My Year with Grandma

Choices

I wandered to the bathroom after I ran out of tears to splash cool water on my hot cheeks. I dried my face and looked in the mirror and found Gram standing behind me looking at my reflection. I jumped around to face her. "Jeez, woman!" I whisper screamed grabbing my chest to calm my racing heart. "Why do you do that? HOW do you do that? You're like the queen of stealth."

She looked at me with soft eyes. "My apologies."

"What do you want? It's pretty late."

"Sleep is overrated. You don't appear to have indulged in much of it yourself; if at all."

"Yeah, well... let's just say, the dog was wrong."

"Fair enough. About what?"

I stalked back to my room knowing she would follow. I flipped the light on, grabbed Jude's letter and shoved it into her hand. "This! I wasn't ready for this."

She looked at the paper and folded it up without reading it. "Yes, you were. This is the answer to the question you've been asking yourself every night since your arrival."

"And what question is that?"

"Did it really happen?" My eyes shot wide. How did she know? "He answered that question for you in this letter, did he not?"

My hands started shaking. "If you didn't read it, then how would you..."

She wrapped me in her arms tightly and whispered, "I told you. I know what I need to know when I need to know it."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Okay then. It came out while you were you going through the initial withdrawal stage. You cried out several times for this Jude person to stop what he was doing. It's not difficult to understand what that something was."

I hugged her back for the first time since meeting her. "If you knew already, why not just tell me."

"Would you have believed me if I did?"

"No. I suppose not."

"That is why I didn't say anything." She withdrew from the embrace to look at me. "But I would have needed to before the month was out if you hadn't figured it out yourself."

"And why is that?"

"I think deep down you know why."

I sighed and hugged her again, squeezing her tighter. I didn't want to believe what we both knew to be true. My best friend, whom I loved with all my heart had raped me and now I'm pregnant. Fifteen and knocked up. My mother is gonna freak the frick out. I mean, really freak. Worse than I am inside right now. I am so beyond screwed right now.

She held me for several moments before she spoke again. "Man makes his plans, but God ordains his steps."

I pulled away annoyed. I never did understand all her God talk. I honestly didn't see the point in believing in some mystical being we can't see. If  he was real, why did he let so many bad things happen? If he was so stinkin' merciful, why did he let my dad die? Why did he let me get raped? "Whatever," I groaned. "I don't even know what that's supposed to mean. And I don't really want to."

"It means," she began.

"Great!" I rolled my eyes and plopped down on my bed. "You're gonna tell me anyway."

"Jams was ten years old when my love and I started sponsoring him. When he was fourteen, we went to visit him in his village. We met a lot the villagers and the children he lived with in the orphanage." She sat next to me on the bed and ran her fingers through the short hair that had grown back in the last month. "We really have no idea how good we have it here in the states. The poorest of the poor here is richer still than the folks in that village. We learned from the elders there that Jams' parents had planned to sell him to a neighboring village chief as labor. They were sick and knew they wouldn't be able to care for him for long. But they died before they could sell him, and he went to the orphanage instead."

"What does that have to do..."

"Just listen. Half-way around the world, shortly after he was placed in the orphanage, my husband and I attended a Christian concert called Winter Jam. Several bands play for one low price which is great because we love music but we're also cheapskates. In the middle of the show, the promoters come out and tell the audience about these kids all over the world that need help. We decided to go ahead and sponsor one and raised our hand when they asked for sponsors. We didn't choose our child, we let them give us one. It just happened to be ten-year-old Jams. He wrote us a thank you letter that we answered. He responded to the answer and so on. And thus, we became pen-pals. When he graduated out of the program and was looking for scholarships to attend university we helped him get into the one nearby. Told him he could stay with us while he attended. His plan was to complete his degree and take it back to Africa to work there."

"But then he met May, right?"

"Right. He met and fell in love with May. At first, she was totally on board with moving to Africa when he was done with schooling, but then the babies came. Motherhood has a way of changing one's perspective."

"Wait! May has kids?"

"Yes. A boy a year older than you and a girl a year younger. You'll meet them soon enough. Anyway, by the time Jams finished school, their kids were four and two. They decided to wait until they were older before considering a move back to Africa. So, for now, here he remains. And he just happens to be one of the best baby doctors around these parts."

"I still don't see what you're getting at."

"God knew you were going to need us; need Jams, so while his parents planned to sell him in slavery, God saved him and brought him to us. While he planned to go back to Africa, God kept him here. Because, like it or not, you need him."

"I know I'm not ready for this, Gram. Can't I just end it and just not?" I am too young for a baby. I have school to finish. I'd be a lousy mother. I suck at being a daughter. No. This can't happen. I can't let it happen.  If I end it, I don't have to tell mom...  or Jude.

Gram sighed mournfully. "I suppose you could punish the child for the parent's mistakes and do away with it. If that's really what you want to do."

"It's not punishment! It's mercy. I'm fifteen! And this wasn't my choice. And... I'm drug addict, remember?"

"Well, at least you finally admit that."

Oh, so smug, this woman. "See? So, it's better if I don't have it. I probably already messed it up anyway. I mean, I was high when it happened and stayed that way until I was forced to come here. I'd being do it a favor."

"Death is a favor?  There are tests that can determine if there has been any damage done."

Why is she not listening? I don't want to do this. I'm scared. "I didn't choose this."

"Not directly, no. But neither did your baby."

"That's not fair."

"Look, you made choices that put you in harm's way. If the worst thing that has happened is that you are pregnant with this friend of yours, Jude's child, then I'd say you got off easy. Things could have been so much worse."

"You want me to have it, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. That child is my blood, just as you are. I could no sooner want you dead than that child." She squared her shoulders and turned from me. "But it's out my hands. The choice is yours. Make it wisely."

"You'd hate me, wouldn't you?"  Not sure why I would care if she hated me, but the thought bothered me more than I thought it should.  And if she hated me, then May would too?  Would they tell Mom?  Oh my god, why do I care?

"No. I couldn't hate you. I'd be disappointed for sure. Certainly, mourn the loss of innocent life, but no. I could never hate you. You're my blood. I love you and nothing you have ever done or ever will do, will change that."