My Forever

8

My Forever

Jolene B Perry

DEDICATION

To my husband, Michael, for inspiring the Michael in this book.

And for little Eliza Claire, who
se arrival on this earth came at a perfect time to be included
in
Dani’s
story
.

1

             
Peeing on a stick is definitely not on
a
list of things I want to do.
When I finish I try to put the cap on, just like the instructions say
,
only I almost drop it like three times in the process. My fingers aren’t working right. A hammering heart should not be affecting how well my fingers work.

Now I’m supposed to wait.

And wait.

I stand and pace two steps back and forth with the dumb thing in my hand. My eyes go from the test, to my watch
,
and back to the test. I feel detached. It seems like the kind of moment you should be in the middle of, not detac
hed from. This sucks. One line.
I don’t breathe while I check the instructions. This is okay. This line is okay. My heart’s beating hard. I’m just hoping that…

Oh crap.
That
line isn’t okay. A wave of something that’s a combination of terror and dread passes through me.

My legs give out. I sit on top of the toilet seat, and put my head in my hands. I feel like I should throw up or pass out or that my body should react with the same force as my emotions, but instead I go numb. What a letdown.

Someone bangs on the hollow door with the side of their fist. When I jump, I nearly fall off the toilet.

“Dani! It’s
my
turn! I have rehearsal tonight.
I’ve been helping mom with the twins
all
day
,
and
I
helped with dinner! I need a shower!” It’s my older sister, Gloria. I wish she acted as perfect at home as she does at church.

“
All
day?” We both know the twins are in kindergarten.

“Dani.” She’s laying on the annoyance thick now.

I let out a big sigh in the hopes she hears me. “Just a minute.”
My voice sounds good, b
ut
inside,
I’m shaking.

She bangs again. “That’s what you said ten minutes ago!”

“And it’s still true!” I finally find a volume equal to Gloria. I grab the pee stick, the box and the directions and stuff them into the front pouch of my hoodie. I wonder how long I’ll have before my belly starts sticking out
,
and I have to tell my parents. The thought makes me nauseous.
I step out of the bathroom—
my
head feel
s loud and heavy. I purposefully don’t look at Gloria. She has a really good pout, and I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of noticing it.

“You could show a little more appreciation for what we’ve been blessed with,” she says.

“Like you do while trying to destroy the bathroom door?” I pass her and walk straight down the hallway to the room I share with my younger sister
,
Hannah. The fake wood paneling in the hallways and the bedrooms is a constant reminder that we don’t live in a real house.

I climb up on my bunk, the only space I have that’s my own, though I suspect Hannah sneaks up here sometimes. Unfortunately, she’s a good sneak
,
and I have yet to catch her. I lie down and stare at the ceiling. The texture forms the same patterns every time I stare up at them. There’s an old man, a duck, and a racecar. I can pick them out every time. The numbness has gone away just enough for me to feel how hard my heart is beating. I concentrate on taking deep breaths. I have to get a grip on myself. My hands clutch the contents of my pocket. So, this is it. This is what’s going on with me now. I’m the pregnant girl. I have no idea what to do with that
,
but the acceptance of it helps me breathe normally again. My real thoughts are getting through the no
ise in my head. I—

“
Dani
?” It’s one of my brothers.
My twin
.

“What do you want Daniel
?
I’m in my room.” I don’t move.

His face appears
in the doorway. I look like M
om
. He looks more like my father—
pale, light brown hair. He inherited none
of our mother’s Mexican skin. Daniel is a whole two minutes younger than me, gets away with practical murder, and never seems to be in trouble. I
seem to be forever in trouble—
usually having something to do with Daniel.

“Can you tell mom that we stayed after school today together to work on math?” he asks.

“What did you do?” I don’t really care. I just want to know why I’m going to be in trouble later.

“Math, after school, with you?
Please
?”

“Fine. Where were we? Library? Hallway?” I
lie back in bed and
wait for a response. “
Daniel
!”

No answer. Well, that seals it for me. I’ll get in trouble for trying to help him cover up
,
and he’ll get away with whatever he’d
actually
been up to this afternoon. It’s better than telling them I spent the afternoon with Zack, again.

Zack is a nice guy, but
maybe
doesn’t
look
like a nice guy. He sits in the back row at my dad’s church and doe
sn’t say much. We’re not dating. W
e’re not anything really, except convenient. We live close. His house is quiet. Mine is not. My dad doesn’t like us hanging out. It’s kind of funny now. Now that I’m pregnant because of the boy my father
does
trust. Pregnant.
My insides swim.
It’s real. I suck in my lower lip as I feel my chin start to tremble.

“Dani.” It’s amazing how Gloria can put so much irritation into one word. She’s fresh out of the shower and stinking up the hallway with her shampoo.

“What?” I try to mimic the annoyance in her voice and fail. Not only am I holding in tears,
but
I just don’t have as much practice.

“You said you’d come to rehearsal tonight
. W
e need someone to play the piano
.
Barbara can’t make it.”

“
Again
?” I
sigh
.
Loudly.
It will either be torture, or a welcome reprieve.

“Don’t be such a spoiled brat
,
Dani. We’re doing the Lord’s work.” I hate how pious she sounds, how pious she
always
sounds
,
and I roll my eyes.

“Don’t think I can’t see that from down here,” she says. She’s guessing
,
and we both know it.

“I’ll be there.” I
check
my
Mickey Mouse
watch. My father had refused cell phones for his kids
—
except for Isaac and Gloria, of course. They’re out of high school and doing the Lord’s work full time now, just like my dad. As far as I’m concerned
,
they’re both adult bums, following Dad around, doing whatever he asks, so they can continue to get free food and rent. And now cell phones. I promise myself right now that when I graduate in the spring, I’ll get out of here. Though, my recent pregnancy test may change some of that
,
but I
will
get myself a phone. I hop down from the top bunk with my added weight, wondering how on earth I’m going to get out of this mess.  

2

I throw the test and box away in the large garbage can of the women’
s bathroom at the church. I’m
lighter.

We live next door
to the church
—
part of a package deal. It’s convenient for Dad, the pastor. I stuff my hands in my now empty hoodie pouch and shuffle to the piano bench where I sit and wait for
the choir. Distraction.
I just need a little distraction. I’ll be happy when they get different music. I feel like I’m always playing the same dumb thing. I kick my feet back and forth underneath my seat.
Gloria’s happily greeting everyone at the door.
How can they not see past her fake façade? It makes me crazy.

I’m the third of eight kids. Well, my twin Daniel and I are the third and fourth. After us, my parents took a seven-year bre
ak before having the final four—
Hannah, who’s ten
, Matthew who’s seven, and the youngest twins who are in kindergarten this year. Our house is always chaotic.

The only reason I know how to play piano is that when I come out here to practice, Dad keeps everyone else away. It’s the only time I’m alone. He wants to make sure that I get the proper amount of time to play gospel music. I play what he wants me to half the time. I also have a bunch of sheet music I took from school, which I fully intend on giving back as soon I remember to make copies. It’s what I play the other half of the time.