Life Interrupted (13 page)

              Ms. Flynn sits across from me, her desk between us, her hands linked together and resting under her chin as her elbows rest on the arms of her chair as she stares at me.  I want to laugh at her and make a joke like I do at the beginning of most of our talks, but we both know I won’t.  This isn’t a scheduled visit.  Though we don’t acknowledge it, this is the first time I’ve willingly come into her office and sought her out. Usually, I just wait for her to make the move.

             
“How are you, Rae?”

             
“Scared shitless.”  There, I said it. I don’t know if I feel better or worse, or if I feel anything at all anymore, but I do know I have to keep going now.  That’s the fucking problem with talking: once you start, it’s goddamned hard to stop.

             
“Oh? Why?”

I gotta give it to Ms. Flynn, not much rattles her;
but then, I’m hardly through my story so we can wait and see how calm she is after the load I’m about to dump on her.

             
“Well, Marcus has decided to show his disapproval of the fact that Gracie looks just like him by threatening me.  When I told him to get fucked—that’s a quote—he threatened to file custody papers and now I’m waiting to be served with a notice, while trying to figure out if it’s better to just let him see her or to battle him if it happens.”

             
Every part of me wants to battle.  I want to be the girl who is fearless, in control, unafraid of conflict and its consequence.  But it isn’t just me anymore—Gracie is mine, and if I fight I risk losing her in some form.  Somewhere during this rant it registers with me that I’ve grown in the past year.  Instead of just jumping in and telling Marcus to bring it (though some might argue telling him to shove his head up his ass was doing just that), I thought about Gracie first, of what it would do to her, to us, if I did that. 

             
After I unload all of this on Ms. Flynn, I sit there breathing heavily, the gap in my chest making it difficult to suck in air.  Grown or not, I’m still scared and it pisses me off.

             
“Rae, breathe.”

             
Suddenly, Ms. Flynn is next to me and I can feel her hand at my wrist, comforting me, taking my pulse, bringing me back from the edge.

             
“I’m okay,” I say, but the air still feels thin and I am certain that I am anything but. 

             
She leaves her hand on my wrist, probably for some psychobabble voodoo reason, but it does the trick in helping me get my shit together so I don’t tease her, even in my head.

             
“Is there more?”

             
I look over and find Ms. Flynn’s eyes are steady and direct on mine as she continues taking my pulse and soothing me. 
Fancy footwork, Flynn
, I think, but keep it to myself.  She always knows.  It’s as annoying as it is helpful at this moment.  I nod at her.

             
“Do you want to get it out?”

And yet another reason to like this reformed slut of a woman: she doesn’t pry.  When it matters, she’s direct and unbending in her pursuit to help.  She asks, not demands, and she does her best to bring you back, to bring you out of the dark hole t
hat can threaten to swallow you.  When I came back to school the fall following Gracie’s birth, I stopped seeing my counselor outside and began my weeklies with Ms. Flynn again.  As much as my counselor outside helped, I think I’m finally realizing just how much Flynn does for me, and how much I trust her.

             
I sit there for what seems like hours.  The bell to end class signals.  Five minutes later, the same one rings to begin class.  Not long after that I take a deep breath and plunge ahead.

             
“I slept with Tripp.  On Saturday.”  No reaction.
Impressive
.

             
“How did that make you feel?”

             
Orgasmic.
  Since I know this isn’t what she’s asking, I hold it back.  She smiles like she knows what I’ve just accomplished.

             
“At first, horrified.  I mean we’ve done this before and then he left me, acted like I was a nobody.  Isn’t that why Gracie’s here?”

             
Ms. Flynn shrugs.  “Gracie’s here because you had a baby.  No decision you make now is going to change that.”

“But it could.  Being with Tripp, really being with him means that he has to take me and Gracie, that he has to be ready for a relationship that isn’t normal for a senior in high school or a kid in college.  What if he finds out how hard it is?”

“Is that what you think?” she asks.  “That being intimate with Tripp is going to cause more pain? Do you not think he cares for you?”

Now the tears do come and because it’s Ms. Flynn, I don’t try to hide them.  She knows my baggage, my heartache, my failure, and she knows I won’t break even i
f I cry.  Just to be sure, I remind her of that.

She nods her head in acknowledgment.  “Have you spoken with Tripp since Saturday?” I nod my head.  “What did he say?”

I think back to the parking lot this morning when he looked at me and told me it had always been me, when he took my face in his hands and told me that I had always been his girl, that he had just been too afraid of losing me to really be with me.  Of how he wanted to be with me and Gracie, to help me have my dream.  To love me.

Ms. Flynn waits for me to tell her, to explain how he wants us to be together, and when I’m done, she stares at me and cocks her head.  “Rae, from everything you’ve just said, it appears that Tripp not only cares for you, but wants to be with you.”  I nod.  “Sinc
e you’re here, I have to ask, do you not feel the same way about him?”

That has my head snapping up so I can meet her gaze head on.  “Didn’t I just tell you I slept with him?” My voice is hard, like I’ve chewed glass and am doing everything I can to get it out, but Ms. Flynn doesn’t cower, she doesn’t stammer and apologize all over herself when I
release the look that says
I have five inches and ten pounds on you, don’t fuck with me
.  She simply nods again, like it’s the fucking answer to everything.

“Yes, you told me you slept with him, but that doesn’t answer my question.  Tripp said he loves you, Rachel.  Did you respond the same?”

“No.”  The words rip out of me and suddenly I’m out of my chair and pacing around—stalking, really, as I feel like there’s enough energy inside of me to fuel Tripp’s gas hog of a truck for months.  “No, I didn’t tell him the same because he can’t love me, he can’t be with me and help take care of me and Gracie.  It’s not his job.”

“Who said anything about jobs?”

I ignore her and keep going, the words that were so closed off thirty minutes ago when I was with him now spewing out of me like water from a fountain, only it’s not relief I feel but anger, burning bright and hot with something unfamiliar beneath the surface fueling all of it. 

“Gracie is
mine
.  She’s my baby, my choice.  I didn’t have to have her.  No one forced me to, no one asked me to, no one even knew I was pregnant until I made my decision.  And I don’t even know why I made it, I mean, it’s not like I was attached to Marcus and the thought of giving his baby away or not having it was the deciding factor.”

“What was?” Ms. Flynn asks and I stop beca
use suddenly, I know the answer and it’s not one I like.

“What?” I ask, my instinct to stall and divert kicking in.

Ms. Flynn just smiles and repeats.  “We never spoke about why you chose to have Gracie instead of terminate the pregnancy or put her up for adoption.  Maybe now’s the time.”  When I just stare at the pictures on her bookcase, Ms. Flynn asks again.  “What made you decide to keep a baby when you were sixteen, Rachel, when you admittedly didn’t feel anything for the father?”

The words are there, without being conjured and thought, they’re just there on the tip of my tongue as if they’ve been waiting to be said. 
“She was mine.” 

I stay where I am, looking at the pictures, the frames, the books on that shelf without really seeing any of them because all I can see is myself two years ago after I peed on that stick and realized that my life wasn’t my own anymore.  Even if I hadn’t chosen to keep Gracie, she still would have been a part of me, still would have changed me.  “I’ve never really done anything right.  No matter how hard I try, I always seem to make a mess of things, like my parents.  I was that baby that was supposed to complete the family and i
nstead they broke apart.  This is a trend that’s followed me my entire life, you know? I mean, I couldn’t even be promiscuous in the right way, for God’s sake.  One time and there she was, my panda bear.”  I turn away from the bookshelves and back to Ms. Flynn.  “I was even more scared that day, looking at that screen and seeing her, and even though I didn’t tell anyone I knew then that I was keeping her, that this was my chance to do something right.  The timing was wrong, the person was wrong, but not the baby.  I knew if I had her, if I loved her, she would be the one thing in life I could be truly proud of.” 

Saying it aloud I realize how selfish it sounds, how uncaring.  I kept a baby because I wanted to do something right, not because I l
oved her.  When I say this, Ms. Flynn just smiles. 

“Whatever you think, whatever reasons you had for keeping Gracie, you do have something to
be proud of, and it isn’t just her.  Do you know that, Rae?”

I nod my head, but I don’t say anything.  There are times I’m not sure
, but I just can’t get into anything more with this woman.  How do you go through the fact that you didn’t love your baby when she was born? How do you explain to someone what it’s like to know that you should feel something that you don’t feel? Ms. Flynn knows about my depression after Gracie was born, and she knows I’m working on accepting the fact that I ignored my daughter.  She’s the one who knows it all—and still, how do you really explain to someone what it feels like to realize you didn’t love your daughter when she was born? 

“Rae?” Ms. Flynn’s voice brings me back and I shake my head. 
I’m sinking and I don’t know if I’ll be ever to find steady ground again. Ms. Flynn sighs (an indication she’s tabling this for another time) and leans back in her chair, still looking at me.  “So you have a baby, your life has changed, your dreams and your future are no longer just yours, something you’ve just said you knew and accepted when you realized you wanted Gracie, but now you have the boy you’ve admittedly loved your entire life telling you he loves you and wants to be with you and you don’t give him those feelings in return.  Why?”

“Because he might leave.” 
Exhausted, I give in and sit again, tucking my hands under my legs.  “I love Gracie, she was my choice and I know she’s my life now.  But every time I look back to that night with Marcus and think about what decision I would make if I could do it over, I don’t know if I would make the same one, even knowing her and loving her like I do.  How can I ask someone else to make that choice when I’m not sure I would if given the chance to do it over?”

Ms. Flynn is quiet for a moment and I’m grateful, grateful for her silence rather than her reassurance that I’m normal for thinking like this.  Normal? Please.  I surpassed normal and went straight into Toon-Town years ago.  Maybe Katie’s not the only one with daddy issues. 

As I ponder this new thought, Ms. Flynn reaches over and touches my shoulder.  “Do you trust Tripp, Rachel?”

And there it is.  The reason Ms. Fucking-Flynn is so goddamned effective.  I shake my head.  Tears begin to gather and I want to slap myself for the fact that I a
ppear so weak.  I survived being pregnant in high school and can pretty much beat up any person, male or female, I put my mind to—why am I such a crier these days?

Because I love my best friend but I don’t trust him to love me back.  Rat bastard.  These tears are his fault.

“Why not?” Ms. Flynn asks and I shrug.  She waits, because it’s a bullshit thing to do and we both know I’m using it as a stall technique.  “Why can’t you trust Tripp when he tells you he loves you, Rae?”

I don’t want to answer, don’t want to give her any more than I have.  I’m drowning as it is, drowning in the idea that Tripp may really love me, that he may want to be with me, and still, my mouth opens and the words are there before I register them. “Because he’s already walked away.  If he loved me, why did he do that?”

“Is he still with Lauren?”

I hesitate and then shake my head.  “They broke up Saturday night.”

“Did he tell her why?”  I nod.  “So, he admitted that he’s been unfaithful to her because he loves you.”  I shake my head.  “He didn’t admit to her that he was unfaithful? Or did he not tell her it was because he loves you?”

“He broke up with her before he came to see me, before we had sex.”

Her eyebrow shoots up on one side.  Of course this would get a reaction, but when I mention orgasmic sex she takes it without batting an eyelash.

“So, he’s already shown his commitment to you by eliminating a relationship that previously kept you apart.  He showed his desire to be faithful by doing this before he came to see you.”  The brow arches higher.  “What makes you more nervous, Rachel? The fact that he’s already tried to show he loves you
, or that he might just mean it?”