Crank Series: Crank Part 50

The ride home was easy.

Robyn offered to drive, as long as it didn't interfere with her cheerleading.

The $500, however, presented a challenge.

My bank account was low desert dry.

The Visa was maxed high.

Chase refused to help.

He was "floored" by my decision.

Another option came to mind, one that owed me a lot more than money.

First Brendan denied paternity.

I reminded him about DNA.

Next he claimed poverty.

I threatened full disclosure.

To his hoity parents. To his toity girlfriend.

To his probation officer.

(A DUI, post-Air Races.) Okay, he'd cough up the money.

Distasteful as it was to see him again, it provided a matchless opportunity.

You sure you're pregnant?

You sure it's mine?

You're not b-s-ing me?

"I'm sure. It's yours. No bull.

Hard to believe your b.a.l.l.s were big enough to accomplish it, huh?"

How Big

were my b.a.l.l.s?

Big enough to follow through?

I.

Didn't Sleep the night before, just sat at the window staring at starlight, gentle glitters upon a crust of new snow, wis.h.i.+ng I could wish upon a star and make it all just an evil dream, one I could wake from, but no such luck.

Mesmerized

More Choices

I told you once before that life is full of choices Sometimes, good or bad, hard or easy, we make the right choices.

When I told my mom, she cried and cursed my choices.

Then she softened and thanked me for honoring my child.

She and Scott argued, talked and finally agreed to offer haven as long as I finished school.

Chase likewise promised to care for us, work two jobs if need be. It gave me even more to love him for, but I sent him off to USC. As my baby grew, mother love replaced romantic love, almost diminished love for the monster. I tried to quit, but my need was so deep I did slip once or twice.

One tiny snort was all it took to satisfy desire so deep it s.n.a.t.c.hed my breath away.

But don't worry.

I swear it was only a time or two.

You won't tell, will you?

I Won't Bore You

Highs

10) Feeling my baby move at 16 weeks exactly, knowing it wasn't gas, but something-someone- incredibly, remarkably, alive.

9) Calling Dad and getting Linda Sue. Asking her to define "hummer" before imparting the fabulous news that her boyfriend was to become a grandpa.

8) My ultrasound-seeing a heart, beating strong inside me.

Having my doctor inform me that my baby was all in one piece, then suggest I shop "blue."

7) My school counselor, Mrs. Green, arranging a home-study program to let me graduate right on schedule.

(Six days before I gave birth!) 6) Calling Grandma, expecting a lecture and getting one- about how every baby, regardless of circ.u.mstances, is an angel on a special mission.

5) Scott's losing his anger long enough to teach me to drive. Getting my driver's license when Grandma left me her obnoxious (but mint) '75 LTD.

4) Jake, sharing his Internet research on fetal development. Did you know that a fertilized egg, 36 hours old, is the size of a pinhead?

3) Sorting through 35,000 names in the Dummy's Guide to Naming Your Baby, opting for the strong, masculine moniker Hunter Seth.

2) Epidurals. I meant to do Lamaze, really I did, but I managed to miss most of the cla.s.ses.

Here's to labor, without unimaginable pain!

And ...

The #1 Best Thing

about those seven months: Holding my baby for the first time, knowing just how to do it.

Thinking his red, scrunched-up face was really quite handsome.

Unwrapping the blanket to count fingers, eyes, ears, and toes, Finding all twenty-four, precisely where they ought to be.

Crying because suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, everything felt right.

Lows

10) Morning sickness. Puking my guts out as soon as I lifted my head from the pillow, each and every day for weeks and weeks.

9) Listening to Mom and Scott argue. About me.

About the baby.

About the odds of it being some sort of freak.

8) Trying to quit tobacco after learning how every puff made my baby's heart stop beating. How could I be so hooked?

7) Going to school (before my "condition" became obvious) an outsider.

Knowing my old friends and I had lost all common ground.

6) Boredom. The succession of little-to-do days, stretching longer and longer toward the longest day of the year.

5) Long letters from Chase.

USC was great.

The football team was great. Los Angeles was great.

Great enough to call it home.

4) My dad's silence. He did call once, to confirm Linda Sue's tale. Then not a word, as if not talking about it could make the "problem" disappear.

3) Losing Grandma, just when I'd found her again.