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18

              Carissa walked fast, almost jogging, across the parking lot.  The wind blew through her hair and her stomach churned.  She trembled as the automatic doors opened.  She felt like everyone was watching her as she made her way through the store.  She looked from isle to isle, hoping they had it, and hoping, if they did have it, she had the money. 

              Corn, green beans, carrots, milk, coffee, cough syrup, aspirin, and finally the box she was looking for.  She checked her pockets for the twelve dollars it was going to cost; she had it.  She looked up and down the aisle before picking it up. 

              Carissa held it close to her as she made her way to a checkout counter.  She stood in line wishing they had self-service checkouts but modern technology had not reached this particular store.  Carissa would have to do buy it the old fashioned way. 

              Carissa placed the box on the counter and held her head low.  She heard the beep of the scanner.  “Will that be all?” the cashier said, not polite. 

              “Yes, ma’am,” Carissa said as she pulled several bills out of her pocket.  Carissa handed the cashier the money without hearing a total.  The cashier gave her the change and a plastic bag.  Carissa hurried out of the store.

              Carissa took the box out of the bag and put it in her pocket.  She did not want any questions.  Only the cashier knew and that was too many people.

              Carissa was a little calmer, not walking quite so fast.  She made her way through the parking lot, dodging a car or two and maneuvering around baskets.  “Carissa,” she heard from behind.  April trotted to catch up.  “What’s up, man?”

              “Hey,” Carissa said.  She trembled as her heart instantly raced.  Her knees where shaking, a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek.

              “So how did your dad take it?”

              “He was pissed but better than I thought he would,” Carissa said.  She did not want to be here having this conversation.  She needed to be somewhere else taking care of what was in her pocket. 

              April could tell Carissa was uncomfortable. Something big was going on or maybe it was something Carissa was making too big, but either way April could tell.  “You should come to the party tonight.  I already stopped by the blunt shop and got our provisions and beer is already going to be there.  We are all set girl.”  April nudged Carissa.  Carissa pushed with the corners of her mouth but could not get the “oh fuck” off her face.  April knew not to put any more pressure on Carissa.  April could see there was enough.             

              “I might, but right now I need to get home.  Dad was still pretty mad when I left this morning.  If you don’t see me there, you’ll know why.”  Carissa took a few steps back from April.

              “Ok, man.  See ya later,” April said.

              “Bye,” Carissa said. 

              Carissa jogged across the four lanes of traffic.  Cars were minimal on Saturdays before noon and this Saturday was no different.  She turned down her alley shortcut just as she heard April scream for her one last time, “Carissa,” she turned back to April, “It’s going to be ok.”  April waved and Carissa turned back down the alley.  She needed to get home.

              Carissa watched the clock.  The second hand slowed with every count, but finally it was time.  Her legs were heavy.  The hallway seemed to stretch.  The door to the bathroom opened easier than it had before.  She bent down and opened the cabinet under the sink.  She pulled the stick out of the small cup and held it in her hand.  She closed her eyes and made a silent prayer before unclasping her fingers.  She looked at the box one last time just to make sure she knew which color was which.  She looked back down.  It was blue.  She was pregnant.  She threw the stick and took the second test that came in the box, blue again.  Confirmed.  “Oh my God.”  She was everything Casey had said she was, trash.  Her father would now be the grandfather of his own child and Carissa would be the mother.   

              Carissa sat down.  She was numb.  She could not think.  She stared at the linoleum floor.  Nothing was going to ever be normal. Carissa looked at the test one more time.  “No, no, no,” She pleaded. 
This cannot be happening.  This cannot be fucking happening.  What about David?  What about me?  What am I go to do?  This is disgusting.  Oh my God.  What fuck am I going to do?  That fucking bastard!

              In that moment, she hated Randy.  He ruined her, he raped her, and when she thought something beautiful had come into her life, he impregnated her. 
I’m pregnant
.

              Carissa shoved the second test into her pocket and walked out of the bathroom.  She listened.  The television blasted a laugh track.  Someone was probably watching television since it was on.  Of course, there was a chance that no one was in the living room.  She did not want to see anyone.  She needed to leave.  If there was someone in there, she hoped they were so enveloped by the programming they would not notice a pregnant teen trying to sneak out the front door on a Saturday morning trying to hide the fact that she was having father’s next child, her next sibling/ incestualized progeny. 

              Carissa held back a few tears and breathed deep to try to soften the lump in her throat.  Maybe she could handle this.  Maybe there was a way.  Maybe she could… “Hey, Baby,” Randy said as he passed through the hall into the kitchen.  The dam broke.  The tears came.  Then her legs ran.  “What’s wrong Carissa?” Randy was able to bellow before the front door slammed shut.

              Carissa hurdled the front steps.  Her shoes slapped at the pavement as the cadence of her strides lengthened, faster.  She passed two stopped cars and was almost hit by a left hand turning third, its horn blast fading as quick as it began.  She pushed through yards and jumped over fences.  She found herself running through trees, feeling the branches digging into her flesh.  Then an opening.  The clearing appeared before her.  Her sanctuary? 
There is nothing for me.

Carissa dropped to her knees. 
What the fuck can I do?  I can’t afford a baby.  I can’t afford an abortion.  Is it going to be retarded?  I am going to be alone.  I can’t stay here everyone will know.  What am I going to do? I am only seventeen.  I am having my father’s baby.  I am having my father’s baby.  I am having my father’s baby.
  “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” she screamed until she was out of breathe.

              Carissa rolled herself onto her back.  In the midmorning sun, she cried, not for herself, but for David and her first child.   

              Carissa stayed in the same spot for most of the day.  She watched the clouds twist and turn, merge and dissipate, and picked shapes out of the cast shadows on the billowing borders.  The cartoonish forms reminded her of when she was young, innocent.  A stick and a rock were enough to save a unicorn from the evil wizard.  The sky danced with an ever-changing backdrop of sun and shadow playing perfect into any story she had created.  Carissa used to play games with any kid on the block that was willing to play, but most importantly, follow her fluid rules.
 
“Eleven,” she whispered aloud.

              Carissa watched as two clouds merged.  The white fluff swelled then settled to a familiar figure, a person.  As the form moved across the sky, the person appeared to grow arms then a face shaped.  The features were distinct, almost real.  The armed stretched out and the mouth curled into a smile.  Seven years ago, the image would have been magic, but at seventeen and pregnant, just a random shape, in a random cloud.  To Carissa, there was nothing.

              Carissa stood outside of David’s window for only a moment before Mrs. Shelton walked through the door.  Mrs. Shelton motioned to the bed and left the room.  David took his shirt off then threw it into a hamper near the door. David’s scars permeated through the edges of crusted wounds.  The scars were lifted and purple surrounded by small darkened dots in nearly perfect lines.  He stood looking over his shoulders at the healing wounds.  He then grabbed a book from his desk and sat on the end of his bed.  Carissa turned and walked away.  She could not do what she had too, not now.  She was already numb.  If she had to end things with David, she wanted to feel it.

              Carissa stepped from the grass and onto the sidewalk.  She stopped for a moment, looked back, and could only see the light from his window.  She breathed deep, then the light went out.  She walked the road back to what was going to be another chapter of her distraught youth.

19

With the help of her bourbon-soaked mettle, Casey, near hyperventilating, shoved clothes into a second half-full green suitcase.  Casey was careful to leave the blue striped stick on the nightstand in-between her unfinished drink and the alarm clock.  She had found the test during her early morning still-drunk-starting-hangover stumble to the bathroom. Her ass shaped to the cold seat. With her elbows on her knees, she rolled her head back letting out a slight moan of pleasure as the first trickle’s tone played through her legs.  It was the kind of pleasure one can get only after the walls of their bladder have stretched slightly from the build-up of urinary pressure and then waiting until the absolute last minute before allowing the pelvic muscle to relax so a free flow can begin. She buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes.   She held herself there for a moment, maybe for self-reflection or just to keep from throwing up.  She opened her eyes, peeked between her fingers, and saw the stick.  She did not even have to look to know what it was for.  Within five minutes, an overstuffed black suitcase was propped against the wall next to the front door. 

              Lea sat cross-legged in the floor staring at the black bag, crying.  She did not want to leave.  “That little fucking cunt,” Lea heard the slurred voice emanating from the back bedroom.  Lea was not quite sure what was happening but she was sure Carissa was not coming with her.  She imagined being in a dark room, by herself, with only stuffed animals to protect her.  Stuffed animals were not real.  Lea knew the only reason she was not scared of the dark was because Carissa slept in the bed across the room.  Lea could not help the sound but tried to muffle her soft whimpers. 

              Casey heaved to get the bag onto its rollers and moving across the carpet.  “Lea quit crying and get in the car,” Casey said hitting the end table by the couch.  “And grab that fucking suit case.” 

              Lea’s whimper turned a wale as she followed Casey to the car.  The suitcase clacked as it dropped down the first step.  Lea was leaving her sister.  The wheels jolted on the second step.  Lea loved her Daddy.  The bag bounced on the third.  Lea already wants to go home.  The rollers rhythm sang across the concrete. 
No. More. Now.

“Here,” Casey said reaching for the bag.  Lea climbed into the back seat.  The car shook.  Lea did not care why.  She felt a drip run from her nose.  She wiped it away as she slid into the center seat.  She pulled the seatbelt across her chest and clicked it into place.  She was leaving. 

              “Stop that bawlin’,” Casey said as she climbed into the driver’s seat.  She started the engine and reached for the gearshift but hesitated.  “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

              Casey pushed through the front door, her bedroom door, and grabbed the test-stick from the nightstand.  She looked at it one last time before leaving her room for Carissa’s.  She opened the door and looked at the bed Randy and Carissa had “shared”. 
Seduced your own father and make him knock you up.  Disgusting little whore.
  Casey looked up at the fluorescent stars in their dingy daytime state.  She looked to Carissa’s desk.  She stared at the cluttered mess for only a moment before she picked up the picture of Jen.  She could see Jen every time she looked at Carissa and now she could see Carissa in Jen.  She placed the picture back on the desk, laying the test down in front of it.  “Here’s what your little bitch has become,” she said walking back to the door.  Casey stopped.  She stepped back to the desk, grabbed the picture, and gave the glass one firm tap on the table’s corner. The pane cracked but held in place.  Casey set the frame back to its display so Jen could look down on what Carissa had become.

              The creak of the first step forced Carissa back into somewhat of a present existence.  It occurred to her that she was going to have to tell her father.  Carissa had something growing inside and that would soon turn to a bump, then belly, then a hump, and in the end it would be a shitting, puking, possibly even a morbidly fucked up human being. In simpler terms, he was going to know no matter if she told him or not. 

Daddy, I’m pregnant.  It’s yours.
 
Daddy, you’re going to be a daddy
. 
Daddy, you fucked me and now I’m pregnant.
  She would have to work on her approach. 

              Carissa touched the cold doorknob, her hand shook as she gave it a quick turn.  “Hey, baby,” Randy said. Randy was sitting on the couch.  Carissa, not sure why, was surprised to see him sitting.  He was leaned against the back of the couch, his arm draped over the armrest.  The remote rested in between his middle finger and thumb, teetered against his hand as if it could fall at any second.

              “Hi, daddy,” Carissa said. 

              Randy looked up at Carissa revealing his red eyes, face puffy, and hair a mess.  “I need you come sit down,” his voice somber with a slight hint of defeat and shame.  Carissa’s first thoughts went to the test.  She had thrown the second test and could not remember if she had picked it up. 
Did he find it?  I think I picked it up.  Oh, fuck!

              Carissa prayed, hoped, incanted, and just generally begged whatever creator, cosmos, or karma that controlled everything with every step that he had not found the test.  Now, Carissa wanted nothing more than to be the person to have to tell her father she was with…child.  She sat down beside him and it was only then that she noticed the photo album that sat beside him.  The album was opened to a picture of Carissa and Jen.  They were both smiling the same smile.  Jen gripped a rope tight with her legs slid through a weather beaten tire.  In Jen’s lap, a three year old Carissa grabbed the inside of the tire so she could still hang on while she lay back onto Jen.  Jen’s hair flowed behind them.  The sun, orange and low, peaked through the tree tops.  Carissa could not tell if it was sunrise or sunset but she could see they were happy.               

Randy reached over and turned the page.  “Look,” he said tilting the album, smiling.  The girl in the photo looked just like Carissa only the picture was much older than her.  The shape of the white haired girl’s mouth, the gaze in her eye, the shape of the ears--it was Carissa but not Carissa.  “She was beautiful like you.”

              Carissa smiled.

              “Casey’s gone,” Randy said.  “She took Lea.”  Carissa closed her eyes half relieved and half sad.  “She was gone when I got here.”

              “Daddy, I’m sorry,” Carissa said but she really was not. 

              “It’s not your fault, Baby,” Randy said.  “We’ve been having problems for a while. Hell, you already knew that.  She is not the same woman anymore.  I’m not the same man.  I only stayed for you and Lea.  I thought you needed a mother no matter how fucked up that mother was, and Lea needs a father.” 

              Carissa and Randy sat silent for a long time.  Carissa knew that even though Casey hated her, she loved Lea.  Casey had no reason to resent Lea, not yet.  In the recent, Carissa had come to realize exactly what her father was and wanted Lea to be safe.  If that safety only came with a drunk like Casey, it was better than with the man Randy had become.  Lea did not need or deserve the burden that was Carissa’s nights.  Carissa was actually happy for Lea even though she would miss her sister.  She would still know that Lea would not have to see what she had seen a few nights before or experience was Carissa had to endure.  It was Carissa’s punishment for existence.  It was Carissa’s burden to bear.  It was Carissa’s normal, not Lea’s future.               

              Carissa looked back at the album.  The pictures were gone.  Only the cover with its faded white pleating and gold lettered “Family Memories” glowered back. 
Fucking family memories.
  She used her hand to cover the words.  She did not want to see them.  They were not her memories.  They were from some other little girl in some other time in some other world.  That little girl had a mother, a grandmother, and love.  That little girl would have turned seventeen with the biggest worry being whether she was going to pass math, not wondering if her and her father’s rape child was going to be retarded. 

Randy pulled the book from under Carissa’s hand, setting it aside.  He turned Carissa.  He could see she was completely consumed.  He scooted closer to her.  He put an arm around her pulling her in close.  She accepted his consoling embrace.  She breathed in his scent which did calm her some but she did not know why.  Then he softened his squeeze.  He kissed her cheek then began to stroke her shoulder.  He ran his fingertips down her arm then caressed Carissa’s thigh.  “I’m really tired,” she said bolting to her feet.  “I’m going to bed.  Good night, daddy.”  She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and walked out of the room.  She hurried down the hall hoping he would not follow.  At least when he came in her room, he was sneaking-up on her.  She felt that it wasn’t her choice, but on the couch -- that would have changed her.