Daughter of a Whore [on hold]

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 "The natural state of motherhood is unselfishness. When you become a mother, you are no longer the center of your own universe. You relinquish that position to your children."

~Jessica Lange

After staying in bed and missing school for the whole week, I am still very tired. Alex hasn’t called, not that I want him to, but it still bothers me. It never bothered me when he didn't call, but for some reason now I expect it...

It’s not like I want us to get married or anything like that. Eww. I don’t even want him to know I’m pregnant for him. I don't know which is more disgusting: the fact that he's a father and that he's going to deny it; or that I got preggo in the first place. It’s like the boys get away with it so easily, and the girls have to carry the weight of humiliation. From my bed I stare at my face in the mirror. Why did I start dating him again? 

Sunday morning, I sit up on my bed at the sound of Mom’s heels heading my direction. She comes in and peruses my room, talking her time to phrase her words.

“When’s your next appointment date at the center?” She asks without looking at me. 

“Huh?" She turns to look at me now. "Oh, the appointment. Umm…” I told her earlier this week that I had made an appointment at the Center, that has a “Your Body, Your Choice” slogan. For an abortion.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, men, I forgot.” I slap my hand on my forehead for effect.

“You didn’t make that appointment, did you?”

“Oh, I did." I lied. "I think being pregnant is just messing up with my memory.”

“Don’t lie to me, Delta. I went to the center today, and the woman there said you never came.”

She went there, and talked to them?

“I went in disguise, under another name.” From now on, let the records read that Delta is a horrible liar. “Ok fine." I admit. "I didn’t go; I told you I’m keeping the baby.” I brave myself and say this with an attitude.

“No, you’re not! I am your mother, I have more experience, and I know what I’m talking about. I won't go through the shame and humiliation.  You’re not keeping it as long as you’re in this house.”

“You have more experience...Why am I not surprised? Well, I’m leaving,” I get off the bed and walk toward the bathroom.

“Where to?”

I throw my hands in the air. “Somewhere! Where people love me. I’m leaving. You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do.” My voice cracked.Tears that I’ve been keeping away for so long say they too can’t stand it anymore. I wipe them away quickly, but they keep coming. What is this? I don't cry just like that.

I grab my phone, and car keys. Mom looks at me with wide eyes and opened mouth. I wind pass her, and take the stairs down in twos. I stop at the bottom of the staircase, and turn around to find her standing there watching me. She’s doesn’t even beg me to stay?

“Well aren’t you going to say goodbye?” I wipe more tears with the back of my hand. “Maybe give me a few bucks in farewell? You might never get to see me again..” I know that last line was a bit dramatic, but hey, I'm kinda desperate here.

“I don’t have any money.”

She doesn’t have any money for you, Delta, but she sure does for designer clothes and blonde highlights. And cigarettes. And french drinks.