“Nothing is more difficult and therefore more precious than the ability to decide”
from my soul mate’s fortune cookie…or Napoleon Bonaparte whichever you prefer
I’ve had scares before that felt as real as this one. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew that you would take me seriously unlike previous boyfriends who vaguely noticed my anxiety. I made a joke about the possibility. I wasn’t prepared for the response. Your terror was immediate. So I calmed your spirits, told you it was normal – there is still time! – and tried to brush my fear off both of us.
That was on Thursday. It wasn’t until Sunday morning that the truth arrived.
I never thought I would look a positive pregnancy test in its two heartless blue-lined eyes at twenty. I never thought I would say in the same day “so glad we’ve been together a month” and “what are we going to do about this pregnancy?” I needed you in a way that I never thought I would need another person. I will never forget the way you held me upon hearing the news. I will never forget the way your tears revealed your terror and sadness. I will never forget the sound of you vomiting blood in the adjacent bathroom while I laid in my bed, unable to process anything but fear.
As the news set in, we took turns being strong. When you cried, I held you and I kissed away your tears. I tried to pull your muddled thoughts from your mind and listen carefully to your worries. When I cried, you were tearless and comforting. You held me and talked to me and loved me with a gentleness I will always remember.
The experience confirmed everything I suspected I knew about you. You have the most beautiful heart. You are the most gentle and loving boy I have ever had the pleasure of sharing company with. As horrible as the situation was, I knew without a doubt that you had my whole heart.
At first, I was sure I wanted to go through with the pregnancy. I was confident in my choice. I could make it work. I could do it with or without you, although I preferred your support. I was selfish. I was thinking of my responsibility, my life, what I had to do. I made the decision before even talking to you. I made the decision in our silent crying. I knew what path I was choosing.
Yet, there are parts of life that hide in the theoretical. That old dichotomy of right and wrong doesn’t always reveal itself in black and white costumes. No one knows what they will do until they stand before those two ugly winding paths. In this case, one road was indefinitely uphill. It appeared insurmountable. It was made of sand but scattered with medical bills, unfinished homework, job applications, and revised budget spreadsheets. I took a step towards it at first and my footing immediately slipped. I didn’t think sand to be a difficult material. I didn’t realize the level of challenge it promised. I saw sparse shrubbery where people unsuccessfully hid their the disappointed glances, their drinks of alcohol, their spring break smiles, their acceptance letters to grad school, and their cruel whispers – “This wasn’t what we expected from you, now was it?” Maybe there were joys along the way, but the sand covered them. I could see sparkles of gems, ones I knew I would uncover suddenly as my feet brushed them. Would those small finds be enough to keep me going, to keep US going? Just how far would we have to travel before the climb plateaued?
The other road was full of darkness. There were picketers outside, screaming about God, morality, and murder. The path was marked with drops of blood for the first couple miles, enough that I knew it would wet my toes and temporarily become part of my footprints. The trees held leaves that were clear like teardrops, constantly growing and dropping onto the path. The path was smoother but covered in foliage. It was hard to know what lay underneath that could cause me to trip, cause me to scare, cause me to pause to lick unexpected wounds. The road was uphill at the beginning, but it didn’t seem as steep as the other road. There were promises of another chance, more time to love him and to love myself. It’s just hard to see all of that because of the darkness, because the path seems impossible to charge, because the picketers are blocking the way. It’s likely they are hiding along the way, but it’s impossible to know how long their voices will last before their screams are reduced to a dull rasp, then complete silence.
So there I stood staring at my two options. I thought I had to do it alone, but I felt your warm hand in mine. I looked into your eyes and for a moment those paths disappeared. We decided to turn our backs to them and sat down to look at the stroll we had been taking together. We could see our initial fear and uncertainty transform into trust and communication. We saw our trite kisses turn into expressions of love, care, desire. We saw how fearful words turned into laughter and how careful smirks turned into cheshire cat smiles. We kept watching it unfold until all we could see was the tip of the other’s nose. It became clear then that this was a decision that was ours and ours alone. You squeezed my hand and told me that no matter what, you wanted to be with me. You would not leave me.
As our eyes met, I realized we begun this journey by choosing to trust each other first. We never chose to stumble upon this. We owed all our love, energy, and concern to each other, whatever that meant for the choice that lay ahead. We stood up together and turned back toward the diverging path. For us then, to love each other meant to face the darkness. It meant to wait for the sand mountain to seem more like a sandy beach. It meant to wait until the cruel comments turned into congratulations, until the job applications turned into paychecks, until the weight of the medical bills blew away in the wind. It would be hard, we had no illusions about that, but I could see the light in your eyes and I could feel your hand tucked assuredly in mine and that was enough to lead us forward.
