I’m going out with the girls! Yea! I haven’t had “me” time in a while. My darling hubby is out of town again on business. I just hope it isn’t monkey business! Nah, he doesn’t have the guts, he’s seen me mad before! It’s great having a dependable, phantom husband, who is in town often enough to pay the bills and spoil me. Besides, I call his cell at odd hours to see if there is any heavy breathing or background snoring! Trust, but with follow up!
Cindy invited a friend over, though I don’t know why the invitation was required, Mandy has spent more time here than at home the past few months. I barely know her mother, she just waves in passing. That’s why I don’t let Cindy go to her house often, no supervision. Lorraine is divorced and lives the wild life, I keep Cindy from that type of milieu, she needs to enjoy her youth and naiveté for as long as I can control it, and I’m very controlling!
Cindy looked up from her T.V show long enough to appraise me. “Hey, you look pretty good,” {before I could thank her} “I didn’t know you could do it!” followed the compliment.
“I’m sure there’s a better way you could have phrased that,” I announced, preening in front of the hall mirror. I do look pretty darn good for an old married woman. No. That was wrong. For a young married woman who has an old husband! (He’s my senior by nine weeks and already forty)
“Got a question for you.” Cindy stated approaching me slowly. “Don’t you think I’m old enough to car date?”
“Where’s the question? All I heard was something totally out of the question.”
“But mom, Mandy car dates and she’s just 6 months older than me!” Oh, wonderful peer pressure. Why can’t they pressure each other to do better in school?
“Well, in six months we’ll discuss this again. It’ll give me time to explore the alternatives.”“What alternatives?” Cindy questioned, suspiciously.
“I need to locate the local convents and acquire an application or two.”
Something sounding like harrumph came out of Cindy as she marched back to the couch. Scruffy jumped in her lap to comfort her with wet kisses.
I could see through the glass door Mandy was here. Boy has she put on weight. (I think). She used to wear the popular midriff revealing clothes of teenagers; tight low cut jeans and tight high cut tops. Now she has reverted to the opposite style, baggy everything. She entered with her hands on her back, looking somewhat uncomfortable, claiming she got an injury in gym class. I suspect she’s getting an “F” in the subject; scales would back me up.
Mandy quickly joined Cindy on the sofa before I could give her my customary hug. Well up until a few months ago I gave customary hugs but she has been scrambling just out of reach recently. I think she’s self-conscious about her weight gain.
“Okay, girls, have a good time, the only boys allowed in here tonight are the ones on T.V.”
Cindy rolled her eyes but I detected a slight look of surprise on Mandy (surprise or revulsion?)
followed by a look of extreme discomfort with an explanation of brutal indigestion. I directed Cindy on where to find the Tums for her guest and made my departure.
“Oh, and don’t spill anything on my new couch!” I warned poking my head back in the door.
The evening was blissful, good friends, fine dining, and virgin drinks. (All of us were designated drivers having come in separate vehicles). Some guy looking for a date sent us over a tray of real drinks that we declined after laughing heartedly. We were all spoken for but did enjoy being noticed at our age, especially by some young college kid. (The lighting almost certainly fooled him into thinking we were younger!)As we were studying the desert selections, my cell jingled. I thought I had turned it off. It was Cindy.
“Don’t answer it! We promised no interruptions tonight, just us girls, no cares or worries.”
“You’re right!” I ignored the ringing, once, twice. No! I couldn’t do it. Cindy wouldn’t call for nothing, she would text message.
Answering, I got a frantic, “Mom! Get here quick!” Background screaming with Scruffy barking sent me to my car faster than greased lightening dialing 911 as I went. I ran several red lights, barely avoiding getting t-boned at least three times. I don’t know how I got home, I wasn’t thinking about driving, I was thinking about the panic in Cindy’s voice.
Police cars, an ambulance and a fire truck were all crowded in my driveway forcing me to park two houses down and race home on heels. How I didn’t break an ankle, I’ll never know.
Mandy lay on the couch, writhing and shrieking. Sweat was pouring from her face and blood seemed to be all over. Scruffy was in a corner curled in a ball with his paws crossed over his ears. People were everyway, issuing orders and giving directions. A police officer was talking to a horrified looking Cindy by the kitchen. I rushed to her side.
“What’s going on? What happened?” Fearing someone had broken in and harmed Mandy but left Cindy unmarked.
“Mandy is having a baby!” Cindy cried. Time stopped. How did I miss that one? Mandy wasn’t even sixteen. No hugs. The clothes. That explains the voluminous outfits and weight gain. I’m an idiot.
“Did you call her mother?” I asked
“Mandy didn’t want me too. Lorraine is out on a date and doesn’t like to be bothered. She tells her dates that Mandy is her younger sister.” Since the divorce, Mandy has called her mother Loraine apparently at Lorraine’s request.
“Surely she wants to be here for her daughter and grandchild!”
“Mom, Mandy didn’t even tell her she was pregnant. I just found out and we’re best friends!”
Wow. What a secret keeper. What a performance! What a travesty. Not being able to speak to anyone about something so momentous. What a mother! She didn’t deserve a child like Mandy. Sure, she made a mistake but she was still a sweet kid. I should know, she spends more time here than at her home and now I know why. This is more home for her than her own. Heck, half her clothes were in Cindy’s closet or my laundry hamper.
Mandy, gasping, panting, sweating, was yelling she didn’t want this baby. She didn’t want this baby! She wasn’t prepared for motherhood. She didn’t want to be a mother. She had plans for her future. She was begging for pain relief. She gripped the hand I offered to comfort her, and peace miraculously descended on me. I rubbed her swollen belly during the contractions and talked her down from the ripping exploding sensations, that I remember so well, the best I could. She kept apologizing to me. To me! This girl needed apologies from those around her that had lived completely unaware of her private earthbound hell. Cindy, white as a sheet, couldn’t handle it; one of the EMT’s assisted her to another room and stayed with her. (This had better not be a trick for her to meet a guy or she‘d be the one leaving here on a stretcher! A mother always has to worry!)
When the baby came, paramedics wrapped it up and offered it to Mandy. She turned her head and wept. The paramedics removed the baby and shook their heads sympathetically.
A police officer slowly approached Mandy and me. After a brief discussion we learned that the paramedics could take the baby without questions to a baby safe site, under the Baby Moses law, which allowed anyone to hand new born babies over to qualified professionals, paramedics, hospitals, firemen, or police, with no repercussions. It was a law in Texas to prevent infant deaths and maternal prosecution patterned after the biblical story of Moses.
Mandy didn’t have to keep the baby if she didn’t want to! What would Mandy have done with the baby if she had been home alone when this “blessed event” occurred? No one suspected she was pregnant. Her mother obviously didn’t know, or care. Stories of abandoned babies showered my mind. Babies abandoned in bathrooms, dumpsters, anywhere. Left to the elements.
Sometimes found alive, sometimes not. Mothers hunted down like dogs and prosecuted, as well they should be. Lives changed forever over one bad moment in time, one response to hormones.
Refusing a trip to the hospital, Mandy was checked over, abdomen massaged to expel the remaining uterine contents and given a sedative. (Can I have one too, please?) The medics, after helping me get her to a bed, said she would probably be alright. She would be staying here for a while, I decided. Who would miss her at home? I was instructed to watch for complications, bleeding, fever ect. And contact her doctor for a follow up.
I tried several times that night to contact Mandy‘s mother unsuccessfully. Her cell was off and I hung up on the answering machine ten times, this wasn’t leave a message material except for her to please give me a call.
The first thing in the morning, after five cups of coffee and some ibuprophen, I trooped over to Mandy’s house. Two cars were in the driveway. Mandy didn’t have a car and Mommy dearest only had one. Hmmmm.
A partially dressed man, (if wearing a towel is considered being dressed) answered the door. Not at first however, I had to pound relentlessly for ten minutes. With water dripping from his torso and pooling on the ceramic tiles at his feet, he informed me Lorraine was taking a shower. I noticed a gold band on his left ring finger. Where did you tell your wife you’d be last night, I thought.
“Well, get her out. I need to speak with her.” I wasn’t going to be shy. I don’t even think I was going to bother being polite.
Lorraine entered wearing an identical towel, with water running rivulets down her body.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Lorraine snapped. Good, don’t ask if Mandy is alright.
After a brief, virtually one-sided conversation, arrangements were made for Mandy to stay at my house indefinitely. Lorraine didn’t seem saddened by these measures, unless smiling was a cover up for intense pain. She was being given her freedom for uninterrupted dating. Wow. She was going to have as much fun as her ex husband. So this is what passes for fun now, a new guy every night, no security, no commitments, just exposure to every STD in the book. Russian roulette was safer. I’m glad I’m boring.
I was back home before the girls woke up. One more look at my new couch and I nearly cried. Scruffy, sniffing around his favorite spot, pointed his nose in the air and went in search of another resting place. I only had it for two weeks. Let’s see how good professional cleaners are, I deliberated, going through the yellow pages.
Cindy came downstairs looking glum. She must really feel bad: no makeup and unbrushed hair. The night had taken its toil on her. She needed a tranquilizer as much as Mandy had but instead she had relied on prayer and her snuggle buddy, Scruffy. The two paramount remedies.
“Mom, about car dating.” Cindy said.
“My answer hasn’t changed,” I answered, flipping through the phone book. (car cleaners, carpet cleaners…. Upholstery cleaners!)
“That’s alright; I think I’d rather be a nun!” Cindy stated on her way into the kitchen.
Apparently she was handling things better than I expected. Wait till I tell her they don’t wear makeup and they shave their heads. I think I'll lay a pillow on the floor behind her for safties sake.
In the hall way, eavesdropping, figure number one bent over scratching Scruffy’s ears, “ I hope I never get in a car with that woman again, if I wasn’t immortal I could have been killed at least three times!”
Figure number two, “If you hadn’t been in the car, she would have been killed, but only once!”
“Very funny. Thank heavens (literally) we saved another baby and found a good placement for a lonely teenager. Good thing the mother forgot to turn off her cell phone."
“What makes you think she forgot?”
“Let’s get out of here before the husband comes home and finds out he has another mouth to feed.”
“What ? The Boss didn‘t handle Joseph to your satisfaction? He's good at convincing people to raise other people‘s kids!”
“Let’s go. ” And they were gone leaving Scruffy whimpering for more attention.
Exodus 2:1-4
Isaiah 1:18
Isaiah 49:15
Rom 8:31-39
I Cor. 7
Eph 3:14-21
Eph 4:22-24
