full of amazement. “Now almost every day I get a little kick or wiggle.” Unconsciously she rubbed her belly.

“You'll feel that all the time now. You'll find the baby has a rhythm—it will have active periods and rest periods—just like it will after it is born.”

“Really?”

“Yep. It can even get the hiccups.”

“That's funny.”

“How's your mom adjusting?” the doctor asked as she made notes on the chart.

“She goes back and forth between being excited and supportive, to trying to use that tough-love stuff and make me realize how hard this is going to be. She's got more mood swings than I do!”

“So you'll be keeping the baby?”

November looked up in surprise. “How did you find out about the Prescotts?”

Dr. Holland looked confused. “I don't know what you're
talking about. I'm not trying to pry—I just need the information for our records.”

“So you didn't get a call from a slimy lawyer guy named Grant who wanted information about my baby?”

“If I did get such a call, he would get absolutely no information from me or anyone on my staff. That is privileged and, trust me, very safe.” Dr. Holland put a hand on November's shoulder. “What's going on?”

November relaxed a bit as she tried to explain. “The parents of my baby's father want to adopt the child when it's born. They've got a lawyer, and they're not playing.”

“Why would they want your baby?”

“I guess the baby would replace their son.” November shrugged.

“And you're considering this?”

“I guess.” November looked down at the floor and wished the doctor would leave the room so she could get dressed.

“Let me offer you some advice. Don't sign anything until you're sure. It's your baby and no judge will take that child from you unless you spend every weekend doing the hoochie-coochie dance down on Vine Street!”

“Not likely,” November replied with a small smile.

The doctor chuckled. “I've seen cases worse than that where the judge decided in the mother's favor. So relax.”

“But what if the baby really would be better off with Josh's parents?” November continued.

Dr. Holland seemed to be uncomfortable with the direction the discussion was taking. “Can't help you there, my dear. I'm the doctor, not your moral counselor. You have a
lot to consider. But, for the moment, there's something else to think about. Are you ready for this ultrasound? Get dressed and meet me in the room next door.”

“Is it okay for a boy to be in the room?” November asked.

“Sure. If he can handle it, I have no problem with him being there with you. You need all the friends and support you can gather. And this part is fun!” Dr. Holland breezed out of the room.

Dana and Jericho were called in to the ultrasound room. Jericho seemed to fill the room, and his pine-scented aftershave made November feel slightly ill. But she said nothing.

He looked excited, but really out of place. When the doctor lifted November's T-shirt to reveal her tummy, Jericho backed toward the door.

“Get it together, son,” Dr. Holland said, glancing at him. “You've seen more stomach in a Victoria's Secret commercial.”

“Yeah, but not on November,” he said nervously. But he stayed.

The doctor adjusted dials as she slowly slid a monitor back and forth over November's abdomen. The room was silent except for the beeping of the machine and Jericho's anxious breathing. Gradually a vague figure emerged on the screen. November could see an incredibly small shadow of a person. Jericho and Dana leaned in closer to get a better view.

“Oh my God,” November whispered. “It's got a tiny little head, and ears and legs. And are those eyebrows? Wow.”

“She looks like she's sleeping,” said Dana. Both girls
spoke softly, as if anything louder would disturb the child. Jericho's eyes were wide.

“Did you know the baby can recognize your voice, November?” Doctor Holland said.

“For real? I better be careful what I say!”

“He's got a big nose,” Jericho said softly. “At least I think that's what I'm looking at.”

“Yes, that's a nose, and those are arms,” the doctor said, pointing at the monitor.

“Josh had a big nose,” Jericho commented to no one in particular.

November had forgotten all her pains and discomforts. “Can you tell if it's a boy or a girl, Dr. Holland?”

“Let me see,” the doctor replied as she moved the monitoring device, trying to get a clearer picture. “Hmm, I see one leg. Two legs. Aha!”

“What? I can't tell from the picture,” November said, trying to turn her body so she could see the screen better. “Is something wrong?”

“I didn't mean to alarm you. Nothing's wrong. I just got a clear picture. Here—take a look.”

November stared at the grainy image on the screen. “It's a girl, Dana,” she said with wonder. “Look at that—it's a little girl.”

“Josh woulda been freaking out right about now, man,” Jericho said, shaking his head. “He'd be jumpin' around like a little boy, boastin' about what a man he is. Jeez, I wish he could see this.” His voice broke. “November, I gotta go!” November and Dana looked at each other in alarm as Jericho fled the room.