the bed and rest my head in my hands.
This has been a tough day, that's for sure, but tomorrow I will have more strength. I have to get through it all because there isn't an alternative. I open my purse to find my phone so that I can message Mom to let her know I'm safe. The letter my dad wrote still rests inside, but I have no idea when I'll feel ready to open it and read what's inside.
Step by step.
One day at a time.
I have thirty-four weeks to get ready.
7
I'm exhausted, so I decide to take a shower and have an early night. I don't want to unpack my suitcase, so I find a spot against the wall and unzip it on the floor, rummaging for the things I need. The room doesn't have a bathroom attached, so I know I'm going to need to go across the hall. I say a silent prayer for there to be a lock on the door. This has been a house of men for a while, but maybe they all bring girls home. Maybe my dad was a cool father who let his foster sons treat his home like a glorified frat house. Maybe they'll have a party tonight or invite their girlfriends over. Maybe they showed their true colors out on Main Street when they were catcalling me. Harley has left a different impression, but that could all be a ruse to prove to me that he's a decent guy, different from his brothers. If he thinks he can win my trust that easily, he's got another thing coming.
The bathroom is as clean as my first impression could make out from the hall. It smells lemony fresh, and there is a stack of available towels on shelves in the corner. There are even dispensers on the wall for shampoo and body wash, just like in upscale hotels. This is a far cry from the simple home I share with my mom. Another prickle of resentment passes through me. My father was willing to give these strangers luxuries that I've never had the chance to experience.
There is a lock on the back of the door, but even so, I make quick work of bathing. I have no idea how many other bathrooms there are in the place, and I don't want to be in here when someone else needs to use the facilities.
I bought simple nightwear with me: a blue tank top and some three-quarter-length pajama bottoms. For the first time, I notice that my breasts have gotten a little bigger, and my nipples are a darker shade of rose. My body is changing, even at this early stage of pregnancy and noticing makes me feel even more out of control.
I fold the clothes that are clean enough to wear again and find a bag in my suitcase for laundry. When I'm done with everything, I feel thirsty. It's time to take my pregnancy vitamins, and I don't have a glass for water.
Descending the stairs to the kitchen makes me feel like a criminal tiptoeing through someone else's home. I can hear voices somewhere in the house, and my heart starts beating faster. It was just about okay meeting everyone when Walter was here. I feel comfortable enough with Harley, but the rest of them, not so much. Hopefully, they'll be in the den and I can rush in and out of the kitchen fast enough to avoid anyone. As I near the back of the house, I realize that my hopes were futile. The den is empty, and voices are coming from the kitchen. The door is ajar enough for me to catch the conversation, and I pause, thinking that I should wait for a good moment to interrupt.
"She's pregnant?" a voice says.
"But she's only eighteen, isn't she?"
I lean in, realizing that they're talking about me. It's not really a surprise, considering I'm new news, but it feels weird to hear my story filtering through the group so quickly.
"Nineteen," someone corrects. "Not that one year makes much of a difference."
"Wow. What about the baby's father?"
"I don't know." I think it's Harley speaking now in his smooth low voice. "She said it was a long story."
"Well, that doesn't sound good."
"It doesn't. If she were my girl and six weeks pregnant, I wouldn't be happy letting her drive for hours to stay in a house with eleven strange men."
"To be fair, she didn't know we existed until today. Walter told me he