Book Of Narratives

1957

Nervousness.

It gnaws at her, eating away at her conscience and breaking through her crumbling resolve, and all she can do to help sooth the fear of being disowned and slandered, is to get some assurance that nothing bad is going to happen in the future.

Is she afraid? Of course she is. I mean, wouldn't you if you realised that you may or may not be pregnant? And no, that's not even the worst of it. She is silently beating herself inside, as the father, if she is pregnant that is, is someone not many people would consider a human being. He is one of course, but his race gets slandered a lot for being the colour they are.

Libby's boyfriend of two years, that her homophobic and racist parents didn't know about, is black and with them living in Alabama, well, it makes it more difficult for the African-Americans to live decently considering the racism against them.

Suzy was not racist to be perfectly honest, she's not even bothered about race, gender or sexuality. She was mostly influenced by Elvis Presley in that retrospect. But, ever since she was little, seeing the people around her disregarding black Americans as if they weren't even human, just disgusted her. How can they be like that? Watching the civil rights movement grow, inspired her to be her own self, and encouraged her to be friends with whoever she wanted.

And then, at age eleven, she met Michael, her boyfriend.

They met by startling means, when white boys that were a year older than them were trying to gang up on him. She heard them call him all sorts of rude words, that she'd never wish to repeat. She saw them push Michael around, and then she helped him, by standing between him and the bullies.

They were inseparable ever since.

Suzy bites her nails in anxiety, while her fingers shake. She looks around her at all the women, some younger; others older. She is at the maternity clinic. Suzy had to go to the one two towns over, for obvious reasons. If she went to the one where she lives, the whole community would know before she even went in, and that would mean her parents would know. Then, she'd get a scolding for being recklessness, and a lecture of life. Plus, they'd demand to see the father. And honestly, that'd be murder. Literally.

So, she decidedly came here, which is what the majority if teens do nowadays.

A nurse came out, calling Suzy's name, and Suzy, while scared and regretful, stands to her feet. Everyone looks up at the terrified teen, almost feeling sympathetic over her predicament, and Suzy just feels more shameful.

Everything feels like slow motion, her steps hyperbolically hard and robotic, her breathing loud, a seemingly overwhelming bubble wrapping around her. Suzy clenches her fists to her lap, as she takes a seat, wholly droning out what the doctor says.

What seems like forever, Suzy leaves the clinic aghast, her face showing the shock and disbelief. She couldn't believe it. She, she couldn't be. It was impossible. Suzy recalls the night she gave herself to Michael, wholly and completely, their bodies entwined together like an intricately designed web of love, unbreakable. She recollects that Michael had pulled out before anything could've happened. She was so sure they were so safe. So how is this possible?

She feels numb all over, as she makes her way to her red Cadillac across the street, still in disbelief over being pregnant.  The thoughts stays to the forefront of her mind, weaving around her brain matter like an annoying fly.

All the way home, these thoughts churn in her, and the fear of being disowned by her racist family sets in, leading her to one place. One place where she knows fully is the place she won't be scolded: Michael's parents house.