Chapter 34 – “If you want to make sure of keeping it (love) intact

It only takes a couple weeks for me to adjust to The Bracelet. Like the cameras. Like The Shackle. Like anything else in The Center, my mind found a way to adjust. Things my heart either accepts or forgets. How else do I explain trusting Daniel? My mind completely forgot he was a loser and jerk. I had no reason to believe him, yet like an idiot, I pranced into the forest high on fake flirts. I own that stupidity. All I can do now is make every attempt to never forget again. That’s it. My next few months should consist of three things.

Serve my sentence.

Deal with the baby.

Never forget men are lame.

Of course, part of serving my sentence is counseling. I exhale. Fifteen minutes before another round of fun. Not. I stop at a secluded bench preparing myself. I hate being confined in another room. In my first week with Dr. Maggie, I didn’t talk at all. 

I pull out a cracker from the paper bag and battle a hint of nausea. Of course, being silent won’t work forever. So, I’m stuck. I want to serve my sentence without completely losing myself. I’m not an awesome person, but I don’t know how to be anyone else. Giving in won’t work for me. I snap the saltine in half, crumbs rain down on the dirt in front of me.

Instead, I’ve been concentrating on the baby. I’ve never been pro or con about abortion, but it suddenly no longer feels like the undo button I thought it was. I mean. I can never be unpregnant. Just like I can never go back to being a virgin. This pregnancy will always be a part of me. Always.

I stuff half the cracker in my mouth and watch an ant investigate a crumb in the dirt. If I abort the fetus, I will forever be someone who aborted a fetus. It won’t erase the pregnancy. If I put the baby up for adoption, I will forever be someone who gave up a baby. It won’t erase the pregnancy. The last choice is to keep the child. But, I’m not ready to be a mother. That’s for sure. I swallow. Maybe for today I can worry most about serving my sentence. Dealing with the baby will have to wait, another reason men are lame. They can honestly walk away and not deal with it. For now, I’ll pocket those two tasks. Today, I’ll serve my sentence, which consists of finding something to talk to Dr. Maggie about.

My mandatory Velcro sneakers suffocate my toes. I tear open the straps and slip my feet out. Reaching into my sock, I scratch the skin beneath The Shackle. I put my feet on top of my shoes and stretch back against the wooden bench. With my eyes closed, I let the sun attempt to soothe me. I need to find a way to talk to her, but do it on my terms.

The quake of aspen leaves whispers to me through the air. I could tell Dr. Maggie about my father. But I refuse to go there with anyone.  

A soft breeze encourages me to relax. Maybe I can fool her into thinking I’m jealous of my mother. That would be fun. I could plant a few seeds. But that would require digging into some worm-infested history. I think not.

Above my head, birds whistle and chat to each other. While a list of alternatives come in and out of my head, a voice interrupts the calm and any hope of concentration runs away before I can get my fingers around it.

Opening my eyes, I squint and scowl. The sun is harsh and hot.

“Mind if I sit down?” I recognize Mario’s voice immediately and regret giving him the stink eye.

“No, go ahead.”

A bird makes a chick-a-dee-dee-dee call from a tree behind me. I never did thank him, but now I’m afraid it will sound delayed and lame.

“Tough call, getting a Bracelet.” He leans back and stretches out two short legs.

I place each heel on the edge of the bench and wrap my arms around my knees. From a tree not five feet away, a camera records our every move. For the first time since noticing them, I don’t care who watches. I turn to Mario and say, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Helping me against Fisher.” I pull my hair over my shoulder and peel apart each split-end one by one.

“Oh that.” He lifts his shoulders as if apologizing for his gender. “Instinct, I guess.”

“You act like getting electrocuted is no big deal.” I glance at the taser on my wrist. “I’m pretty positive I would hesitate before I jumped into a fight wearing this.”

“‘Sacrifice and self-sacrifice isn’t valued anymore.’” He taps his feet together as if he’s nervous.

“What the heck does that mean?” He might not have been judging me, but I felt judged. Sacrifice is great when it comes to being rescued, but I couldn’t pick pain to help another. I cringe at who I am. It’s bad. I really should talk to Dr. Maggie about that.

“It’s a quote from my favorite composer, James MacMillan.”

“Composer?”

“Yeah. I like classical music.”

“Really?” I look at him again. “Like Beethoven and junk?”

“Yeah and more contemporary guys as well.”

Interesting. I stare at the headphone around his neck. Stupid I know, but I always assumed he listened to Hip Hop, not classical music. That’s deep.

“I wanted to talk to you about something more important.”

“More important than you getting tasered?”

He grins and tilts his head like he’s thinking about it and then says, “Well, yeah.”

“This’ll be good.”

“The best.”

I want to believe him, but the way he hesitates makes me wonder. I’ll never erase the image of The Bracelet’s power from my mind. What could he think is more important than that? Hopefully he’s not got a crush on me. I swallow. He’s cute and all, but that’s not going to happen. I mean, I’m rich and cruel while he’s nice and poor. That stuff might work in movies, but never in real life.

“Do you remember what you said to Dee Dee in Peer Counseling?”

”Yeah.” A chilly current trickles through my skin. While it was weeks ago, I connected Fisher’s attack to the rude comments I made. A little bit of karmic payback.

“Do you really believe sex is nothing?”

I bite my lip, suddenly worried he does like me.

“The reason I’m asking,” he continues, “is because I believe you are dead wrong.”

“Wrong?” I can’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.

“Sex is something. In fact it’s one of the few things a person does that affects them on every level.”

I dust off my socks and slip my feet into my shoes. This conversation can’t happen.

“Seriously. It’s more than physical, like eating. It connects to your brain and spirit.”

“Okay.” With the Velcro on my shoes secure, I stand to leave. The last thing I want is to demolish this nice guy. Better get to Dr. Maggie’s office quick.

“Really! “ He gets up and follows me. “Let me explain.”

I kick an innocent rock out of my way. “I don’t want to know.”

“Why not?”

“Simple.” I turn on him. I don’t mean to be angry, but that’s the way I’ve dealt with boys who want me and I don’t want them. “I’m not interested in some dumb move to get into my pants?”

“Your pants?” He laughs. “No!” He shakes his head and laughs harder. In fact it takes him a minute to say, “I’m not thinking that.”

He looks so shocked that I have to fight off being offended. I shake my head and keep walking. Guys are lame. They all act like they don’t want it, but if I were to flip the script and come on to him, he’d melt in a second. At the top of the hill, I cut through the woods to the left but don’t shake him.

“Courtney, God has something better for you.”

Seriously, the last thing I need right now is a lecture from the holier than thou crowd. I hurry past him only to biff it on a twig of all things. My right hand keeps me from a full face-plant. This can’t be happening. I’m lying in the dirt. Sap incrusted rocks stick to my palms. I sit up and yank them off. My pride hurts more than my body.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I’m not.” I ignore his offer to help me up. “I don’t need some religious nut judging me for liking sex?” I climb to my feet. “I don’t feel guilty about it.”

“I am religious, but…”

“Go away.” I dust off my pants and my pride and turn to go.

He matches my pace. “That doesn’t change the facts. You and your body are precious and deserve to be treated better.”

“Who told you that?” I stop and stare him down.

“God.” He stands, awkward but not nervous.

My fists tighten as I step out of the wilderness and back onto the smooth gravel path fifty feet from the counselors’ building. “Look, I’ve heard enough God stuff in this place to last me a lifetime.”

“What are you talking about?” He runs ahead and opens the creaky screen door. I resist the urge to slug him as I enter the cabin. He keeps talking. “Jesus is the best friend you could have.”

If this was a different time and place, I’d club the skinny twerp and leave him for dead.

“He’ll help you get through the madness here.” He opens his palm toward the facilities. Then he taps the side of his head with his other hand. “And here.”

“Courtney?” Dr. Maggie stands at an inside office door. She glares at him as if he’s wasting her time.

Mario steps away from her.

“Ready?” She asks me without taking her eyes off him.

“You better believe it.” I hurry into her office.