The Way Back (3 page)

She'd have to make a decision, but first, she'd have to make it until tomorrow without getting high.

“Thank you, Mr. Horvath.”

“You're welcome. You're doing the right thing, no matter what you decide about the pregnancy. And if you decide to terminate while you're at Meadow Farm, we can make arrangements.”

Colby bristled. She didn't like it when people knew what she was thinking. Gram was always doing that.

“And you can keep the fox. Consider it a talisman.”

“I—” Colby didn't know what to say. And then she did. She reached out a hand, and Mr. Horvath took it, and they shook. “Thank you, Mr. Horvath. I appreciate it.”

extreme barf warning

The next morning, Colby and Gigi got into a huge fight. It started while they were still in bed. Gigi had the top bunk and Colby had the bottom. Colby was just waking up, and there was Gigi's face, upside down, staring at her, her long curls trailing down.

“You have to tell me before you go.”

Colby shook her head. She rolled onto her side and swallowed, already tasting the bile she knew she'd have to deal with soon.

“Tell me!” Gigi jumped down from the bunk and straddled Colby. “Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“Get off me.” Colby gave Gigi a halfhearted shove. “Seriously.”

But Gigi just bounced, squishing Colby's queasy stomach. “Seriously, tell me.”

“Get the hell off of me or I'll projectile-puke right in your face.”

“Fine.” Gigi climbed off. She stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. “Go puke. And then come back and tell me who the hell you had sex with.”

Suddenly, Colby wasn't going to make it to the bathroom. She grabbed the bucket she'd placed beside the bed and barfed.

“Nasty.” Gigi grimaced. But she stood there and watched nonetheless. “Tell me.”

“Screw off, Gigi.”

“Screw
you
, Colby.”

“Well…” Colby fought back a dry heave and smirked. “Someone did.”

“That's it.” Gigi shook her head. “We're done.” She shoved her cell phone in Colby's face. “See this? I'm removing you from my contact list. That's right. I won't have your number. So I won't be calling or texting you while you're off at preggo-teen-mom rehab jail. And when you get back, you can find someone else to mooch off. Get out.”

“Considering that my ride will be here in half an hour, that was the plan.” Colby pulled off her pajamas and traded them for yoga pants and a tank top, barely one step up from pajamas. She fished under the bed for her flip-flops. “Sorry if that messes with your element of drama.”

“I hate you right now.” Gigi sighed. “I hope it's just the pregnant you that I hate. I hope that when you get an abortion, you'll go back to being cool.” And with that, she stalked out of the room, cell phone to her ear. “I'm calling Milo and telling him what a bitch you're being.”

“You do that.” Colby burped, tasting bile again. “Just don't tell him that I'm pregnant.”

Milo.

Gigi's older brother.

Gigi's
gay
older brother.

Gigi's gay older brother who she'd kind of had sex with six weeks ago.

Colby slipped on her flip-flops, and then she was nauseous again. She barfed into the bucket. When she looked up, Gram stood in the doorway, holding a bag of whole almonds.

“Protein. Take a handful before you get out of bed, and it will help with the morning sickness.”

“Thanks, Gram.” Colby took the bag and wedged it into her suitcase. “I'd be happy if it was only morning sickness.” She glanced at Gram and smiled. Gram, who had no clue that this baby was actually related to her. Gram, who was still praying Milo would turn out straight. Gram, who deeply believed that he just needed to find the right girl.

Colby had always wanted to be the right girl for Milo. The one who could make him jump the fence. And even while she knew he'd never be straight, all it took was some Ecstasy and a bottle of wine and she'd managed to convince him to give it a try. Just once.

He'd laughed the whole time, and it wasn't until she turned over and suggested that he imagine she was some hot guy that he finally got off. She thought he'd pulled out.

Guess not.

He'd joked about it after, but even he didn't tell anyone about what they did. As if having sex with her somehow made him less gay. He said she'd been his experiment.

If she didn't get an abortion, she'd have to tell Milo.

Chalk that up as one more reason to get rid of the baby.

A car honked outside. Gram reached for the suitcase, but Colby gently pushed her arthritic hand away. “I've got it. Thanks, Gram.”

“You're doing a good thing. No drugs. Clear mind. You'll be able to think of a plan for how you will take care of your baby.”

In Gram's mind, the baby was already a full-fledged member of the family.

If she only knew how true that actually was.

“It's early, still.” Colby wheeled her suitcase down the hall behind Gram. “I was looking on the Internet, and it says one in five pregnancies end up miscarrying. Don't get too attached, Gram.”

“Your baby will be fine.” Gram opened the door. “I know it in here.” She tapped her heart.

A minivan idled at the curb. Colby squinted. The female driver had dreads and enormous sunglasses. There were three other people in the van, one in the passenger seat and one each in the rows behind.

“I love you, Gram.”

“I love you too.” Gram kissed her. “And that baby.” She gave Colby's stomach a pat and then turned back inside.

No one came to help her with her suitcase, so Colby went ahead and lifted it into the trunk. She came around to the passenger side and knocked on the window. The girl sitting there was fat, with a buzz cut and a lip ring. Heroin was definitely not her drug of choice.

The window opened. “Yeah?”

“Hi. I'm Colby.”

“Yeah?”

“I—uh, I'm going with you guys to—”

“Meadow Farm, yeah.” The girl gestured behind her. “Door's unlocked.”

“I get carsick.”

The girl stared at her. “Got a barf bag?”

“I was hoping I could sit in the front? It's better.”

“I was hoping there wouldn't be any bitches. Guess we're both disappointed, huh?”

At this point, the driver leaned over. “I'm Tori. Hi. You're Colby.”

“I need to sit in the front.”

“Maybe I do too.” The girl stared straight ahead. “Besides, I called shotgun.”

“Colby, this is Jordan. Jordan, Colby.” Tori straightened. Colby glanced at the rear seats. Two women, one sprawled on each row. The one in the very back was hugely pregnant. “How about you ride in the front after the ferry?”

“She's got a stack of magazines to read,” Colby said. “Obviously, she doesn't get carsick.” She glanced at the magazines.
Out, Curve, Gay Life.
Before all of this, Colby would've wondered how a butch dyke could end up pregnant. Not now.

“Actually, I do get carsick.” Jordan smirked. “If I'm in the back.”

“Fine.” Colby flung open the sliding door and glared at the woman who was taking up the whole bench. “Do you mind?”

“I do.” The woman made a big production of pulling her legs up so there was just enough room for Colby and she could still be mostly lying down.

“This should be fun.” Colby pulled out her earphones and plugged them into her phone as Tori steered the van back into the traffic heading west.

“Super fun!” Tori chirped.

Not five minutes later, Colby was about to puke. She leaned forward as far as she could and barfed down the side of Jordan's seat. With the second heave, some got on Jordan's sleeve and spattered the stack of magazines.

“You
bitch
!” Jordan screamed.

“Ugh.” Colby belched. “Going to barf again.”

“Pulling over!” Tori said. “Hold on.”

“You said you had a bag, bitch!” Jordan scrubbed at her sleeve with a napkin. “It's all over me.”

“Told you I'd get sick if I sat back here.” Colby leaned back. She pulled a wet wipe from her bag and wiped her face with it. She took a sip of water and popped a mint into her mouth. While Tori helped Jordan clean up, Colby closed her eyes. Her head ached, her stomach rumbled, and she wanted to get high.

Meadow Farm

Once Colby was released from the medical detox wing, Meadow Farm was pretty awesome. If she didn't include the agony of her first couple of days there, she could imagine that Meadow Farm was a lot like the summer camps Colby never went to as a kid. There was a main lodge—where Colby stayed in a room with three other girls—a pool and a nightly campfire. Small cabins for moms and their kids ringed the actual meadow, and there was a playground, and a trail led down to the beach. The counselors were all mellow and easygoing, and no one asked nosy questions.

So far Colby hadn't told anyone that she was pregnant. She didn't want to talk about it, so she let people think she was already a mom. There were several girls whose kids were in foster care. She let everyone think she was one of them. She didn't lie about it. She just didn't say otherwise. The girls who were pregnant never shut up about it. It didn't matter if they were keeping the baby or not. They talked about being pregnant. A lot.

Colby didn't want to talk. Maybe not ever. And there'd be no reason to, once she had an abortion.

Or if she had an abortion.

Or once she decided to keep the baby.

Either way, it was nobody's business.

Either way, Colby couldn't decide.

She wanted the baby. She didn't want the baby.

She wanted to get high. She didn't want to get high.

She wanted to be at Meadow Farm. She didn't want to be at Meadow Farm.

She wanted to tell Milo. She didn't want to tell Milo.

Well, that last one wasn't quite true. She did want to tell him. Just not yet. Whenever they talked on the phone, she could tell that he knew there was more to what was going on. Colby was sure that Gigi hadn't told him, even after their fight. But still, he knew something was up.

And then, one night about a month into her ninety days, she woke up and knew, even while she lay in bed staring at the little toy fox she'd placed beside the alarm clock that now blinked 3:32
AM
, that it was time to tell Milo. Something had shifted, and now the decision to tell him seemed like the most obvious thing in the world. She could hardly believe that she hadn't already told him. What had she been thinking?

And then she remembered all the other decisions that she hadn't made. The ones she was pushing out of her mind. Ignoring.

The only one that was easy now was not getting high.

In case she kept the baby.

For herself. Or to give away.

Too hard to think about.

Colby put the fox into her pocket and slipped past her roommates and down the hall to the lounge. There was a little room off to one side, just big enough for a couch, a side table and a lamp. The couch was heaped with pillows and had a knitted throw at one end. There was a box of Kleenex on the table, and a notepad and pen.

This was where people could go to get in touch with their family and friends. Have conversations in private. Make amends over the phone, if they were at that step in the twelve-step meetings they had around the campfire each night.

People were supposed to book the room, in half-hour chunks. Colby hadn't. But it was empty. She slipped into the room and shut the door. She opened the window and took a deep breath of the salty sea breeze. The moon was nearly full, high and glowing above the water. Colby curled up on the couch and pulled the throw over her lap. She stared at the moon.

She sat like that for a few moments, holding her cell phone in her hand.

Milo probably wasn't even home. Or if he was, he probably had a date. Colby closed her eyes and imagined him in his bed. He lived in the West End, in a tiny loft apartment no bigger than Gram's living room.

His bed was up a set of stairs, in the loft part, which was above the kitchen. It was a new bed frame but made to look like one of those really old-fashioned wrought-iron ones. Milo had an expensive mattress that one of his boyfriends had bought for him. At least, Colby thought it was an actual boyfriend, not one of the men who just paid him for sex.

Colby squeezed her eyes tight, pushing away the image of Milo and some old guy having sex. She hated that he made money that way.

Before she lost her will, Colby brought her phone to her ear and listened as it rang. And rang. And rang.

She got his message. “
You've reached the blazing-hot saddle of Milo. Leave me your details and we can arrange for you to
come
for a good time.
”

Colby hung up.

She was just about to try him again when her phone rang.

“Where the hell is this Meadow Farm prison?” Milo yawned. “Is it awful? Do you hate it? Can I come rescue you? I'm dating this guy who has a car. Like, a nice car. That actually works. Not like that piece of crap Timothy had.”

“Hi, Milo.”

“Hi, Colby.” Milo yawned again. “Kiss, kiss.”

“Were you sleeping?” asked Colby.

“Yeah. Weird, right? Totally crashed.”

“Binge?”

“Never mind,” he said. Colby could hear him lighting a cigarette. He took a long pull and spoke as he exhaled. “Tell me everything about the exciting life of a teenage girl in rehab. Have you met a big ol' dyke and jumped the fence?”

“Big ol' dyke, yes. No fence jumping.”

“Deets. I want to know everything.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me
everything
.”

Colby pulled at a loose thread in the throw. She wound it around her finger.

“Are you alone?” Colby winced, not wanting to know if he wasn't.