Butterflies in May Page 15

  On Thursday, I’m working at Java House when Monica stops by to pick up her paycheck. I was about to go on break, so we go outside to talk, but not before I get a decaf cappuccino, and Monica goes for the high octane. I’m wearing my green Java House apron. Monica is wearing low-slung jeans, chunky platform boots, and a sweater with the American flag on the front. She’s been dressing a little less flamboyantly since things heated up with Kyle.

  “I’m no longer a virgin,” Monica dramatically announces as soon as we sit down at an outdoor table.

  “When?” Her news doesn’t surprise me that much. The way she’s been talking recently, I realized it was just a matter of time.

  “Last night. Mom and Steve are on their cruise.”

  “Do they know he’s staying over?”

  “Are you crazy? He told them he was working over spring break.

  They think he’s at school.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Mon.”

  “I’ve never felt like this with any other guy. I’m in love.”

  I stir my cappuccino and try not to smile. The L-word sounds funny coming from someone like Monica. She used to think that sex and love not only can be separated, but should be.

  “So, aren’t you going to ask me how it was?”

  “I thought you might want to keep that part private.”

  “You are so proper. . . for someone who’s knocked up,” she says gamely, licking the froth from a stirrer. We share the laugh, but then Monica gets serious. “It’s quite possibly the most intense experience of my life. And I’m so relieved I’ll never have to go through this first-time business again. But I can’t help feeling a little let down. I mean, everyone makes such a big deal out of it. I didn’t come, but I felt so close to him that it didn’t matter. He’s very hung up on me coming. Have you ever had an orgasm?”

  “Nope.”

  “You’re kidding? Not once? After all this time?”

  I shake my head. “Aunt Laura says that’s normal. According to her, it takes a lot of practice. She didn’t have one until she was twentysomething.”

  “Hmm. In the movies, everyone is always having orgasms.” Monica sighs. “I just wanted it to be perfect.”

  “Where is Kyle, anyway?”

  “He went back to the dorm to pick up his stuff. He’s spending the weekend with me.”

  Just then her cell phone rings. She picks it up on the first ring, smiles, and lowers her voice. I pick at my cup and pretend not to listen. Then she says, “I love you. No, I love you more. I do,” she says, twirling a lock of hair around and around her finger.

  When she hangs up, I just shake my head. “You are so pathetic,” I say, but the truth is, I’m a little jealous. It seems like forever since I felt that way.

  The phone rings that night at 10:30. I’m in bed, but I haven’t fallen asleep yet. I pick up the phone on the first ring, hoping it’s Matt, but it’s not.

  “Sorry to call so late, but I wanted you to know. . . I had my baby,” says Kelly. Her voice is so hoarse I almost don’t recognize it.

  “Wow, congratulations!” I try to sound excited for her, but the truth is, I’d rather be talking to Matt. “When was it born?”

  “This afternoon, at 1:08. It’s a girl. We named her Erica. She weighs six pounds, three ounces.” She sounds euphoric.

  “But it’s only the first week of April.” Her baby wasn’t due until the end of the month.

  “Yeah. It’s a good thing the nursery is ready.”

  Before we hang up, I promise to stop by and see her the next day.

  “Okay,” Kelly says. “But come by the apartment. We’re checking out of the hospital at noon.”

  The next morning, when I tell my parents the news about Kelly, Mom asks if she can come along. Kelly and my mom met a few weeks ago when I invited her to dinner, and they hit it off right away. Mom spends the morning making her famous veggie lasagna to take with us.

  Later that afternoon, on the way to Kelly and Jared’s apartment, Mom pulls into a drug store to pick up perfume for Kelly, along with a jumbo-sized bag of diapers for newborns. “I just want to get her something,” she says. “Sometimes, new moms need a pick-me-up,” she explains, peeling the price tag off the perfume and dropping it into a gift bag.

  It’s a good perfume, the kind they keep locked in a glass case. I had gone out earlier to buy the baby a tiny pair of shorts and a t-shirt with a dog on the front. With tax, they cost more than twenty-five dollars. I couldn’t believe it.

  When we get there, Jared opens the door, eyes red, reeking of pot. “Hey,” he says, waving us in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him when he wasn’t stoned. “I’m on my way out,” he says, grabbing his jacket off the sofa and moving his bong off the coffee table, but not before my mom sees it. She glances away and says something about the weather.

  Before he leaves, he hands Kelly a bottle for the baby, then leans down and kisses the top of Erica’s head, which makes me like him more—not much more, though.

  “I hope you don’t mind my tagging along,” Mom says, sitting on the sofa next to Kelly.

  “Oh, no,” Kelly says, smiling. I wonder whether Kelly’s own mother has even seen the baby yet.

  “Oh, my. She is beautiful,” says Mom, smoothing the baby’s hair.

  “Do you want to hold her?” Kelly asks.

  “May I?” Mom reaches for her, then settles back on the couch and takes the bottle Kelly hands her.

  I’ve been very cool to my parents since the whole marriage thing came up. But watching Mom talk to Kelly and feed the baby, I realize just how much she cares, and how great she’s really handling everything.

  Kelly looks tired but happy. I give her the presents, and Kelly seems especially touched by the perfume.

  “So how was it?” I finally ask. “Tell me everything.” I’m a little afraid of going through labor, and I spend a lot more time thinking about it now that I’m so close.

  “Twenty-six hours of labor, three-and-a-half hours of pushing. I was so hungry, but they wouldn’t let me eat anything except ice chips. Afterwards, Jar ordered me a pizza.” She laughs.

  “What a good eater she is,” Mom says, holding up the empty bottle. She burps Erica on her shoulder. “Ali, do you want to hold her?”

  I know I should, but I’ve never held a baby this small. Mom hands Erica to me, and I feel so awkward at first, I actually break out in a sweat. She’s so tiny. But then Erica snuggles into the crook of my arm and falls asleep. She smells delicious, fresh and sweet, like baby powder.

  That’s when it hits me. Next month, I’ll be responsible for a tiny little person just like the one I’m holding in my arms. No, that’s not entirely right. Matt and I will be responsible. Just thinking of it scares me. We don’t know anything about babies.

  “Maybe we should start getting some things together for the baby,” I tell Mom on the way home.

  Mom keeps her eyes on the road. “Does that mean you and Matt have made definite plans?” she asks in that careful tone she seems to use so often with me lately.

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We haven’t worked out all the details, but as soon as Matt gets back from Florida. . .”

  Mom sighs. “Ali, this isn’t like playing house. This baby is for real.”

  “I know that.” The last thing I need is another lecture. Didn’t I just say we should get some things together for the baby?

  “Ali, how do you and Matt plan to pay for all the things you’ll need for a baby?”

  “We have money.” I have $1,200 in a savings account, and Matt has some money saved, too.

  “Ali. . .”

  “Please don’t start.” I can’t handle another one of these discussions.

  “Look, it’s not like we’re being irresponsible, okay? We’re trying to work it all out.”

  “Oh, really?” Mom asks. “Then why is Matt in Florida?”

  That gets me. “What does that have to
do with anything?”

  Mom doesn’t say anything, but when she stops the car at a light, she turns to me. She looks likes she’s about to cry. “I feel like I’m watching you jump off a cliff, and there’s nothing I can do to save you.”

  Chapter 19

  The next day, I walk over to Monica’s house. Julie and Steve aren’t coming back from their trip until tomorrow, but Kyle’s already left to go back to school. Otherwise, I wouldn’t go over. But when I ring the bell, Julie answers the door in one of her yoga outfits. “Monica’s in her room,” she says. She doesn’t smile. Her mouth is a thin stiff line. She looks like a completely different person.

  Monica is lying on her bed, listening to her stereo. Her eyes are red and puffy, the way they always get when she’s been crying.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “They came home early. Mom and Steve saw us kissing in the hallway, and they came unglued. Mom’s been lecturing me, and Kyle said his dad blew up.”

  “She’s probably worried you’ll end up like me.”

  Monica glances at me and looks away. “No,” she says, shaking her head, but I know I guessed right. “Get this: she asked me if we were sleeping together or just thinking about it.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Are you kidding? I didn’t tell her anything. If she thought I was sexually active, she would have a nuclear meltdown.”

  There’s a party that night at Greg Bartel’s house. His parents are out of town, and he invited a group of kids over to hang out.

  Monica and Greg are in the same criminal law class together, and Monica calls to see if I want to go. She can’t stand being in her house another minute.

  “No, thanks. I’m too tired,” I say. But the truth is, I don’t want to go. It’s hard to blend in when you’re almost eight months pregnant. I know everyone’s talking about me. I haven’t missed the long looks or the way everyone stops talking when I enter a room. There’s no way I’m going to put myself through that.

  Monica comes over the next morning after church. My parents and I had just gotten back ourselves, and we’re sitting around the kitchen table, eating cinnamon rolls we picked up at a bakery. Monica is quiet, but I figure it’s because her parents found out about her and Kyle.

  Later, my parents leave to go grocery shopping. “How’s it going?” I ask as soon as they’re out the door.

  “You have no idea. I called Kyle last night from Greg’s house. We’ve decided to cool it for a while—at least around our parents.”

  I help myself to another cinnamon roll and take a bite. Their strategy makes sense to me. And who knows? Maybe he is the one, the boyfriend she will actually like for more than a few weeks. After all, she’s declared undying love for this guy, and she’s never done that before.

  “Have you heard from Matt?” Monica says.

  “He’s not back yet.” I get up to pour us each a glass of milk.

  “Ali, if I know something. . . something that would hurt you. . . would you still want to know?”

  Something in her voice makes me stop. I know Monica too well. This is definitely not a hypothetical question. I just look at her. “What?”

  “Matt was at Greg’s party last night.”

  “Oh.” I flash freeze, and go numb, another layer of ice forming.

  Monica looks at me carefully. “That Lauren person was there, too,” she says.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “She was hanging all over him.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “Not at first. When I left, I asked him if you knew he was back in town. But I don’t think he heard me. He was pretty drunk.”

  I leave both glasses of milk on the counter and sit down.

  Monica looks at me worriedly. “Did I do the right thing? I couldn’t sleep all night thinking about it.”

  I try to smile, but it’s a lame effort. Sometimes the truth hurts. It really does. When Monica leaves, I call Matt, but no one answers, so I leave a message on the machine. He calls back later that afternoon.

  “Hey, I’m back,” he announces when I answer the phone.

  “I heard,” I say. A third layer of ice forms. I am Ice Queen.

  He doesn’t notice. “We got in last night, but it was too late to call, and I had to work this morning. This is the first chance I had to call.”

  He just flat-out lies to me, and it comes out so smoothly I can’t believe it. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Matt.”

  “What’s up with you?”

  “Monica saw you last night. That’s what’s up.”

  “It’s not what you think, Ali. Monica—”

  Click. I hang up. I don’t want to hear his lame excuses.

  I see Matt at school on Monday during second period study hall. He’s wearing a Mexican Baja pullover I’ve never seen before. It’s cream with blue stripes and makes him look very tan. I wish he didn’t look so good. I walk into class right when the bell rings, so there’s no time to talk. I can feel him watching me, but I ignore him, pretending I couldn’t care less if I ever talked to him again.

  I try reading Hamlet, at the same time keeping a close eye on Matt while he chews on his pencil and struggles with trig. “Why e’en so, and now my Lady Worm’s. . . knocked about the [mazard] with a sexton’s spade.” I read the same line over and over, fixating on “mazard,” wondering why Matt doesn’t slip me a note or try to get my attention. When the bell finally rings, I practically run down the hallway, but Matt catches up with me.

  “Ali, wait,” he says.

  I know I shouldn’t, but I do. Sometimes I’m an idiot.

  “Look,” he says, “it’s not what you—”

  “Matt! I’m soooo glad I ran into you,” says Lauren, touching his arm. “I need to borrow your trig notes. Do you mind?” She smiles, sweeps her hair to one side, and tilts her head sweetly to look at him.

  She’s wearing low-slung jeans and a tight white t-shirt with a sunflower to show off her fake tan. Her waist is so tiny. I can’t remember my waist ever being that tiny.

  “Uh. . . sure,” he says, glancing at me, then opening his backpack to look for the notes.

  “I’ve got to get to class,” I say.

  Lauren looks at me as if seeing me for the first time, and as if I’m as insignificant to her as a blade of grass. Matt doesn’t bother to introduce us. I walk away, wondering if Lauren knows I’m pregnant with his baby.

  I avoid Matt at lunchtime. I feel fat, sick, and ready to explode. I don’t want to see him, let alone talk with him. But after school, there he is, leaning against my mom’s car in the parking lot, waiting for me.

  “Do you mind?” I ask. He’s standing in front of the driver’s door.

  “Can we talk?”

  “What’s there to talk about?”

  “C’mon, Ali. You’re so mad you can’t see straight, and you haven’t even heard my side of the story.”

  I don’t want to fight. I really want to believe that it’s all just some misunderstanding. “Okay. Get in.”

  He climbs into the passenger side of the car, and I drive to a nearby park.

  “I want to know what happened Saturday night.”

  “Look, nothing happened,” he says. “She—”

  “Lauren?”

  “Yeah, Lauren. She was pretty drunk, and she was just talking to me.”

  “Monica says she was hanging all over you and that you were drunk, too.”

  “Okay, yes, we were both drinking, but she’s lonely, Ali. She just moved here, and she doesn’t have many friends. And. . . I told her I had a girlfriend.”

  “Does she know it’s me?” I’m starting to yell, but I can’t help it.

  “We didn’t get that far. Chill out. . . There’s no need to get hysterical.”

  “I am not hysterical! I just want to know what’s going on!”

  He shakes his head and sort of laughs. “Yeah, right,” he says.

  I take a deep breath and try to calm down.
“So you were drunk?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you sleep with her?” The thought of them together tears at me, but I have to know.

  “No, nothing like that.” He gives me a look and turns away. “Look, I may as well tell you. She kissed me. That’s when I told her I have a girlfriend.”

  I don’t want to hear any more. I start the car and pull out of the parking lot too fast.

  “I never took you for the jealous type,” he says.

  “I’m not jealous. But stop pretending that nothing’s going on. I’m not stupid.”

  “Look, Ali,” he says. “It’s just that. . . I got a little crazy Saturday night. I mean, with the baby. . . it’s all kind of overwhelming sometimes, you know? It’s a lot of responsibility.”

  “You’re such an asshole! This is not exactly nirvana for me, either. I’m eight months pregnant, I barely fit behind the desks at school, and now you’re playing these games!”

  He snorts and shakes his head. “I’m here, aren’t I? Any other guy would walk away.”

  We’re back at the school parking lot. I have no problem finding his car—Lauren is standing next to it. A layer of ice twists around my heart, but I’m not about to let it show. “Oh, there’s your girlfriend,” I say nonchalantly. I stop the car hard. Matt steps out and slams the door shut. I take off so fast he has to jump back so I don’t flatten his foot with my tire.

  Chapter 20

  I stop by Kelly’s apartment after school the next day to take her some books. The school district is arranging for a tutor to help her, and Ms. Connor asked if I could drop off her books. Matt and I aren’t speaking to one another. I’m trying to keep busy so I won’t have time to think about my so-called life, which is a mess.

  It’s 4:00 when I get there, but Kelly looks as if she hasn’t taken a shower yet. She’s wearing sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt, and glasses. I’ve never seen her in glasses.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, sitting next to her on the sofa. Erica is asleep in her infant seat.