Through the Windshield Glass (8 page)

“Lacey,” I
whispered, “how could you say that?’

“How could you
say yes to him?” Lacey returned icily.

My jaw dropped,
tears filled my eyes, I tried to turn into Daman for support, but he was just
standing and staring at my parents, anger in his eyes.

“We’re
leaving.” Daman said.

“I never
thought any of my children would betray this family,” my mother said coolly, “I
thought I raised you better than that.”

My family
stepped back and my mother slammed the door in my face.

I could feel my
lower jaw trembling with the effort of not breaking down. I was beginning to
see why the door had been labeled misery. I was completely miserable by now,
but I knew it would get better, I still had Daman.

I turned to
look at Daman, expecting to see him looking down at me, expecting him to tell
me that everything would be okay, that we didn’t need the support of my family
in this. As long as we had each other we’d be fine, so what if our children
didn’t know their grandparents. We didn’t have to tell them that their
grandparents had been abusive to their father and had disowned their mother.
There was no need for that, and if we were lucky we could find some elderly
couple to adopt as grandparents and our children wouldn’t have to be any the
wiser as they were growing up. Or better yet, to save them the pain of losing
grandparents when they were young, we would just tell them that their
grandparents had died before they were born. We could make everything okay, I
knew we could.

The only
problem was, when I turned to look at Daman he wasn’t there. My heart jumped to
my throat and my stomach dropped. I whipped around and saw Daman walking away
from me; he was already halfway down my street.

“Daman!” I
yelled. My voice cracked with the effort.

He didn’t turn
around. I raced down the steps and sprinted after him, I wasn’t going to lose
him again. I felt like I was running through pudding, but I finally made it to
Daman. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him around to face me.

“Where are you
going?” I asked.

“I was leaving
you to live with your family, I’m not going to be the reason our child grows up
without grandparents.” he said.

“I don’t care
about that,” I said, desperately, I was out of breath, but I did my best to
sound forceful.

“Well I do!”

I was taken
aback by how loudly Daman yelled. I didn’t think he was capable of that kind of
noise.

“You’re
pregnant, you need them to help you raise that child and I’m no good for it, go
back to them, ask for their forgiveness, they’ll take you back.” Daman said.

I couldn’t
believe what I was hearing, “I’m not pregnant,” I said.

“You told me
you were.”

“No,” I said,
my voice rising, “I’m not! You just told my parents I wasn’t!”

“You’re the one
who told me you were,” Daman said.

I was extremely
confused, to the extent of my knowledge there was no way on the face of the
planet I could be pregnant. The nightmare continued.

Daman’s face
was sad, but firm, “Go back to your family, raise the kid there. I’m no good
for it; you’ll be a great mom. Just let me know where to send the child support
and alimony, okay?”

I let go of
Daman’s sleeve, my hand dropping lamely to my side.

“What?” I
whispered, “You’re really going to leave me because of what my parents said?”

But Daman was
already turning away from me, I was losing him again, this time it was worse
though. He wasn’t morphing into a door; he wasn’t being ripped away from me. He
was choosing to leave me. He was choosing to let me go back to a family that
didn’t want me, with a child growing inside me.

The more steps
Daman took away from me, the more I felt as though my heart was being ripped
out, and the more my anger rose.

“I hate you!” I
screamed through my tears at him, “How could you do this to me?” My screams
ripped at
　
my throat and
　
tore my tongue. I dropped to the
ground, my knees striking the pavement, opening holes in my jeans. I sat there
and sobbed, suddenly very aware of how my stomach felt.

“It’s better
that you hate me,” Daman said, “it’ll make it easier on both of us,”

“You don’t want
to do this! You’ll be a great dad, you won’t hurt me!” I tried through my
tears. I felt like someone else was speaking and feeling for me, just as it had
in the previous doors. I knew I couldn’t possibly love Daman as much as some part
of my brain was fooled into believing.

“I’m not going
to take the chance,” Daman said, and this time when he turned away and I yelled
his name, he didn’t look back. He just kept walking. He was really gone this
time. I knew I couldn’t go back to my parents. What would they say? They would
just tell me I got what I deserved, they would just say that I had made my bed
and now I had to lie in it.

I looked around
for a door to lead me back to my hallway, surely I was as  miserable as I could
possibly get, but there was no door, I just had to accept this wasn’t the end
of my suffering.
　

Chapter Thirteen

I should have
built up to it. I should have chosen a door that was a little friendlier like
murder, or being eaten by sharks; I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.
Even knowing that none of this was real, I couldn’t rationalize my feelings. I
couldn’t make myself see that everything would be fine. My feelings were
completely real, and outside of my control. It was like I was in a play, and
completely in character. Like I had gone crazy from the role I was playing. It
made me sick. I crawled to some bushes in a neighboring yard and vomited. It
burned my already raw throat and stung my nose.

When I had
finished I rolled over on my back and stared up at the sky where the sun was
setting. It reminded me of a place where I just might be happy. I dragged
myself to my feet and shakily started off in what I hoped was the right
direction. Pretty soon I realized I had no idea where I was going. In life, I
would have been at Rosemary Park by now, but apparently a place that had always
held so much happiness for me was unattainable in a place all about being
miserable. My feet ached, my stomach hurt, my throat felt like it was bleeding,
and I had lost everyone I cared about in less than ten minutes. That shouldn’t
even be possible. I was glad I didn’t have to go through it when I was alive, I
don’t think I could have handled it, I would’ve killed myself. I wouldn’t have
been able to bear being so alone, knowing that no one wanted me in their lives,
and knowing that my unborn child was going to suffer the life of living with an
impoverished single mother. I still couldn’t believe I was pregnant, but every
impossible thing imaginable had already happened, why not that?

I knew there
was nothing I could do but accept whatever the door had in store for me. I
checked in the pockets of my jeans and jacket for some kind of identification
or house keys, or a little cash since I was starting to get really hungry. My
jacket pockets came out completely and depressingly empty, as did all of the
pockets in my jeans. I should have known. This experience was all about misery.
I was going to be on my own, but maybe...

"James!"
I yelled, reopening the pain in my throat.

He didn't come,
I knew he wouldn't, all I had achieved by yelling was my throat hurting worse than
ever before.

I set off in
the direction I had come from; I thought maybe if I just wandered around long
enough my suffering would end. The sun was setting and cold desert night was
starting to settle on the land around me. The cold wind tickled its way up the
sleeves of my jacket, chilling me to the bones, making my muscles seize and
ache even more. I pulled my jacket as tightly as I could around my body, hoping
to create some extra warmth and protection from the wind. Without even thinking
I let my feet plod on, I figured I might as well let them lead since my brain
had no idea where to go.

I watched the
stars rise in the heavens, followed by the moon, still as full and bright as it
was in the park when I first met Daman. I winced; his name was like a knife in
my heart every time I thought about it. I started quietly singing to myself to
try and alleviate some of the tension I was feeling. However, I quickly
realized, the longer I searched for the words of happy songs, the more they
evaded me. Eventually I settled back into silence and just followed my feet.

My stomach
growled loudly, reminding me that, not only did I have myself to feed, but the
little life inside of me, relying on me to keep it alive. That was the only
thing that kept me going. After what felt like ten miles later but was probably
closer to half a mile, I came across my saving grace: a soup kitchen.

I nearly
tripped over myself as I hurried inside, I felt light-headed from all the
walking and crying I had done.

I guess I
looked really beaten up and exhausted when I walked into the kitchen because I
was immediately set upon by an elderly woman who led me to a seat and told me
not to move until I had eaten something.

I stared
blearily around the brightly lit room. There were about a dozen other people in
the room,  I noticed one was another pregnant woman. Disobeying the old woman's
command to stay seated, I drunkenly made my way over to the other expectant
mother.

She was staring
dismally into a bowl of lentil soup, looking as if she wanted to drown herself
in the dregs, and the only thing keeping her from attempting to do so was her
belly which prevented her from leaning close enough to the table. I estimated
that she was close to eight months pregnant.

"Hi,"
I said to the woman, taking the seat next to her, "I'm Alice; it looks
like we're in the same boat."

The woman
glanced up at me without really seeing me. There was something about her face
that seemed familiar. It wasn't until she said her name that I understood why.

"I'm
Rebecca," she said.

I gasped
Rebecca! James' wife! She hadn't recognized me yet, maybe she wouldn’t, and
that would probably be for the best. It seemed I had gotten away with my
deception, then, recognition dawned in Rebecca's eyes. She looked at me again,
took in every detail of my face and slowly recognition dawned.

"Alice?"
Rebecca said slowly, "Alice Patterson?"

I didn't
answer; I had turned around to see if I could find the woman who had promised
me soup.

"You
killed my husband," Rebecca whispered, "You killed him!" this
time her words came out sounding akin to a banshee shriek.

Everyone in the
kitchen was looking in our direction now.

"I didn't
kill your husband, Rebecca," I whispered to her. Why was she in a soup
kitchen? Why hadn’t my parents taken her in after James died?

"You might
as well have!" Rebecca was on her feet now, the lentil soup lay completely
forgotten on the table.

The old woman
came out with my soup, "What's going on?" she demanded.

"She
killed my husband!" Rebecca yelled, pointing an accusing finger at my
face.

"No, I
didn't," I pleaded desperately, “Why are you here, Rebecca? Why aren’t you
with your parents or mine?”

The old woman
walked up to me and handed me the soup, "I think you should leave, dear,
you can take the soup. This young lady has been through a lot. Her husband
died, and she's very pregnant."

"I'm
pregnant too!" I wanted to yell, but didn't, I still didn't believe it
myself so why would they? I mumbled a 'thank you', and hurried out of the
kitchen. Rebecca's screams followed me out into the cold night.

I sank down on
the curb outside the soup kitchen. I hadn't noticed until the cold air hit it,
but, as I had been rushing out of the kitchen some of the scalding soup had
sloshed over the side of the Styrofoam bowl and burnt my right hand, which was
now throbbing painfully.

Sighing, I
awkwardly used my left hand to hold the bowl to my mouth while I drank. I
nearly spat out the soup on the first sip. It was creamy potato soup, my least
favorite food in the entire world. I was tempted to set the bowl aside and see
what I could dig out of the dumpsters behind the kitchen, but my growling
stomach told me that wouldn't be wise. There was no guarantee I'd find
something edible, and I had more than just me riding on this bowl of potato
soup.

I used my
stinging right hand to plug my nose, and drank the hot soup as quickly as I
could, leaving a trail of burnt taste buds in its place. I had to work to keep
the soup down, but eventually I was satisfied it wasn't going to come back up.
I decided to leave before Rebecca came out and found me.

I tucked my
left hand safely in my jacket pocket and let my right dangle out in the cool
air, if I was lucky, it wouldn't swell up too bad and I wouldn't get an
infection. I did feel a little better though, I wasn't full but my stomach had
stopped protesting at every step I took. Now all I had to do was find a decent
place to sleep. I had an idea of how to get one, but I didn't want to have to
resort to it if I didn't have to.

There was still
one place I could check before I went with plan B. There were a lot of factors
though. Would she even be here? Were we still friends? There was only one way
to find out. I turned back in the direction I had come from and started
walking. Maria and I had lived less than a block away from each other when I
was alive.

The trip back
to my neighborhood went much faster than the trip from it. Maybe because I had
food in my stomach, or maybe because I was doing what I was supposed to now,
either way, I was actually making progress. It took me less than ten minutes of
trudging through the cold to find Maria's house. I was so glad to see it there,
still standing and with lights on, that I nearly cried. Surely, she wouldn't
turn away her old, pregnant best friend.