He will not crush the weakest reed
or put out a flickering candle.
-Isaiah

Saturday, September 6, 2008

knocked Up

At 15.
A Nordic boy, new in town. Genius in math. Full ride to Tufts University
. Ended up toothless in a homeless shelter. We did it during my period on a shabby mattress in the garage. And hallways. Thought we couldn’t get pregnant because of the blood. Tried to throw myself downstairs and punch my swollen belly.
Way before Roe vs. Wade and The Day After pill.

Ruth caught me throwing up yellow puke.
“You’re pregnant.” She says.
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing?” I cry.
Indignant.
“You’ll never wear a white wedding dress.” Says she.
Arranged my own ship out. Late ‘60’s, you understand. Judy is a teacher with a toddler in Michigan.
Nanny kind of deal.
I finally tell Olman when I’m 5 months pregnant. Scared shitless.
Waited as long as I could. Hoping it would go away.
He calls us all in.
Offers: Marry my daughter then split. Give my grandchild a name.
Nordic boy and I huddle.
“ I have a great future before me.” He says. Scares the hell out of him.
Retreats.
We’re classmates at school now, while I’m planning. Waiting. Waiting and hanging on until I can’t anymore.
He starts dating the prom queen while I watch through the stage door. They cut out paper garlands together.
I named her Heidi after the Johanna Spyri novel.
Plus, it’s Nordic and all.
Then I gave her away.
A year or so later, I was 17, maybe. I knock on Nordic boy’s door at Tufts.
My drunken car salesman uncle needs a brand new ‘67 Corvette delivered to New Hampshire. Sure, I say.
I’m sitting on a freaking metal tsunami. All 5 lanes used up, rush hour traffic, just outside of Boston, a little rain drizzlin’ down. I pump the brakes, car freaks out, bumps along the guardrail for 500 yards, not hitting one other car. I wake up to a handsome paramedic and blood in my eyes. I must damn well have a purpose. Just for waking up.
So, A tall willowy redhead answers the door naked. Half of my head’s bandaged and my face is the size of a soccer ball.
“Is Nordic boy here?” I ask.
He walks up behind her, shocked. He thinks I’m Freddy Krueger.
Sure you can spend the night. He plays the host and offers me peanuts.
We get stoned. Redhead walks around naked all night.
Olman won’t pick me up.
I take the bus home the next day.

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