Regret Me Not (17 page)

His hand is under my hair, his fingers stroking my head gently. "I'm sorry about her, but you pushed me so far. I knew you'd find out I was with her, and I wanted you to feel something. I wanted you to hurt the way I did."

"Why did you put up with me? I mean in the beginning, when I ran out of your car. Why did you ever give me the time of day after that?"

A smile creeps up from the corners of his mouth. He stands and moves so he can sit on my bed. I turn around in the chair so I could face him. "One day we were on the field practicing and Josh kept looking up at the stands. I was so pissed that his head was on his girlfriend and not on the drills we were running. I got in his face and yelled at him. To make my point, I looked back at Olivia, and there you were, sitting next to her. You looked so beautiful. I'd never seen you at a game or practice before. You were like the school's official anti-football chick."

"I remember that. It was the first time I went. You looked mad. I thought it was because we were there watching."

"I was mad. Mad that I couldn't concentrate. Mad that I couldn't stop looking over at you. I wanted to show off, to show you how good I was, but I couldn't get it together. I was awful, I couldn't throw the ball, or focus. And then I found out I didn't have a shot. You were there for Scott. Josh was going to introduce him to you after practice."

"Kenzie!" Jessica bounds into my room, her gray eyes as wide as saucers. She looks between us. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine," Brayden gets to his feet and gives me a quick kiss. "I better get home and write that essay while my thoughts are fresh and clear."

"Wait, we didn't finish."

He flashes me his warm, flirty smile, "I guess it’s for me to know and Father Mario to find out."

"Brayden," I grab his hand.

"Seriously, I've told you. More than once. You're smart, you'll figure it out. If you need anything call me, otherwise I'll see you later. And get that essay done," he points to my monitor.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt." Jessica cringes as she speaks.

I roll my eyes, "So what was so important?"

"I'm going to take classes at the community college this semester. Providing there's still time to get into any of them."

"That's great. See, Mom and Dad are coming around."

"I know. I also know you must have said something. They wouldn't make this kind of decision on their own."

"Maybe your therapist suggested it?"

She shrugs. "Or maybe you did and for some reason you don't want to admit it? Either way, I don't care. But I was thinking, maybe if I could see your schedule, maybe there's a class we could take together."

I rummage through the top drawer of my desk for my registration form. "Here. I don't know what classes you need, but if any of these fit . . ."

"Need? You mean for my actual degree?"

I nod. "What kind of degree are you going for?"

"I've been doing that online nonsense for a business degree, but that's not what I want to do. Honestly, I haven't got a clue what I want to do anymore. I wanted to teach, but those jobs aren't so easy to get anymore. Now, I just want to take real classes with actual people."

I hug my sister. And in a somewhat perverse way, I'm happy we both shot our lives to shit. It's helped me get to really know Jessica, and appreciate her. I never felt closer to her.

"Check out the Intro to Acting class. It's an elective, but it sounds easy and fun. Then again, just because of that it might be packed."

As she's leaving my room, Jessica turns around at the door, looks back at me, and shakes her head. "I still can't believe you told a priest you think God is an alien."

"Get out!" I shout, crumple up a handout I'd gotten in last semesters psychology class, and throw it at her.

Chapter 18

Meet the Parents

Although I've met Brayden's parents, and had dinner over at his house, I'm nervous. I feel like they're going to take one look at me and decide I'm some sort of floozy that’s not good enough for their son. Unconsciously my hand rests on my belly as I search my closet for something to wear. I'm not showing at all, but my clothes are starting to pull just a bit around my waist. It's nothing anyone looking at me would notice, but I can feel the difference. I look down at my stomach, unable to visualize how big and swollen it will soon look.

I choose a long, black skirt. The band doesn't have much give, but the rest of the material is loose and flowing. I throw a long sleeve red shirt over it. It's not too dressy, not too casual, and since Christmas was yesterday, it's somewhat festive, and to finish off the look I add a black scarf and my favorite black boots with a low heel.

I go downstairs and make an appearance in the kitchen, but no one notices at first.

"Make sure you put the doily on the tray before you put the cookies on it," my mother explains to Jessica. "It's all about the presentation."

"Anything I can do?"

They look up, and I'm stunned at how good my sister looks. I haven't seen her look anything like this in ages. She's wearing jeans and a long black sweater, filling them out more than she has since she came home. No longer looking too skinny for her frame she looks healthy. Not just healthy, but beautiful. She's wearing her brown hair loose instead of in the high ponytail that's become her signature look. It's the first time she's wearing makeup since she came home.

"What?" she asks, her large grey eyes open wide, betraying her insecurity.

I shake my head, "Nothing. You just look beautiful."

She smiles, "Thanks. So do you."

I walk over to her and stroke her hair gently. "Jess, when you find him, your someone special, he's going to be so awed by you. That's how you'll know who he is."

She takes a deep breath in. "Thanks. But meeting someone isn't my top priority. In fact it's not a priority at all. I'm just trying to get through today."

"I know."

She smiles. "Tonight I just don't want to embarrass you."

"You can't."

She narrows her eyes at me. "That's not what you said when you first brought him home."

I smile, "Things were different then. And you did embarrass me in front of Brayden. Often, too." I pause and get serious. "But we're different now. I know you were looking out for me, and I'm so proud of who you've become."

She pulls my head to hers. "Don't be so proud. Every day is a struggle. I just hope to get through it without causing harm to anyone, myself included."

"Isn't it easier though? At least a little bit?"

She sniffles. I don't think it's for effect, I think she's getting choked up. "The second I found out you were pregnant it got easier. I saw how torn you were. I knew I had to step up. I needed to be here for you, just the way I will when the baby is born. You're going to need help, and I want so much to be a part of my niece or nephew's life."

"Of course."

"Don't say that. If I slip . . ."

"You won’t."

"You don't know that, but if I do, don't let me anywhere near your baby. I'd never hurt it on purpose, but . . ."

"Jess, you'll be okay, because you're strong, and I owe you big time. And so does Brayden. We'll help you through. In a strange way, I think he might understand you better than I do, but I'll never turn my back on you."

"You won’t forget me once you takeoff on your honeymoon?"

"Honeymoon? I don't even think dad will let us sleep in the same bed."

"Okay, enough slacking girls," my mother says with the tray of cookies in her hand. "They'll be here any . . ."

The doorbell rings.

"Minute."

I hear my father coming down the steps. "I got it!" he calls out.

I don't know where to put myself. My mother and Jess head to the living room to make sure the trays they put out are set up just right. I follow my father to the door. I'm  nervous. I hope I don't puke on their feet as they walk in.

The door opens. Brayden is standing behind his parents. He looks as nervous as I feel. Our eyes meet. My stomach churns. I turn and run for the bathroom. I make it just in time. I hear voices coming from the front door. At least they're talking. My father is probably apologizing for my rude behavior.

"Kenzie, baby, are you okay?"

I forgot. Brayden hadn't witnessed all the fun I've been having with our little bundle of joy.

I wait until I'm sure I can speak before I answer, "I'm fine."

After rinsing with mouthwash, I finally emerge from the bathroom to find Brayden leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets, waiting for me. I read the concern swimming deep in his eyes. He reaches out and strokes my hair.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

I nod. "Nothing I'm not used to."

He slides his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. I lean into him, and take a deep breath. "Might as well go face the music."

*

"I don't know if living here is the best possible solution." I hear Mr. Turner say.

"We have the room. It's really not an issue. And this way whatever money they have will be spent on school and the baby," mom explains.

"It's not that. It's just, we have concerns," Brayden's mother chimes in.

I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. I know what the problem is. I look up at Brayden. He's looking straight ahead, his mouth open wide in horror. I recognize the look on his face; it's one I know well when I catch of a glimpse of myself running to bathroom. Before we can get in there and say something Jessica speaks up.

"Mr. and Mrs. Turner, I have a feeling the concern you have is me. I'm sure you've heard things about me around town. Unfortunately, I'm sure they're true. But I've changed. I've taken control of my life again, and I've been straight and clean for fifteen months now."

"Mom, Dad," Brayden calls their attention to him. "We discussed this already. The decision has been made. I told you, once we're married, I'm moving in here."

His father shakes his head. "I don't think you've thoroughly explored all your options."

"I don't see how any other option makes sense. I don't have a full time job yet . . ."

"No, son, you don't." His father goes right at him like a battering ram against a castle door. "You can't possibly lead the lifestyle you're accustomed to. You're going to struggle and you can't possibly provide this child with what it deserves."

My heart is in my stomach. I hope I don't throw up again. I can't say anything, this is between Brayden and his father, but I don't like the direction this is going in.

"Dad."

I hear the warning in Brayden's voice and wonder if his father will show him enough respect to back down and have this out with his son in private, or prove to Brayden that he is still in control of his son's life.

"No, Brayden. I think while we're together, we should discuss all of your options."

"I can't believe you." Brayden's voice booms, his eyes narrow at his father. "How can you even suggest it? There's no way we're getting rid of it. That's off the table."

"Sweetheart, hear him out. Your father isn't suggesting an abortion."

Brayden looks confused. I hear him release a long breath. "Then what is he suggesting?"

"Adoption," Mr. Turner answers.

Brayden looks away from his parents and shakes his head. "Look, if you don't want to be part of your grandchild's life, that's fine. You don't have to be. But this is my baby, and I'm not about to give it away for someone else to raise."

"What if it's what's best for the baby? Someone else might be able to provide a better life for the child. You and Mackenzie are very young. There's no need to rush into . . ."

"I'm not rushing. This is what I want," his lips are thin and tight.

I look at my parents, both sitting with somber looks on their faces. Neither of them jumps in to support us, and I'm wondering if they feel the same way.

Brayden is breathing hard, anger burns in his eyes. I reach for his hand, but he won’t let me take it. I don't know if they're getting to him or getting through to him.

"Son, if you love her, if you love this child, you'd listen. I mean don't you want the best for both of them?"

"You know I do."

"Then trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

He nods, "You do. That's what hurts." He holds his head between his hands. "You regret everything. You regret me."

I can't guess what's running through Brayden's head, but I can feel the anger and tension between him and his father. I cross my arms over my stomach, as if that will somehow shield the baby from all the negative energy swirling around the room.

"No, Brayden. I don't want
you
to regret giving up your freedom on a romantic notion. I don't want
you
to end up in a position to resent this child because you think it'll be fun to play house for a while."

"I'll never resent it."

"Brayden, you don't know how you'll feel in a year from now when all your friends are home from school hanging out and you and Kenzie are stuck here taking care of a baby."

I want to hold Brayden and shield him from the power of his father's words. I can see the hurt in his eyes. At one time I would have thought them nothing more than a warning. I now know they are like a bludgeoning stick to Brayden's head.

"I'm not
you
. And I'm not being pushed into marrying her. It's my choice. Mine."

"I wasn't pushed into marrying your mother either. And I'd marry her again."

"I see. The part you would do over is me."

"Stop that. You know how much I love you."

He takes a small step back. "I thought I did."

"Brayden." His father's voice is stern. "Listen to me, hear what I'm saying."

"I'm hearing you loud and clear."

"Son, I just don't think you're ready. You never had to work. You never went without things the way you're mother and I did when we grew up."

"Maybe we can start with something everyone is in agreement with." My mother tries to smooth things over, but I'm not sure it's going to work. I keep my eyes glued to Brayden. He's stone like and unmoving. "Are we all in agreement to help support Mackenzie in having the baby?"  

Mr. Turner shakes his head. He directs his next comment at me. "Will
you
at least consider adoption? This is no time to be selfish."

Brayden's body lurches forward, but I grab his arms and hold him tight. His eyes meet mine, and I know he wants to defend me, but I can't allow it. Not against his father. Not like this.

"Excuse me, Bruce," My father's voice fills the room. "Let's not throw around names or make accusations."

"The way I see it, it's the truth."

Again Brayden's body tenses and moves forward. I pull him away, over toward the couch where Jessica is sitting.

"Is that so? Because it was
your
son that came banging on our door demanding that Kenzie keep the baby. It was
your
son that insisted my daughter carry the child to term because he wants it and is willing to raise it with or without her."

The look on Brayden's mother's face softens. Her eyes fill with tears and finally she breaks her silence. "Mackenzie, Brayden, we're here for you. No matter what. And we'll do anything we can to help you. You're father just wants to make sure you understand what you're in for, because it won't be easy."

"I know." He answers.

"Have you even given a moment of thought to what you're going to do, or how you're going to support a child? Your whole life you've wanted to play football, but now you need to get your head out of the clouds."

"Football wasn't my dream, it was yours!" he snaps at his father.

Mr. Turner runs his hands through his hair, turns and takes a few steps away. "Do you hear yourself, Brayden? Do you? She's got you all twisted and bent out of shape."

"No, Dad, she doesn't. You do. Don't blame Mackenzie for your shortcomings. You're the one who doesn't get it."

"Brayden, dear,
have
you given any thought to what you will do?" my mother asks.

He nods. Long term I've been thinking about the police academy."

"And short term?" his father asks.

"Short term, I'll do anything. Construction, plowing, landscaping. Whatever I can get paid for."

"Oh, that's great. What the hell did we work so hard for? For you to just throw your life away at the sight of a pretty girl?"

"Watch it," Brayden warns his father.

"I'm serious, Brayden. You think you're so smart, you don't even have the education behind you to get into the police academy."