Outcasts in Love

The Other Side Of The Door

Library deadline day had come. Not only library deadline day, but school deadline day. The last day was here. I placed the book gently in the back of my battered, burgundy backpack and pulled the zip all the way, ready to hand it in.

As I brushed my teeth, preparing for the day ahead, I heard the most blood-curdling scream from downstairs, shortly followed by my mother bellowing "JAMIE ROSE GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!!!" I rushed down the stairs, as though a olympian aiming for the gold medal. A million thoughts raced through my mind. This clearly wasn't a scream of physical pain, but anger, a deep hatred.

As I approached the bottom step, I looked straight at my mum. Her face was a bright scarlet, her eyebrows narrow and stern, her fist a tight clutch around... MY BOOK!

"Mu- Mum- I can explai-" I stuttered as thick tears ran from my eyes uncontrollably.

"I don't want to hear it young lady." she interrupted. "Go to school, I'll pack your bags and leave them on the doorstep." she continued in a rage.

I grabbed the book from her hand with force, shoved it in my bag, and made my way to the bus stop, leaving a trail of tears behind me as I went.

I cried all day. Leaving school no longer seemed relevant. I was now homeless. And just to cap it off, I realised my period never came. I was throwing up. My body ached an ache like never before.

Joe bought me a pregnancy test during lunch time. The three minutes wait felt like a lifetime... or even a million lifetimes. My heart was racing, just like it did earlier that morning. But this time I felt as though I could hear each beat increase in speed as each second passed by. Joe didn't say a word. He stood outside the door, likely numb to the crowds of celebration that passed. I could picture him there, pacing up and down, praying to himself that it would be negative. He wasn't a believer in God by any means but if there is one thing he disagreed with more than religion, it was teenage pregnancies. I knew at that moment, as the last few seconds of the timer approached, I should have encouraged him to wear a condom. The pill has never been 100% protective. For the life of me I cannot understand why I thought it would be for me.

The timer goes off. Joe enters the cubicle. He looks straight at me as if to say "better late then never." I turn the stick over... "POSITIVE!"

That's just about as much as I remember. There are a few blurry memories of arguing with Joe. Him screaming that if I came out sooner we wouldn't be in this 'mess,' blaming me, saying I must have 'secretly come off the pill,' and yelling at me to say something. I was in a state of paralysed shock. It's all a distant blur now but if there is one thing I remember clearly; I wanted nothing more than to raise and love this baby, accepting it no matter what. With the stress too much to handle, I left school early, caught the next bus, and collected my bags from home, taking off to my grandparents.

I never told them about the baby, nor the reason as to why I was kicked out, and so I stayed there for around a fortnight, saving money from my part-time waitress job in a cafe. It wasn't until the following weekend, that my mother called my grandparents, explaining why I was kicked out. Agreeing with my mother, yet with a little more care, they gave me until the Friday to move out. To my own shock, I had managed to secure a college place and job... in the states.

Fortunate enough to have been provided a free course, accommodation, meals, and travel due to my personal life and contradicting good grades, I packed once more, embarking on the next flight to LAX, ready to begin the rest of my life.