Page 9 of Friar
Madison studied me for a long moment, then nodded.“Okay.A few days.But then we need to do something.You can’t hide this forever.”
“I know,” I repeated, the words feeling inadequate against the weight of my situation.“I know.”
* * *
The parking lot behind the abandoned Wilson’s Feed Store was pitch-black, hidden from the main road and from prying eyes.I sat in my car with the engine off, the only light coming from the distant glow of a streetlamp that barely penetrated the shadows.My hands clutched the steering wheel like it was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly turned to quicksand beneath my feet.The conversation with Madison kept replaying in my head, her voice echoing with uncomfortable truths.Your uncle will throw you out.Those bikers aren’t the family-man type.You have options.Time’s not on your side.
I leaned back against the headrest, a sob building in my chest that I couldn’t afford to release.One cry might become a scream, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop once I started.Instead, I forced myself to breathe -- in through my nose, out through my mouth -- the way Aunt June had taught me to do during panic attacks when I’d first come to live with them.The irony wasn’t lost on me.Using her techniques to calm myself about something that would make her disown me.
Tears welled up despite my efforts, spilling hot down my cheeks and dripping onto my hands.I let them fall, too exhausted to wipe them away.My fingers found their way to my stomach, splaying across my shirt.Six weeks.So tiny still -- barely more than a collection of cells, according to the biology textbook Uncle Pete had tried to have banned from the school library for its “graphic depictions of reproduction.”Yet it was enough to destroy everything.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, staring out at nothing.The night pressed in around me, as dark and uncertain as my future.What options did I really have?Tell Uncle Pete and Aunt June?The thought made my stomach clench with fear.
I could picture it with perfect clarity -- Uncle Pete’s face turning that particular shade of red it got when he was truly angry, not just performing righteousness for his congregation.The vein in his forehead throbbing as he quoted scripture about harlots and fornication.Aunt June’s quiet disappointment somehow worse than his rage, her thin lips pressed together as she shook her head.“We tried so hard with you, Cheri,” she’d say.“After all we’ve done, taking you in when no one else would…”
They wouldn’t let me stay.Not with a baby growing inside me, living proof of my sin.Uncle Pete had made that clear enough when another pastor’s daughter had gotten pregnant last year.He’d stood in the pulpit the following Sunday and praised her parents for “practicing the tough love necessary to guide a wayward soul back to righteousness.”They’d sent her to a home for unwed mothers three states away.She’d never come back.
I’d have nowhere to go.I had no money, no job, no other family.
What about the Reckless Kings?The thought surfaced, unbidden, a dangerous whisper of possibility.But the image of me waddling up to the clubhouse, belly swollen with child, almost made me laugh from the sheer absurdity of it.What would I even say?“Remember me?The church girl who got drunk and went wild with three of you?Surprise!I’m pregnant, and one of you is the father!”
I tried to imagine their reactions.Would Friar deny it outright, claim I was lying to trap him?Or would he step up, offer support in his own way?I barely knew him -- one night of heated touches and whispered promises that had meant nothing in the light of day.
Would Nugget’s smile disappear when I told him?Would he panic, a man suddenly faced with unwanted fatherhood?Or would his gentle hands that had guided mine on the pool cue reach out to steady me, to offer comfort?
And Nigel… Would he see a baby as an obstacle to his ambitions within the club?Would he resent me for trapping him?Or would he see it as a way to prove himself, taking responsibility like a full member would?
I didn’t know these men.One night of rebellion, of escape from the suffocating righteousness of Uncle Pete’s house, wasn’t enough to gauge how they’d react to news that would change all our lives forever.
I pressed my palms against my eyes until I saw stars, trying to force my scattered thoughts into some kind of order.Every path seemed to lead to disaster.Tell my aunt and uncle, get thrown out.Tell the Reckless Kings, face rejection or, worse, reluctant obligation.Don’t tell anyone and… what?Watch as my body betrayed me week by week, my secret becoming impossible to hide?Madison was right -- time wasn’t on my side.
“What am I going to do?”I whispered to the empty car, to the child growing inside me, to the God I wasn’t sure was listening anymore.
No answer came.Only the distant sound of a motorcycle somewhere in town, the rumble of its engine rising and falling like distant thunder.The sound sent a shiver through me.
I straightened in my seat, wiping the tears from my face with the back of my hand.I couldn’t sit in this parking lot forever.Uncle Pete and Aunt June would be awake in six hours.They’d expect me at the breakfast table, head bowed for morning prayer, pretending my world wasn’t collapsing around me.
My fingers found the cross around my neck, the silver warm from my skin.I’d worn it every day since Aunt June had given it to me, a constant reminder of the faith that was supposed to guide my life.Now it felt like a weight, pulling me down into depths I couldn’t navigate.
I let it go.Faith hadn’t protected me from this.Prayer hadn’t stopped me from sneaking out that night, from drinking too much, from following Friar down that hallway.I would need more than divine intervention now.I would need courage, and practical solutions, and strength I wasn’t sure I possessed.
I turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life.The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the empty lot before me.Empty, like the future I was driving toward -- blank and waiting to be filled with whatever choice I made next.I put the car in drive, hands steady now on the wheel.I didn’t know what I was going to do yet, but I knew I had to do something.Before my secret became impossible to hide.
Chapter Four
Cheri
One Month Later
The nausea hit me like a wave, dragging me from sleep with ruthless efficiency.I lay still for a moment, eyes fixed on the wooden crucifix above my bed, willing the churning in my stomach to subside.It didn’t.The morning light filtered through my thin curtains, casting accusatory beams across my quilt.
I swallowed hard, the bitter taste of bile rising in my throat.My stomach lurched again, more insistent this time.I threw back the covers and stumbled to my feet, one hand pressed against my mouth, the other against my belly.The floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I rushed toward the door.
I barely made it to the toilet before my body convulsed, emptying what little remained in my stomach from yesterday’s dinner.I knelt on the cold tile, gripping the porcelain with white knuckles, my body heaving long after there was nothing left to expel.Tears streamed down my face -- from the physical strain or the emotional one, I couldn’t tell anymore.The taste in my mouth was vile, a reminder of the secret growing inside me.
When the retching finally subsided, I slumped against the bathtub, trembling and spent.The bathroom was quiet except for my ragged breathing and the soft drip of the faucet.
I pulled myself up slowly, avoiding my reflection in the mirror as I rinsed my mouth and splashed cold water on my face.No amount of water could wash away what was happening to me.I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes against the reality that was closing in around me.
