Teenagers, Love and Pregnancy

Chapter 22

"Oh my gosh. . .," Joey said, pulling away and staring at me. I was in utter shock. My mouth couldn't even form words anymore. The only sound was the snow, thick and falling fast and hard, pelting the nursery windows.

"I-I'm SO sorry," he said. "I should NOT have done that, I just. . ." he trailed off.

"Yeah, you're right," I said. "You shouldn't have done that. I'm eight months pregnant Joey! I'm engaged! I TRUSTED you!"

"Cam, I don't even know why I just did that! I'm so sorry, really."

"I don't even know what to say to you right now."

There was a long pause where Joey stared at his sneakers.

"I-I should go," he said.

"Yeah, you should," I said. I watched in silence, still stunned, as Joey walked out of the nursery.

"Are. . .are we still on for next week?" he asked sheepishly from the hallway.

"Definitely NOT," I said. "And not for the week after, or the week after that either. It's going to be a long time before I can forgive you, Joey."

"I know Cam," he replied quietly. "But I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." And with that, he walked down the stairs and out of my sight.

If I had known, I wouldn't have let him go.

But I didn't know, and he went.

I stood, completely still and silent, only the sound of snow slapping the side of the house for who knows how long. Five minutes? Ten minutes? That's when I realized what a jerk I had been. Sure, Joey let his feelings get the best of him when he knew it was wrong. But who hadn't? I thought back to a time in my life, eight months ago, when I had let my emotions get out of control when I was dating Joey. That's how I'd ended up pregnant, and had Joey been an arrogant jerk to me then? No, he hadn't. He had forgiven me and then become one of my best friends. That's when I realized it wasn't fair that I had gone off on him. He had just made a mistake, and I knew it was my duty to let him know that it was okay.

I waddled down the stairs as fast as a VERY pregnant me could, stepped into my Uggs, and threw on my coat. Just as I grabbed my keys and stuffed them into my pocket, I heard my mom calling from the den.

"Cameron? Where do you think you're going?" she called. I rolled my eyes.

"Out, Mom. I'll be back soon."

"Come in here!"

I resisted the urge to scream as I went into the den. Mom and John were sitting on the couch, John on his laptop, Mom reading a book.

"You are not going anywhere, young lady," she said sternly.

"But Mom," I said, trying to sound more like a mature adult and less like a whiny teenager. "Why?"

"Because I don't want you driving tonight. It's New Years' Eve, and the streets are full of people driving drunk. Plus, it's really icy. I just want you in tonight, okay?"

"Mom, it's three o'clock in the afternoon, and this is REALLY important," I protested.

"More important than staying alive to take care of that baby?" She quipped coolly.

"Mom, something. . .happened between me and Joey, and I just have to make sure he's okay."

"Can't you just call him and work things out over the phone?"

"Would you like me to call someone who's driving, Mother?" I asked, trying to beat her at her own game. Mom opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by John wrapping his hand around her wrist.