Chapter 7

chapter 7

. . .

“ G ood morning, Josephine. What can I do for you?” Mrs. DeFasio says when I enter her office. I have met her once before, during my official school visit, but other than that I haven’t had a need to see her.

Her office is like all the others, with a desk, hard chairs for students to sit in, a small sofa, and a view of the campus bowl, where students hang out. On her walls, she has artwork of the beach, along with photos of her family.

That’s why I’m here, because of my growing family. I can’t keep my pregnancy a secret for much longer and I don’t want to be expelled from school or kicked out of my dorm room.

“Good morning.” I smile softly and sit down on the sofa. She joins me. It’s funny how you never think you need a guidance counselor, until you have no idea what you’re doing with your life. Yet, here I am, pregnant, feeling rather depressed, and muddling my way through classes.

Clearing my throat, I cross my arms over my mid-section. It’s a habit I’ve developed since I started showing. But then I tell myself I’m here for help, and I can’t hide this anymore.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, holding her gaze. Her eyes do nothing. They don’t widen in shock or turn to slits like most people who tend to judge me. “It happened before I started school and . . .” I trail off because there’s nothing left to say.

“Anyway . . .” I rub my hands over my pants legs and look anywhere but at her. “I guess I’m here for some options.”

“Am I allowed to say congratulations?”

I shrug. Am I happy? Yes and no. It’s hard to explain it to people. I am keeping my baby, at least that’s what I say each morning when I wake up, but at night I start to question myself. How am I going to raise a child on my own? I know I have the support of Katelyn and Mason, and my parents. Mason’s as well. But support only goes so far. How long until Katelyn doesn’t want to hang out with me because I’ll have a baby, or Mason’s too busy. They’re too busy.

Mrs. DeFasio gets up and closes her door, giving us privacy. “All right,” she says. “What kind of options do you want to discuss?” She hands me a cup of water and sits down next to me.

“Do I have to leave school?” I ask, my voice breaking. It’s really the only thing keeping me going right now, aside from this baby.

She shakes her head. “No, not at all. I can help you manage your schedule around your due date and the birth,” she tells me. “And depending on what you do, there is on-campus housing. However, it’s mostly reserved for athletes. Don’t ask me why they tend to get all the privileges around here, but they do. Let me see what I can, and I’ll get back to you on it. When are you due?”

“June,” I tell her.

“I know this is going to be a sensitive question, but are you keeping the baby?”

I nod, and then shrug. “I think so. I go back and forth with what I should do.”

Mrs. DeFasio puts her hand on mine. “Whatever you do, don’t sign any paperwork until someone else has looked it over. I have a lawyer friend who can read the contract for you. There are a lot of scammers out there and I don’t want you making a decision you’re not comfortable with.”

“Thank you,” I say as my eyes water. “I thought this would be a lot harder.”

“It doesn’t need to be. Babies happen. This doesn’t mean you have to give up your life.”

We stand at the same time, and I’m compelled to give her a hug. She holds me tightly and rubs her hand down my back.

“Let’s meet weekly, just to check in. And I’ll get to work on the housing side of things. What I need from you is to keep your grades up and think about your future and what you want to do. I don’t know where things stand with the father, but we do offer a parenting class at night. It might behoove you to take it.”

“Thank you, I will.”

I take Mrs. DeFasio’s words to heart, and then one stings and makes me wonder if the Westburys will try to take my baby away from me. Surely, I’m a better fit than they are for parenting, especially considering Bianca is drunk most of the time and Sterling . . . well, he’s just a giant piece of dog turd. I’ll never understand how someone can be so disgusting to others.

On my way into the library, a fellow student hands me a flyer. I take it and stuff it into my bag and make my way to the fourth floor where I have rented a private room to study in. Mason spends a lot of his free time in mine and Katelyn’s room, and I know it’s because they’re watching me, waiting for me to collapse and crumble into a heap on the floor. I love them, but they hover a bit too much.

Am I depressed? Yes.

Do I spend an ungodly amount of time crying? Yes.

Did my life as I know it fall apart? Yes.

I feel like Liam died, and I need to mourn him and the relationship we had. With Katelyn and Mason always around, I can’t do that. Deep down, I know things will be okay. They’ll get better with time, but time is infinite, and right now I just need to move through life at my own pace. As long as I eat, drink, sleep, and take my prenatal vitamins, I should be okay.

Never fine.

Just okay.

The private study rooms at the library are small like a cubicle, but with a door. The two best parts about the door is you can lock it and pull the shade down. I do both. I sit down, set my bag on the desk, and use it as a pillow. I need a nap. Ten, twenty, or thirty minutes, I don’t care. I need the peace and quiet from the noise in my mind.

Only, sleep evades because my brain can’t shut off. I have assignments due, a test, a growing baby in my belly, a missing ex, and life in general weighing heavily on me.

I dig through my bag and pull my books out. On top of the pile is the flyer the kid out front handed to me, advertising a new and upcoming artist who has a new hit out on the radio.

YOU’RE ALL INVITED TO LIAM PAGE’S LISTENING PARTY!

Liam Page Westbury.

Liam stares back at me.

The father of my baby.

He left me for a whole other life.

Now, it all makes sense. The nights he’d play his guitar or when he played the song he put on the tape—that last night in his truck. I try to remember the song, but I can’t. At the time, I liked it and figured he planned to give me the tape. But he hadn’t. He took it with him. Probably thinking I didn’t care.

He didn’t give me a chance to care. Or did he?

“ There’s more to life than football, Jojo. ”

He quit football to become a musician and didn’t even give me chance to be with him.

Why?

Because when he came to tell you, all you wanted to do was call his coach.

I don’t know whether to cry or scream right now, but I do know, I can’t compete. The guy on this flyer, looking moody and smoking hot, isn’t the guy who I fell in love with. Who loved me back.

He’s not my Liam.

Now that I’ve seen the flyer, the tears are back. It’s not that they ever leave, but sometimes they subside long enough for me to function as humanely as possible. I pack my things, fold the flyer and stick it into the pocket of my bag, and leave. On my way out, I pass the job board and take a few notices with me. I’m going to need a job. I don’t care if I have to serve coffee for the next four years, I need something that’s going to help support my child.

On my way back to my dorm, I manage to avoid every other student trying to hand me a flyer for the listening party. I can’t stop the thoughts, the memories. They’re all there whether I want them to be or not.

So is his face.

And his name.

As fast as my body allows, I make my way to the third floor. Thankfully, it’s only Katelyn in there, which is rare these days. She eyes me, and before I can tell her about the flyer, the door bursts open and Mason’s standing there, chest heaving.

“Have you heard from Liam?” he asks me in an accusatory tone. As if I’d hide the fact that Liam called.

“You know I haven’t.” I sit down and he hands me the same flyer folded in my backpack. I act shocked because it’s easier than explaining I found out a half hour prior and didn’t run and tell them. Sometimes, I need to digest news on my own.

“What’s this?” Katelyn asks as she takes the flyer from me.

“One of those radio kids handed it to me, and then someone said she’s heard his song, and it’s amazing,” Mason says as he shakes his head. “This is some guy using Liam’s likeness, right? Our Liam doesn’t sing.”

Except he does.

I lean forward and cover my face with my hands. Doing everything I can to keep the tears at bay, but it’s useless. I sit up and push my hair from my face. “I think it’s him.”

“Why would you think that?” Mason asks, confusion written all over his face. He didn’t know Liam either. None of us truly did.

“Don’t snap at her, Mason,” Katelyn says, even though I didn’t take his question that way.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Josie, sweetie. Do you know something?” Katelyn uses her mom tone. It’s something she’s developed over the past handful of months.

“I don’t know,” I say as I stand and pace. I look at the flyer and while I know it’s my Liam, I don’t understand any of it. When I start to cry, they both come toward me. I hold my hands up. “I’m okay.”

Taking a deep breath, I tell them what I know. “Liam had a guitar in his room, and on the rare occasion I was there, he’d play it for a minute or two. The day he left for Texas, we were sitting in his truck, listening to one of the mix tapes he made, and a song came on. It was something I hadn’t heard before, and I really liked it.” Like really liked it.

“I asked who it was by, and he said it was his, that he wrote it and was the one singing. I sat there trying to process the words, Liam, and everything going on around us.” I shake my head. “I never told him that I liked the song or that I thought his voice was beautiful. I told him he was going to move mountains in Texas, and he said, ‘there’s more to life than football, JoJo.’”

Again, I look at the flyer and my heart breaks. Not only for myself, but for Liam and our unborn child. How much of this could’ve been avoided if I had listened? Truly listened to him?

“I guess that was his way of telling me he wasn’t happy.” A sob escapes and I cover my mouth. Katelyn rushes to me and wraps me in her embrace.

“I should’ve listened to him,” I cry into her shoulder. “I should’ve been prouder and told him how he could do anything he put his mind to. If I had, we’d be together right now.” I firmly believe this. I rest my hand on my growing belly and feel my child kick. “He’d know about his child.”

“He never told me,” Mason says quietly.

“He didn’t tell any of us,” Katelyn says. “I would’ve listened.”

I shake my head. “He tried, and I brushed him off.”

“You can’t blame yourself, sweetie.” Katelyn pulls me into another hug. “Liam will be back,” she says this so confidently. “He’ll come back, and you’ll be a family.”

I step away, needing some space, and set the flyer down on the desk. I don’t need the reminder of something I lost, staring at me anymore.