XVIII

“That bastard!” For once, I wasn’t talking from my own personal experience. Carrie had just come home from an early night at the bar, and I had taken a night off from the boys, cuddled up by myself on the couch with a book when she got home. Despite the fact that I’d been throwing up all night, I tried to be there for her and put my own misery aside.
“He said it was too intense for him right now. That he loves me, but he can’t deal with a relationship right now.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? God I hate men.”
“And that’s not all. He’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Leaving to where?”
“He doesn’t know yet. He just needs to get away. He’s going to backpack around Europe or some shit like that. I sure know how to pick them, huh?”
“Don’t we all? Listen; let’s go to the diner, that always makes you feel better.”
“My happiness cannot be bought with food.” I looked at her skeptically. “It is a good start though.”
A hop, skip, and jump later we were at our usual booth at the back of the Townhouse diner. Carrie was going on and on in an arm-flailing rant about the shortcomings of the male species, while I flipped frantically through the small menu I hadn’t picked up in over a year.
“What are you doing?” Carrie paused for a moment. I looked up from my menu.
“What?” It didn’t seem odd to be looking at the menu. After all, I had been getting the exact same egg and cheese concoction since we’d start coming to this place some two years ago. It was time to change things up.
“You never look at the menu.”
“I know, what if I’m missing something really good.” I looked back down at the menu and then smiled triumphantly. I’d found the perfect late night meal.
“The usual?” Our waitress approached the table with our coffees, two creams and no sugar for Carrie and four sugars no cream for me. When she looked up from her balancing act, she shot a confused look in my direction, nodding down to the menu in my hands.
“Can’t a girl look at a menu around here?”
“I’ll have the usual,” said Carrie to keep the peace.
“And you, Jane?”
“Alright,” I began, clearing my throat. “I will have Two pancakes, strawberries on the side, no syrup with butter on top, and whipped cream on the strawberries.”
“Okay, coming right up.”
“Wait, I’m not finished. And can I also have a cup of tomato juice and a side order of home fries?”
“Sure.” Our waitress walked away, shaking her head as she noted the strange order.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I looked at Carrie and her suddenly still arms.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” I ran to the bathroom and made it into the stall just in time to throw up the pretzels and chocolate ice cream that I’d had just hours earlier. On the walk home, we stopped at the all night pharmacy to pick up a pregnancy test.
“Are you sure it’s pink?” It was the third time that Carrie had asked me that question.
“I’m sure. It’s a pretty clear indicator. Pink yes, blue no. Purple would be a bit confusing, but alas, it’s pink.” I could feel all of my cardiovascular muscles contracting and my breath shortening. I’d never had a panic attack but I was fairly certain that’s what was going on.
Gripping the sink to steady myself, I crouched to the floor and vomited again, this time from the nerves. I had no idea what I was going to tell Adam and Eric. I didn’t even know which one to tell. I was almost positive that it wasn’t Greg’s, but then again, that would be my luck. I related these concerns to Carrie.
“You used a condom, right?
“Of course I used a fucking condom… with Greg at least.”
“Shit Janie.” She paused thoughtfully. “How far along do you think you are?”
“I don’t know… Maybe three months.”
“It’s been that long since you’ve…” She raised her eyebrows. I nodded. “You didn’t think that was a little strange?”
“I’ve never been regular. Plus I’m not on birth control anymore, so I figured that it was just working itself out.”
“Right… So what now?”
That was a good question. One I didn’t have an answer to. Would I be insane to try and raise a child? Yes. That answer was easy, but I was insane, wasn’t I? What about Eric and Adam? What about my parents? I had to give it up.
“I have to get an abortion.”
“Maybe you should think about it a little bit first.”
“Think about what? There’s no other choice. What, me and you and a baby in this tiny little apartment, come on.”
“What about adoption?”
“What about it? I’d still have to take time off from school. I’d still have to go through six more months of bullshit, and for what? To give a baby to someone I don’t even know?”
“Don’t you think you should at least talk to Eric and Adam about it first?”
“And say what? ‘Well guys, I am pregnant with one of your babies, but I’m not really sure which one, and I don’t think I want to keep it.’ Yeah, that would go over really well—“
“Carrie, they deserve to know!” She was yelling now, which caught me off guard, but I was too upset to stop myself from yelling back.
“What the hell would you know about it, huh?”
“More than you think, okay?”
“What?”
“James and I… we… I…”
“Carrie. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not fucking okay. Nothing’s ever okay. I killed my baby, and then I killed James.”
“You didn’t kill James.”
“I may as well have. He killed himself because of me, because of our baby that I murdered.”
“Carrie, you can’t do that to yourself. Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true. You’re so much fucking better than me, and you know it, and I know it. Don’t do the same thing that I did.”
“What the fuck are you talking about ‘so much better than you’?”
“Oh please, don’t act like that’s not what you think. I’m like the little sister that you have to take care of. I know you’d rather not deal with all of the shit I make you put up with.”
“That’s not fucking true. Don’t give me that crap. All our lives everyone’s always loved you! You always get all of the attention, all of the guys… Miss Prom Queen.”
“Fuck you! I never asked to be Prom Queen. All the fucking guys? What about Eric and Adam? Huh? Yeah, you don’t ever get any attention from guys. That’s why you don’t even know who the fuck the father of your illegitimate child is. I may be a murderer, but at least I’m not a whore.”
I couldn’t believe she’d said that. I stared at her blankly for a moment… then turned and stormed out of the room. I grabbed my overnight bag from my closet and stuffed a few odds and ends into it. Carrie appeared in the doorway.
“Where are you going?”
“To my whorehouse. Why do you care?” I breezed past her and ran down the stairs and all the way to Adam and Eric’s apartment. I didn’t tell them about the baby, or any of the specifics of our argument, just that I couldn’t spend the night there.
I spent that night on the pull out couch in the living room, but despite the surprising comfort of the well-worn mattress, I couldn’t sleep at all. Just before dawn, I slipped my shoes on and tip-toed out the front door, closing the door just-too-loud behind me.
I felt bad going to wake Carrie up, but I needed to talk to her or I wasn’t ever going to get any sleep. As I got to my front steps I felt a little dizzy, but caught my balance before opening the front door. I just wanted to get upstairs, and in my haste forgot to lock the door behind me. I made it up the stairs, but fumbled with the apartment door, taking almost a full minute to get the bolt unlocked.
When I opened the door I felt a second wave of dizziness, something was wrong. The television was still on from the night before, gray fuzz illuminating the living room with after-hours local programming. It wasn’t like Carrie to leave the TV on. I stepped cautiously into the apartment, and as the kitchen came into view, I saw a limp hand outstretched into the kitchen from the half closed bathroom door.
I heard footsteps behind me from the stairwell, and as I turned to escape the image of the crimson pool on the white linoleum floor, I lost my balance once again, and tumbled down the first flight of stairs. I barely caught a glimpse of Adam and Eric before completely losing consciousness.