Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Crank - 01 (22 page)
y—I mean … is she?
“Six weeks. She’s too scared
to tell her parents….”
No doubt. What about the father?
Does he know?
“No. And she’s not going to
tell him. He’s a real a-hole.”
No help from the father, no help
from her parents? Only one answer.
“You mean abortion. What
about adoption?”
Let me tell you a little story about
what happened to a friend of mine….
Seems Robyn’s friend chose adoption,
then saw her baby and changed her mind.
“I don’t see what’s so
awful about that!”
Ask the adoptive parents. I’d tell you
to ask the baby, but you can’t.
Seems Robyn’s friend wasn’t really
ready to be a mommy.
“So … what? She gave the baby
up for adoption, after all?”
She went on a three-day bender. The
baby’s crying drove her nut buckets.
Seems, arm in arm with the monster,
Mommy shut the baby up.
For good.
Snow Began to
Snow Day
No plows, no buses,
no school, nothing to do but fret.
I picked up the newspaper.
There, headlining Local News:
MAJOR DRUG BUST
with a picture of Roberto
in a sporty pair of cuffs,
followed by a daunting exposé—
La Eme and the crank epidemic.
Plus, in
Sierra Living
a complementary piece
outlining the horrors of meth:
How it eats big holes in the brain, destroys
the pleasure center. How it shows up
in X rays as big black dead spots spoiling gray matter.
How quitting is next to impossible
and even those users who suffer
through often never recover completely.
Footnote:
Possible
pregnancy
complications
crank
baby
birth
defects
health
and behavior
abnormalities.
Too Much
to think about. | |
Too much to bear. | |
And time was running short. | |
I knew | I couldn’t marry Chase. |
I knew he would stand by me. | |
But he deserved his dreams. | |
I feared | closing that door. |
I feared the uncertainty | |
of choosing parenthood. | |
I doubted | I could give my baby away. |
I doubted more I could raise it | |
on my own—with or without defect. | |
I needed | a solid dose of courage. |
I needed the strength only | |
the monster could give me. | |
I regretted | my weakness as I inhaled. |
I regretted making the decision | |
to snuff out my baby’s life. |
I Needed Two Things
The ride home was easy.
Robyn offered to drive,
as long as it didn’t interfere
with her cheerleading.
The $500, however, presented a challenge.
My bank account was low desert dry.
The Visa was maxed high.
Chase refused to help.
He was “floored” by my decision.
Another option came to mind, one
that owed me a lot more than money.
First Brendan denied paternity.
I reminded him about DNA.
Next he claimed poverty.
I threatened full disclosure.
To his hoity parents. To his toity girlfriend.
To his probation officer.
(A DUI, post—Air Races.)
Okay, he’d cough up the money.
Distasteful as it was to see
him again, it provided
a matchless opportunity.
You sure you’re pregnant?
You sure it’s mine?
You’re not b-s-ing me?
“I’m sure. It’s yours. No bull.
Hard to believe your balls were big
enough to accomplish it, huh?”
How Big
were
my
balls?
Big
enough
to
follow
through?
I
Didn’t Sleep
the night before,
just sat at the window staring at starlight,
gentle glitters upon a crust
of new snow,
wishing I could wish upon
a star and make it all just an evil dream,
one I could wake from,
but no such
luck.
Mesmerized
More Choices
| I told you once before | |
| that life is full of | choices |
| Sometimes, good or bad, | |
| hard or easy, we make | the right choices. |
| | |
| When I told my mom, | |
| she cried and cursed | my choices. |
| Then she softened and | |
| thanked me for honoring | my child. |
| | |
| She and Scott argued, | |
| talked and finally agreed | to offer haven |
| as long as I finished school. | |
| Chase likewise promised | to care for |
| | |
| us, work two jobs if need | |
| be. It gave me even more | to love |
| him for, but I sent him off | |
| to USC. As my baby grew, | mother love |
| replaced romantic love, | |
| almost diminished | love |
| for the monster. I tried | |
| to quit, but my need was | so deep |
| | |
| I did slip once or twice. | |
| One tiny snort was all | it took |
| to satisfy desire so | |
| deep it snatched | my breath away. |
| | |
| But don’t worry. | |
| I swear it was only | a time or two. |
| You won’t tell, | |
| will you? | |
I Won’t Bore You
Highs
10) Feeling my baby move
at 16 weeks exactly,
knowing it
wasn’t
gas,
but something—someone—
incredibly, remarkably, alive.
9) Calling Dad and getting
Linda Sue. Asking her
to define “hummer” before
imparting the fabulous news
that her boyfriend was
to become a grandpa.
8) My ultrasound—seeing a heart,
beating strong inside me.
Having my doctor
inform me that my baby
was all in one piece, then
suggest I shop “blue.”
7) My school counselor,
Mrs. Green, arranging
a home-study program
to let me graduate
right on schedule.
(Six days before I gave birth!)
6) Calling Grandma, expecting
a lecture and getting one—
about how every baby,
regardless of circumstances,
is an angel on a special mission.
5) Scott’s losing his anger
long enough to teach
me to drive. Getting
my driver’s license when
Grandma left me her
obnoxious (but mint) ’75 LTD.
4) Jake, sharing his Internet
research on fetal
development. Did you
know that a fertilized
egg, 36 hours old, is
the size of a pinhead?
3) Sorting through 35,000 names
in the
Dummy’s Guide to
Naming Your Baby,
opting for the strong,
masculine moniker
Hunter Seth.
2) Epidurals. I meant to do
Lamaze, really I did,
but I managed to miss
most of the classes.
Here’s to labor, without
unimaginable pain!
And …
The #1 Best Thing
about those seven months:
Holding
my baby for the first time,
knowing just how to do it.
Thinking
his red, scrunched-up face
was really quite handsome.
Unwrapping
the blanket to count fingers,
eyes, ears, and toes,
Finding
all twenty-four, precisely
where they ought to be.
Crying
because suddenly,
for the first time
in a very long time,
everything felt right.
Lows
10) Morning sickness. Puking
my guts out as soon
as I lifted my head
from the pillow, each
and every day
for weeks and weeks.
9) Listening to Mom and Scott
argue. About me.
About the baby.
About the odds
of it being some
sort of freak.
8) Trying to quit tobacco
after learning how
every puff made
my baby’s heart
stop beating. How
could I be so hooked?
7) Going to school (before
my “condition” became
obvious) an outsider.
Knowing my old
friends and I had lost
all common ground.
6) Boredom. The succession
of little-to-do
days, stretching
longer and longer
toward the longest
day of the year.
5) Long letters from Chase.
USC was great.
The football team
was great. Los
Angeles was great.
Great enough
to call it home.
4) My dad’s silence. He did call
once, to confirm Linda
Sue’s tale. Then not
a word, as if not talking
about it could make
the “problem” disappear.
3) Losing Grandma, just when
I’d found her again.
A waterfall of flowers
brightened her funeral,
but they couldn’t disguise
the stench of death.
2) My water breaking, mid-Walmart…
Contractions,
uterine lightning
bolts, striking
immediately
and not letting
up for 18 hours.
And …
The #1 Worst Thing
about those seven months:
My steady, needful, forever
relationship with the monster.
Learning