As book two begins to draw to a close, Sam considers his options. Joan makes an impassioned plea for her child. She ponders the potential problems of being a parent at such a tender age.

Chapter 21

Showdown

I slept fitfully all night long. I awoke several times to reality during the night and had a very difficult time trying to get back to sleep. Finally, I gave up and dragged myself off of my makeshift bed. Lying there served no useful purpose. I never thought I could feel for another human being what I felt for the unborn fetus in Sam’s womb.

I just had to find some way to protect that baby. This wasn’t a hypothetical woman facing the right to choose question; this was my baby growing in the body of another and me having no rights whatsoever with regard to its well-being. I loved Sam with all my heart but if need be I’d lock him away until the baby could be safely removed from his body. Did that make me a bad person? Why couldn’t I simply make him see how important this life was not just to all of us, but to the baby herself? No, I didn’t want to join any right to life protest marches. As insane as it sounds, I still believe in the right to choose: just don’t choose for me.

The sun was just starting to poke its head over the ocean as I made my way to the beach. The last time I’d been here at this hour was with Darla on her birthday. That whole experience seemed like a dream to me now. Maybe I could discuss all of this with Darla? No, bad idea, odds are that no one else in the family would want me discussing this with anyone. I really needed some help with this and I didn’t see any forthcoming from any quarter.

I began wondering if Sam upon finding out "she".. ok, damn it.. she.. for purposes of this discussion. I just look like a crazy person referring to Sam as "he." Anyway, I began wondering and worrying how much of a snap decision an abortion would be. Could she just take one of those "morning after pills" and forget about it? Was it already too late for that? Would I have any opportunity to dissuade her from terminating the pregnancy? Was there another way out? Could Mom or even Aunt Alice carry the baby to term if Sam didn’t want to?

This was human life we were talking about here. Far too important to end without serious consideration. OK, so from my perspective there were only two good reasons for an abortion: 1) the fetus was damaged beyond ability to have a normal life, or 2) the fetus was a threat to the mother. Terminating a pregnancy under such circumstances actually made some sense to me. Still, I had no vote in the upcoming decision; something so important to me. Something that would have a profound effect on my life and I had absolutely no say in it one way or the other. It just didn’t seem right somehow.

I found myself feeling so strongly about the issue that I’d even promise Sam "she’d" never have to see the baby again once it was born. Just let the poor thing live. I’d never known anyone who had an abortion before. Or, if I did, they certainly weren’t talking about it. I’d never been a religious person, but I found myself praying; praying for a life that didn’t seem to have a ghost of a chance at this point in time.

I sat there with my head buried in my arms listening to the sounds of nature all around me. I began rocking back and forth and sobbing uncontrollably. I felt as if I was losing my mind. How could I make anyone see my point of view if I couldn’t present myself rationally? I still couldn’t get over the depth of my feelings for this unborn mass of cell tissue. This large conglomeration of cells incapable of thought or movement had me ready to commit any act short of murder to insure its safety. My tears continued flowing in a futile attempt to wash away the pain.

"You know, sitting here on the beach crying isn’t going to change anything," the voice behind me said. "If you’re serious about saving the baby’s life then you’d better get off your whiny ass and get on home." I looked around rapidly and saw no one. Was I suffering from auditory hallucinations? "I’m over here Joan," Aunt Melissa’s voice said clearly. "I want to tell you a story," she said as she sat down next to me. The lady certainly knew how to find me, that’s for sure.

"Once upon a time there was a fifteen year-old girl who thought she was in love. She began doing things that she shouldn’t have, taking no heed or responsibility for her actions. The only thing that mattered was her love. Your mother is young for having a child your age, wouldn’t you agree?" She asked me rhetorically. "Didn’t you ever wonder how her sister who was only two years older had a daughter who was eight years older than yourself?"

I quickly did the math in my head. So, Aunt Melissa had been pregnant with my cousin when she was but fifteen years old. "But Aunt Melissa, how can I protect the baby? I have no rights, no legal standing whatsoever. I certainly didn’t want things to turn out this way, but I can’t see turning my back on the responsibility of it all. Help me to make them see what’s right, I beg of you…"

"Joan, sometimes, not often but sometimes, I wonder how different my life would have been if Melissa hadn’t been born. And yes, your Uncle Harry is Melissa’s father. We were married two weeks before Melissa’s birth. Didn’t you ever wonder why you’ve never seen any of my wedding photos? He was eighteen, I’d just turned sixteen and we gave birth to the most magnificent child the world has ever known, present company excepted," she said and laughed.

"It’s just not fair. If that baby were growing inside of me we wouldn’t be having this discussion. We’d be planning for its future." I had an inkling of what an incredible ordeal this must be for Sam, but I could never imagine "getting rid of" the baby. "Come on Aunt Melissa," I said rising to my feet. "We’ve got an abortion to stop!"

"That’s my girl!" She said to me as she put her arm around me and walked me home. When we arrived home Aunt Mel escorted me up to my bedroom. She insisted that I lay down for awhile. She promised me that nothing would happen without my knowledge at least. I’d been sleeping on the floor for so long I felt like I was lying on a cloud. Aunt Melissa leaned over to give me a hug and I squeezed her so tight for a moment I was afraid I was going to break her.

She could tell that I was too wound up to fall asleep. She lay beside me and gently stroked my hair while whispering over and over that everything was going to be all right. After a time, I was too tired to fight: I believed her. Sleep came swiftly after that.

I awoke instantaneously around noon. No one had interrupted my sleep so I assumed that nothing had happened yet. Still, the house was a bit too quiet. I literally ran down the stairs. Mom and Aunt Melissa were sitting at the kitchen table. Was today a holiday and no one had informed me? "Good, you’re up." This from Mom. "Go and get dressed, we’re all going to the doctor’s in a wee bit." I ran back upstairs. My stomach felt like it had a thousand pound weight hidden inside it. I washed my face in the sink and got dressed.

I’m not sure how they beat me, but Mom and Aunt Melissa were all ready to go when I came downstairs. I started thinking that maybe if Aunt Mel told Sam her story that she’d see what a fantastic person my cousin was and put any thoughts of terminating the pregnancy aside. I was grasping at straws.

We all piled into Mom’s car and made the short drive to the medical center. Sam and I went up to the counter together to sign in and the receptionist assumed that the appointment was for me. On an otherwise bleak day, that made us smile. Aunt Alice looked as I had before I went back to bed. Mom didn’t look much better. For some reason Mom and her sister were holding hands.

The five of us sat there for close to an hour. It was as if we were waiting for the axe to fall. Finally the doctor’s assistant came into the waiting room to secure the patient. Her jaw dropped slightly when she realized that Sam was indeed the patient. Aunt Alice and Mom attempted to join her, but were told that there would be a consultation afterwards. Sam seemed absolutely petrified as he was escorted away.

It must have been an hour later when Dr. Linda Feingold came out and invited us all into her office. The silence was deafening. Dr. Feingold had some particularly nasty looks for me. I guessed that Sam had told her about our relationship. "I take it you’re the father," she said pointing at me. I did my best to turn invisible in the stiff-backed leather chair. It didn’t work. I looked over at Sam whose eyes were focused on his shoelaces. I cleared my throat several times in an effort to find my voice. Just as I was about to speak, the good doctor cut me off.

"It seems that Sam is indeed pregnant," she said and stopped. It was as though she was waiting for someone to protest: no one did. "There’s more," she went on. More, what more could there possibly be, I wondered? After the slight commotion that had erupted died down, the doctor continued. "She’s not only pregnant, she’s pregnant with twins." I knew it wasn’t a joyous occasion, but my heart soared. My baby, no, my babies were alive and growing inside of Sam. Aunt Melissa’s hand began gently massaging my back. The mouths of all in attendance with the exception of Sam’s and the good doctor’s were open and ready, as if to receive a spoonful of some dreaded medicine.

When she saw that composure had finally been restored, the doctor continued. "The question now is, what are we going to do about it?" My heart sank: deep into the depths of despair.

"Do you anticipate any complications from the pregnancy?" This from Aunt Melissa who was rapidly turning into my favorite person on the face of the earth.

"Aside from her youth, there is no reason why Sam shouldn’t give birth to two perfectly healthy babies. I’ve been following Sam’s baseball career. It seems a shame that it should have to end this way. With a very simple procedure we can end this problem now." An unexpected "NO!" escaped from my lips. What kind of a doctor was this? "I’ll leave you alone to discuss the situation," said the doctor as she made her way out of the office.

I just wanted to curl up and die. But, I couldn’t, my babies’ lives were at stake. "Sam, isn’t there some way we can do this?" I begged helplessly. I noticed that she wasn’t moved by my plea. "Sam, those are OUR babies in there. They are a part of us. Sure, it’s a shame that it had to happen now, but how many people try their whole lives and never manage to have children at all? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ll never be able to give birth to your babies. I wish with every fiber of my being that that wasn’t so, but there’s nothing I can do to change it."

"We can make this work somehow. I’ll care for them as much as humanly possible. It won’t interfere with your baseball career, I promise! Please Sam! Not just for me or for you, but for them." There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that if she ever loved me in the least, she wouldn’t even consider aborting our babies. And now the potential crime had doubled in magnitude. "Please Sam! I’ll do anything. Please don’t hurt the babies…" I sobbed uncontrollably.

Sam’s own eyes filled with tears as I made my impassioned plea. I just wanted to hug him, to hold him, to rub his belly till he purred with delight. The three adults in attendance remained stonily silent. "You know Sam, I had just turned sixteen when I gave birth to my daughter," Aunt Melissa announced. "It was the proudest day of my life." she finished.

Aunt Alice finally found her voice. "What do you want to do Sam?" She asked her.

Sam eyed me sadly. I turned to stone as I readied myself to hear the most painful words imaginable. I tried to look up at him, but I couldn’t focus at all. Anyone walking into the room would assume that the doctor had just told me that I had some terminal illness. "SAM!" I screamed as the others restrained me.

"I don’t know!" He uttered at last. Those three words. The sweetest words I’d ever heard in my life. Not a total affirmation, but a beginning. Could I really be a parent to a couple of needy babies? I was immediately thankful for the way I’d been raised. Thank God, I hadn’t been pampered. I had a pretty good idea of the difficulties involved in raising a pair of screaming tykes. I also knew that there wasn’t anything else in this world that I’d rather do.

"Sam, Mom and I will sign whatever you like that says we’ll take care of the twins once they’re born," I said without consulting her. I was beyond amazed that Mom looked at me with something like pride in her eyes. She remained silent.

I knew this wasn’t a game. I knew there were dire consequences. Still, nothing on this earth could have prevented me from rising to the challenge of caring for my children. For just a moment I realized that my sister would be only a few months older than her nieces and/or nephews. I was filled with a strength that I still can’t fathom. I slowly rose from my chair and walked silently over to Sam.

I grabbed his head in my arms and cradled him. I rocked him gently to and fro and cooed at him softly. This was my home. Sam and the babies were my life. Nothing else on God’s green earth mattered. We remained in that position until Dr. Feingold returned.

"Doctor, will Sam have to give up baseball for now?" I asked trying to take control of the situation. She looked at me as if she was disappointed. Like, who the hell was I to be involved in any of this. I was just a kid, and if truth be told it was my fault we were here in the first place. Her wicked thoughts bounced off of me like foam rubber off of a concrete surface. I waited for her actual words.

"Sam’s about eight weeks along now," the Doctor began. "But for her bouts with nausea, she seems remarkably healthy. There’s no reason she can’t finish out the rest of the season," she finished. For some reason I found myself not trusting the Doctor’s proclamation. Was she secretly hoping that Sam would suffer a spontaneous miscarriage? I knew those were horrible thoughts to be harboring. This person was a medical doctor after all. She’d sworn to "do no harm" as part of her oath.

"We’d like to take some time to consider our actions," I said speaking for the group. Why did this doctor dislike me so? What had I done to her? Despite my appearance I’m sure she viewed me as just another screwed-up boy. We made an appointment for the same time next week. Mom paid the bill telling me she hoped it was covered under the insurance plan. I laughed at that and told her that I’d take care of it if it wasn’t.

"I’m not breast-feeding them," Sam said as we piled into the car. That one statement sent me over the moon! I hugged him till I thought my arms were going to fall off.

"I don’t guess you two need to worry about using protection from now on," Aunt Melissa said and laughed. I thought for a second about punching Aunt Melissa in the shoulder but realized before I could begin that it would be inappropriate. The next statement belonged to Aunt Alice.

"I’m going to be a Grand Mother," she sighed sorrowfully. Everyone in the car erupted in laughter including Sam. Thankfully he sat next to me on the way home. His mood seemed to have lightened. I hate to be cynical, but I believe it was due to the fact that Dr. Feingold told him he wouldn’t have to quit baseball.

We stopped at the pancake house for lunch. The ladies started asking for the smoking section when I nixed that idea. No one was going to be smoking around my babies! Sam ate like a moose. To test out his strange cravings he ordered up some dill pickles with his pancakes. He didn’t get sick from the experience, though I felt like barfing watching him eat that insane combination of food.

We arrived home and once again, I was exhausted. "You’d better get all the sleep you can now," Aunt Alice offered up to the laughter of everyone but Sam and myself. I was somewhat amazed and befuddled by the parental attitude, but grateful for it nonetheless. I hugged Sam close and asked him if he’d like to go for a walk. We had some things to discuss and I didn’t want to talk about them in front of everyone. Sam demurred and told me we could talk about it all tomorrow.

My mind was assaulted by a variety of inanities. Joan and Samantha if they were girls. John and Samuel if they were boys. If one of each, why Joan and Samuel, of course. I seriously felt like screaming from the rooftops! Nothing more important had ever happened to me in my brief life. I couldn’t imagine anything more important ever occurring.

We walked into the house and then I remembered: it was Wednesday, I had band practice. Was I going to have to give all this up? Were my dreams of stardom quelled before ever becoming airborne? This was the one thing in my life I was doing for me. Was I supposed to sacrifice everything?

Wait a minute: Sam, he was giving up everything. Wait a minute: he wasn’t giving up baseball. Besides, he’d never held a job a day in his life. I could feel the resentment building. All in all, these children were MY responsibility. Did this mean I had to quit the band? Would I be misleading Darla and Fred if I just went along only to drop out later? There was no need for math wizardry to figure that one out. I’d have to tell them.

But, tell them how? Fred believed I was female. Should I tell him I’m pregnant? He’d probably send me walking upon hearing the news. Should I tell him that I was really a "boy?" What would he think of me then? Probably less than if he thought I was a pregnant fourteen year old. With all that had happened today, I forgot to take my pills. I wasn’t usually so forgetful about stuff. Was I forgetting on purpose?

I knew that those pills were my one link to sanity. I went into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. I’d seen no benefit from the two milligrams of estrogen I’d been taking thus far. Was it always going to be this way? Was I simply chasing some elusive dream? Hell, the love of my life was pregnant with my babies. I was jealous beyond verbal description.

I took my pills but, as I swallowed them down I determined to secure a more reasonable prescription for myself. This limited dosage would never affect the changes that I needed deep within my being.

I saw that Aunt Melissa wasn’t in my room as I passed by. I logged onto my computer and placed an order for an appropriate dosage of hormones. I knew I needed that debit card for something! I can’t tell you how many times I viewed the page that said I was taking a one-quarter dose of estrogen. My children needed a mother: I’d been knowingly elected.

I felt better as I descended the stairs. Things were falling into place all around me. Maybe not as I’d wanted them to, but slowly and surely sense was being made of my universe…

Chapter 22

Be My Baby

The rest of the afternoon sped by. I hadn’t even called Darla to ask her if we had a ride. I decided that I’d better. Cause if Aunt Vivian wasn’t taking us, then I’d better get my fanny on my bicycle.

"Darla?" I asked when the phone was picked up. "Do we have a ride to practice this evening?" I followed.

"Practice? What practice?" She said and waited for me to get all upset before bursting into laughter. "Mom and I will be over in about fifteen minutes. You’d better be ready," she said and hung up the phone.

The thought of making myself pretty for Fred didn’t even occur to me. OK, so I washed my face, put on my makeup and put a few flips in my hair. But, I pretty much did that all the time anymore. This was nothing special.

Fifteen minutes later I was waiting by the front door for them to arrive. I couldn’t help myself. No sooner was I in the car and I blurted out. "This can’t go any farther, but I’m going to be a mother."

"WHAT!!!" Darla screamed.

I went on to explain the entire situation to the both of them as we rode towards Fred’s. "OK, so technically, I’m going to be a father," I finished. Aunt Vivian remained silent in the front seat. I was really anxious to hear her opinion. "Aunt Viv, what do you think?" I asked pleadingly.

"You’re going to have to give me some time to consider all of this," she said and went back into quiet mode. Darla was so excited she seemed about to burst. If it wasn’t for the fact that she couldn’t get pregnant, I’m pretty sure that Aunt Viv would have persuaded her not to be my friend anymore.

We arrived at Fred’s and exited the vehicle. Aunt Viv told us she would be back at nine-thirty. Darla swore that she wouldn’t mention a word to Fred. I knew I had to tell him something, but what? Would I rather leave the "band" cause I was pregnant, or would I rather leave cause I was going to be a father and had no time for such frivolities. I had to tell him something. My mind kept flipping back and forth as we made our way into his basement.

"Fred?" I started as I began to set up, "we have to talk," I continued as I plugged my guitar in. A look of total confusion swept over his face. Could I tell him the truth? I knew that I couldn’t. I wasn’t sure what would hurt me more, Fred throwing me out of the band cause I was pregnant and soon to give birth, or because I was a boy "pretending" to be a girl. My heart grew heavy as I grappled for words.

In the final analysis, I went with the truth. "Fred, I’m afraid that I can’t do this anymore." His look told me he had no idea what I was going on about. I couldn’t force another word from my mouth. Darla came over and put her arm around me. Somehow, that gave me strength. "Fred, I’m going to be a parent" ( I hedged). "I’m not sure if I’m going to have the time to devote to a rock-and-roll band," I finished. Darla wrapped both arms around me as I broke down in tears. Fred meanwhile remained silent. He wasn’t quite sure just what to make of any of this.

"Are you telling me you’re pregnant?" he asked at last. I so wanted to tell him everything. My feelings for this guy were somewhere beyond my comprehension. I could tell that he was upset. I wasn’t into guys, was I? He seemed like a lost injured puppy that needed saving. I wished that I could utter a few words to make it all better. Finally, I had to own up to who I was and what my situation was.

"Fred, I am fourteen years old. But, I’m going to be a father and I’m not sure if I’ll have the time to devote to a proper rock and roll band." My statement hung in the air like a lead balloon. Darla rubbed my back like I was the fifth runner up in the "maid of the mist" contest. Did she secretly want to get rid of me? A startling bass note escaped from his instrument. We all jumped. Silence ensued.

"Joan, I’m disappointed," he began. "Yes, I’ve always known that you were a boy." How did he know that? Did Darla tell him? "If I didn’t think you had the goods, I wouldn’t have bothered with you at all," he continued. OK, so I wasn’t a genetic girl. Still, I was every bit as talented as "the" Stevie Nicks; at least I felt that I was in my heart.

Fred came over and wrapped his arms around me. I was beyond confused. I loved Sam with all that was in my heart and I loved my children to be even more. Yet, I had feelings for this strange boy. I knew I couldn’t stay here with them. Darla eyed me jealously. Could I lose myself in Fred’s embrace? Yeah, I could. Could I allow myself to become lost in such a way; no I couldn’t. I felt so dirty, so confused.

"I’m sorry Fred," I said as I began putting my guitar back in its case. I thought Darla would join me, but she simply stood by and watched while I put my guitar away. I’d probably been right about her all along, I mused as I packed up my equipment. Damn, Darla too? I made my way to the stairs and began ascending them unimpeded.

I sat down on his front steps and buried my head in my hands. I tried desperately to cry but no tears were forthcoming. Perhaps I was all cried out? Just as I was about to begin the long journey home, Fred appeared. "Come on back downstairs Joan," he begged. "I don’t have anything else planned for the evening anyway."

I sat there for a few minutes considering my options. Sadly, I didn’t have many. I could go back downstairs to sing and play, or I could begin the long quiet journey home. He waited patiently for me to make up my mind. As I stood up and turned around to go back inside he grabbed me and kissed me. My knees nearly collapsed from his kiss. Rather than being repulsed, I waited expectantly for what was going to happen next. "Come on, let’s go and play a few tunes," he summoned me.

Before I knew it I was back in the basement. Darla seemed oblivious to everything that was going on. I smiled at her as I removed my guitar from its case. At least I knew now where I stood with her. I trusted her to not totally fuck me over as long as she was within my eyesight. That realization alone hurt me, and hurt me big-time. I used one of the many electronic tuners that Fred had lying around and put my instrument in perfect tune.

We began with "Dreams." "Thunder only happens when it’s raining,, players only love you when they’re playing." It’s funny, I sang that song with every fiber of my being but when I was finished I found that my focus had been on Darla and not anyone else. It was she that evinced all the emotions that I was capable of expressing.

Fred handed me the bass. OK, so it was a cheap one. It made no difference to me. I plucked a few notes and heard the gut wrenching sorrowful notes emitted and knew that the instrument was made for me. He began playing a tune that would make the angels cry. I wished that the words existed that would express the misery that I felt as those notes assaulted my brain.

I focused on the root of the chord he was playing. My plunking fit perfectly. Darla added a death march for percussion. Soon, Fred was singing: "The world was on fire and no one could save me but you." I knew this song. I’d never felt the total sadness of it before now. We finished up and Fred played the original by Chris Isaak. It didn’t take long for Darla and I to perfect the harmonies: ‘this world is only gonna break your heart.’

I almost felt like I was walking in a dream. I had no idea that he had such a melodious or deep voice. We tried the tune again. I really felt it this time and by the end I was a blubbering mess. When he sang the last line, I almost collapsed: "nobody loves no one," and then his fingers picked away the major chord string by string. I felt a strange sense of "up-lifting." It was as though he was singing to me. I had to shake myself repeatedly before I realized that I was an integral part of the sound that had emanated from the speakers.

The song ended and I found myself unable to resist. I put down the bass and ran over to him and gave him the biggest of hugs. For the first time in my life, I took the initiative and kissed a boy. I took the song to heart and told him not to worry, that I’d always love him. This was a moment spent on another plane of existence. Finally we disengaged from our embrace and I noticed that Darla was wearing a look that said "get out of my way or you’re a dead person."

I still heard the echo of those soulful chords struck note-by-note attacking my brain. It was perhaps the saddest song I’d ever heard. The lyrics kept assaulting my sensibilities. "strange what desire will make foolish people do." I knew exactly what the author was going on about. I then did a reality check. The author of that tune was Chris Isaak. He was a major hunk. He could have (most likely) any woman he set his sights on. I doubted that he’d ever experienced the pain felt by us "mere mortals."

"Let’s call it a night," Fred said. We’d gone over the five songs that we now knew. I never felt more alive than when I was playing songs with those two. "There’s a battle of the bands at St. Giuseppe’s in a few weeks. What say I enter us?" He added. A battle of the bands? Hell my largest audience heretofore had been the large accumulation of gulls on the beach.

Darla still seemed a bit out of sorts. I was more than a bit worried about her. Darla and Fred? Hell, nothing would make me happier. OK, so I laughed to myself. Anything to get her away from Sarah! We ended the evening with what had become our anthem: "Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow!" I felt an extra tug of sadness as I packed my guitar away. Could I simply give up music? Just walk away. Fred made us promise to return for practice on Saturday. He had a few jobs lined up for us in a couple of weeks. Was he totally insane? Hell, we knew five songs.

I gave him a big hug and we kissed cooperatively. I worried for Darla as our lips parted. Darla was the sexiest lady I knew. It made no difference that she’d been born a boy. Damn, was life really supposed to be this hard?

I talked Fred into selling me a beginner’s bass and a practice amp for $75. I’d initially planned on offering him $100 but, I obviously needed the money more than he did. Darla helped me load my new acquisitions into the car. This time Aunt Viv didn’t say a word as we headed homeward.

We arrived at my house and I assured Aunt Vivian that I’d be over tomorrow evening. Then, it hit me. What had I done? Why was I kissing Fred? What if Sam found out? Oh my God! Was I just using Fred so he’d sell me stuff? I knew then and there that I had to call him. Darla seemed more than a bit annoyed with me when she left. What if she told Sam? My babies! I was shaken to my core. I had no idea why I was so attracted to Fred.

Hell, he made me feel safe and secure. He evoked feelings in me that I didn’t know were possible. But Sam! Sam was my life. We gave each other strength. He was the keeper of our babies. I went into panic mode as I dialed Fred’s number.

"Fred?" I asked when I heard someone pick up. "It’s me, Joan." I continued. "Fred what happened this evening can never happen again," I went on not sure of whom I was talking to. I heard him sigh and I went on. "Fred, I’ve been blessed with the greatest gift known to mankind. I’m going to be a parent! I’m sorry if you think I was leading you on. If you want all your equipment back, I’ll bring it over as soon as I can. Sam, that’s the babies’ mother, means everything to me. If she knew that I’d kissed you… several times… she’d probably go running off to an abortion clinic. There, I’ve given you a power over me that you didn’t have before. You can destroy my life with a phone call. Fred? I really am sorry. Under different circumstances…" my voice trailed off.

"Joan, it’s alright. It’s not me you have to worry about though. You’d better call Darla and make an impassioned plea to her sense of fair play. She seemed more than a bit put out by the way we were carrying on." So, he knew? Yet, he did nothing. Hell, it was all my fault. None of this would have ever happened but for me. Sam, while he could be a real jerk, would never betray me the way that I’d betrayed him. I couldn’t imagine feeling any lower than I already did. "Joan? It’s alright. And, I have to confess…{sighs}… I didn’t really know you were a boy. I just said that to save face."

"You really are talented. I love your voice, the way you play, your sense of timing. You’ve got all the goods. I really think we’ve got something here. And, this is just between you and me, Darla is adequate. Her playing is fair and her voice is fair. She’s simply adequate. You’d better call her up and square things away. Don’t worry about your babies. I’ll back you up 100% whatever you decide to do. Far more important than any personal relationship is our music. Didn’t you feel the way it all came alive for us when we were playing? There was a magic there. It’s a rare thing. I’ve only felt it once before in all the years I’ve been playing. I’ll see you on Saturday sweetheart," he said and hung up the phone.

Sweetheart, he called me sweetheart! But, I told him never to call me that again. Was it simply his way of letting me know that the rules to the game had been changed? Maybe he was trying to raise my ire? I finally realized; whatever a jerk he might be, Fred was my friend. It was closing in on ten o’clock as I called another friend.

"Darla?" I began tentatively. I could sense hesitation over the wire. "Darla, please don’t hang up," I begged. "Darl, I was wrong. I didn’t realize just how wrong till I put everything away inside the house. I just got off the phone with Fred. I didn’t realize that guys could be so understanding. He was a prince, plain and simple. I told him that what had transpired between us this evening could never happen again. He was accepting. He said that a band like ours happens very rarely (I embellished.) He said that the three of us made magic happen. He went on to say that nothing was more important to him than the band. If he hadn’t said what he said, I’d have quit. My heart, my life belongs to Sam and the twins. Darla, are we still friends?" I asked and waited.

Tears began streaming through the wire. "Joan! I’m sorry!" She said without explanation. I was too late. I should have called her first. How could she have called Sam in his fragile state? I took a deep breath.

"Sorry for what?" I asked as my insides rearranged themselves.

"I’m sorry I was such a bitch," she said. I nearly dropped the phone and fell on the floor. She hadn’t called Sam. Oh My God! I felt so lucky to be given another chance. I’d never let Sam down again. He was the father of my babies! My head was swimming!

"Darla! Darla! Darla! I’m the one that should be sorry. I’m not sure why what happened with Fred did happen. I guess a part of me feels like my life has been stolen from me. Another part, a far more important part is telling me that I’m the luckiest person ever to draw breath. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my children."

"Joan, I love you," she said. God, I hoped that it was true. I wonder if she knew how much I loved her? I began weeping into the phone. I’d been unfaithful to the only person that had ever truly loved me. Who was I? I was no longer sure as our conversation continued.

"Darla, I’d never have found myself without your help," I blurted out. "You mean the world to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it." I was free-associating. Darla was vitally important in my life. She’d helped me discover me. We truly were sisters. "Darla, I love you…"

She started getting hyper with me. Her enthusiasm for life made me laugh. "Do you think Fred would ever look at me romantically?" She asked at length.

"If he has a brain in his head, how could he not?" I replied honestly. Damn, she was putting aside things that she had witnessed hours earlier. This kind of friendship was a rarity. I loved her all the more for her words. "Darla, Fred’s a good guy, but it’s probably best if we just think of him as a band mate and nothing more," I finished.

She laughed playfully at my last retort. I wound up promising her that I’d quit if Fred attempted to recruit another drummer. Hell, Darla did such a magnificent job on the drums, I couldn’t believe that Fred would even think of auditioning others. "Promise me something?" I ended.

"What?" she asked

"Promise me that whatever happens that we’ll always be friends," I said at last. I could almost feel her smile through the wire. I felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

"I love you Joan, for better or for worse," she said at last. I gathered the significance of that last phrase. My spirit lit to the core. I doubted the words existed that would let me tell her what she meant to me. This strange person had turned my world upside down. I ached for her happiness almost as much as my own.

"Darla! I love you too!" I informed her. How could she possibly doubt it? We were inexorably linked. She would always be my sister. I would always care for her. Nothing, no one, would ever change that.

We talked for awhile longer about inanities and I finally made my exit. I had two painting jobs tomorrow and I had to get some sleep. My painting career had suddenly become much more than a part-time job. The money would be needed for my family.

"Joan?" Aunt Melissa began as I put the phone back in its cradle. "We have to talk" She finished. Now what? I thought as I exited my former bedroom. "Joan, I’m not sure if you’re aware of the role I played today at the doctor’s office." I was more than aware, I was beyond grateful. Did Aunt Melissa need some kind of recognition? Is that what this was about?

"Aunt Melissa, it’s late and I’m pretty tired," I began. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t going to be put off so easily. "I do have TWO jobs tomorrow," I continued.

"Joan, you do want those babies, don’t you?" She began. Did I want my babies? How could she even ask such a question? I stood up as straight and tall as I could before her. I’m sure she could tell that I’d have demolished her from this existence if she asked such a question again. I was furious. Strange, I’d never felt such an outpouring of emotions about anything before. I could have easily sliced her and diced her and put her in the produce bin.

"Joan, you do realize that Sam’s in a very fragile state?" She continued. Like I didn’t know that! Tell me something that I don’t know. I knew in my heart that Aunt Mel was trying to be helpful. It made me love her all the more. In many ways I was just a kid. In more than a few other ways I felt timeless. Like I’d been alive forever. I was safe: my love was safe; my babies were safe. Nothing else in this world mattered to me.

"Aunt Melissa," I started. "I do realize that I’m the luckiest person in the universe," I finished. "The love of my life is pregnant with my children! I realize the significance and the import of all that. No one on this planet deserves to be as happy as I’m feeling at this very moment."

She hugged me tight. We began swaying to and fro in the air. "Child, poor child," she muttered repeatedly. "This could be the greatest thing that ever happened to someone, or it could be the ultimate disaster," she said at last.

I couldn’t imagine how the birth of my babies could be anything other than a blessed event. Yes, I knew it wouldn’t be any walk in the park. The overwhelming sense of responsibility would be difficult, to say the least. These were "my" children: mine! No harm would ever come to them. I hugged her tighter. Perhaps she was in need of reassurance? I only knew that I loved this woman. I hated that fate had kept us apart. I wished that she’d stay around and be a part of all of our lives forever.

"Aunt Melissa, I have been blessed by the Gods. I have abilities and talents that will see me through this lifetime. I am to be a parent to two children. My life up until now has been a great introduction for what is to come. If I am overwhelmed with anything, it is with joy. No one should be as happy as I am right now. It’s more than most could bear." The pressure I was exerting ceased. I slowly began to crumble in her embrace.

Her tears began to flow as she hugged me tighter. In my mind I was begging her to stay. I knew that we all needed her here as a stabilizing force. How could I make her see just how important she was in all of our lives?

Aunt Melissa kissed me gently once above each eyebrow. I’d have deferred to her wisdom had she requested anything of me. It’s to her credit that she didn’t. Her only desire was for our happiness. I knew that I’d try anything to keep her here with us. This woman who had waltzed into our lives a few short weeks ago seemed to have all the answers. Or, if not the answers, the wherewithal to gather them.

We held each other in close embrace for awhile longer. Finally, she marched me down to my "bedroom." "Joan, I am beyond blessed to have you for a niece. I’ll do everything in my power to see that it all turns out for the good." She said and made her way gingerly from my room.

It felt like a permanent smile had been etched in my face. I set my alarm clock and attempted to close my eyes. So many thoughts were pervading my spirit. Sam? Darla? Fred? and yes, even Aunt Melissa. Mom and Aunt Alice were always there, no extraneous thoughts required. But most of all my mind kept turning back to the twins. TWINS! I ran through dozens of possible life scenarios in a matter of moments.

I’d never prayed before letting my thoughts drift off. I found myself thanking God for all the gifts she had bestowed upon me. I felt truly blessed as I drifted off to sleep…