wanted him to come home and didn’t want him to come home at the same time. Once it was over with, it would be done. She could tell him and she wouldn’t have to worry about that part anymore. It would just be all the shit that came after it.
When he finally came in the door, she’d stopped crying but her face was still red, and she knew she looked strange sitting there, her legs underneath her, a blanket wrapped around her.
“What?” Max said. “What happened?”
It occurred to her later that he probably thought someone had died. And then after she told him, just blurted it right out, he probably wished that it had been that—because if someone had died, it would be sad, sure, but not unthinkable. They would know what to do and how to deal with it. There would be things they had to do, actions they had to take. But with this, they were left on their own.
Sometimes when Cleo was in a moment that she knew was an important one, she could step back from it like she was watching it, like she wasn’t part of it, like she was just an observer. And she knew she was going to remember for the rest of her life how Max responded when she said, “I’m pregnant,” simply and without any lead-in. Because he’d remained standing and put both hands on either side of his head so that he looked the way people on TV look when they’re witnessing a tragedy or an accident, like someone jumping from a building. And then he looked straight at her, waiting for her to take it back or say she was kidding, but she remained silent.
“Oh fuck,” he said. And then again. “Oh fuck.”
THEY DIDN’T SLEEP THAT NIGHT. They tried; when they were exhausted with talking and Cleo was drained from crying, they lay on the bed facing each other with their eyes closed. But neither of them slept, and soon they’d just start talking again.
“What are we going to do?” Max said. It was just what she’d wanted to hear Monica say. But it didn’t sound comforting coming out of his mouth.
“I don’t know,” Cleo said. “I really don’t know.”
“Do you think you want to keep it? Or do you think you don’t?”
He couldn’t even say the word, which was driving her crazy. All night, he’d talked around it. It wasn’t his fault, she tried to tell herself. It was a hard word to say, but if they were going to talk about it, they were going to have to say it.
“I don’t know if I can have an abortion,” she said.
“Okay.”
“But I don’t know if I can have the baby.”
“Okay.”
Cleo started crying again, quietly. Tears just rolled out of her eyes and she had no idea how she still had any left inside of her. She was surely dehydrating herself. She hadn’t cried this much in her whole life. Never.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” Max said. He put his hand on the side of her head. “Whatever we do will be okay.”
Cleo moved away from him and sat up to blow her nose. He sat up too, put his hand on her back. She knew that he was trying to make her feel better, trying to touch her so that she would know he was there, but it was suffocating. She blew her nose and added the Kleenex to the pile that was on the nightstand.
“I can’t imagine doing either,” she said. “But if I had to pick one that I really couldn’t do, it would be having an abortion. I can’t. I know I just can’t.”
“I know,” Max said.
“And I don’t want to even think about giving the baby away. I don’t want to do that. I mean, we’re young but we’re not, like, thirteen. People our age have babies all the time.”
“So that’s the decision, then,” Max said. He reached over and put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her down until she was lying in his lap. She was so uncomfortable, she wanted to scream. It felt like Max was trying to act like a straitjacket. But she knew if she moved then, he’d be hurt, and so she willed herself to stay still.
“We shouldn’t tell anyone,” Cleo said. “Not now. Not for a while. Anything could happen. I could have a miscarriage. It happens all the time.” She tried not to hope for this, but she couldn’t help it. It was one thing to