WHEN NOVEMBER GOT HOME, HER MOTHER was sitting at the kitchen table, working a crossword puzzle. “Hi, honey. Glad you’re home early. How was the book fair?”
“It was okay.” November flopped down in the kitchen chair across from her mother.
“What’s a six-letter word that means ‘worn down’? I think it starts with an e.”
“Eroded,” November answered.
“Thanks,” said her mother as she scribbled the answer. “Okay, here’s another one. Who was Cleopatra’s lover? Oh, it’s a long one.”
“Marc Antony. It could also be Julius Caesar. Cleo got around.” November chuckled mirthlessly.
“Hey, you’re good. Which reminds me, your registration for the Black College Tour came in the mail today,” her mother said as she frowned over another clue. “You’re all set to leave when school gets out in June. Then, as soon as you get back, you’re off to Cornell! I think checking out the Black colleges is a good idea, in spite of the Cornell program, just to make sure you end up at the college that’s right for you.”
November didn’t answer. She shifted nervously in her seat. “Did you already pay for it?”
“Of course. Dana’s mother has signed her up for the same tour, so the two of you can share a room at the various stops. We’ve got lots of time to work out the details.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t go, Mom,” November said softly.
“Not go? Why not? The tour ought to be fun, even if you’re just window shopping!”
November couldn’t believe how hard this was. Her mother, blissfully unaware, chattered on about colleges and crossword clues without even noticing November’s mood. “Maybe I should look into other options, Mom,” she said, her voice flat.
Mrs. Nelson looked up. “What’s wrong, November? Did something happen at the book fair?”
“No.” November offered no explanation. She just couldn’t get the words out. She knew that as soon as she said them out loud, nothing would ever be the same.
Her mother frowned. “Come to think of it, you’ve had the blues for the past few weeks. What’s up, baby girl? You know you can tell me anything.”
Mothers say that kind of stuff, November thought, but they don’t really want to know everything. “Everything is a mess, Mom,” November began, her voice a whisper.
“Is it Josh?” her mother asked gently. “You know, when your daddy died, I felt cold all the time, like I’d never get warm or feel right again. So I really do know how you must hurt about losing Josh.” She reached over and touched her daughter’s cheek.
“You don’t get it, Mom. It’s worse than you think,” November mumbled, pulling away.
“What is it, baby?” November’s mother asked again, even more gently.
November tried not to cry, but she couldn’t help it. “What’s an eight-letter word that means I’ve screwed up my life forever?”
Mrs. Nelson looked at her daughter sharply. “What are you talking about, November?”
“I didn’t go to the book fair today. I went to a doctor.” She paused and studied the pattern on the kitchen floor. “I’m…I’m pregnant, Mom.”
Her mother said nothing for a full minute. Her mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again as if she was trying to speak, but no words came out. Finally she said simply, “Oh my.” Her voice was a squeak.
“Are you mad at me?” November stared at her wild-eyed mother.
“Oh, my Lord.” Mrs. Nelson stood up, sat down, then stood up again. “You can’t be—you better not be!” Her voice was gravelly and threatening. She walked around the kitchen, then returned to her chair and put her head on the table. Then she sat up and raked her hands through her hair. “I can’t deal with this! Not you. Not you, November!”
“Please don’t be angry, Mom. Please…” November cringed.
“Angry? I’m not sure if that’s the right word. Astonished, maybe. Outraged, perhaps. Maybe even just plain pissed. The thought of you…my baby girl…oh my.”
“I’m sorry,” November whispered.
“How could you?” Her mother’s face was the palest November had ever seen it.
November was sure her mother didn’t really want the answer to that one. “I know you’re disappointed,” November said to the floor.
“Right now what I’m feeling is disgust, I think.”
November sniffled. “I feel so bad, Mom. I feel like I just beat you in the head with a hammer.”
“I’ve got to be honest. I do too.” Her mother’s hair was a mess as she kept massaging her temple with her fingers.
“Please don’t hate me,” November begged.
Her mother said nothing for a minute or so. Finally she breathed deeply. “I hate that this has happened to us, November.” Then her eyes went wild once more and she moaned deeply, then began to sob.
All November could see was the heaving of her mother’s shoulders. Afraid to even touch her, November stared at her parents’ faded wedding photo on the mantel and wished she were on another continent, another planet. Any place but this small kitchen full of grief and disappointment. “Please stop crying, Mommy,” she whispered.
“How long have you known?” asked her mother, when she finally sat up. Her mascara had smeared.
“A month or so.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” Her mother got up and blew her nose on a paper towel. “I need some coffee,” she said absently. She turned to make a cup of coffee but seemed to have trouble finding her favorite red cup, which was sitting right on the counter, or locating a spoon in the drawer full of silverware.
“I was afraid to tell you. And ashamed,” November admitted, looking back down at the floor. It was easier to watch the floor than her mother’s jerky, uncomfortable movements.
Mrs. Nelson scooped three tablespoons of instant coffee into a cup, added water, and popped it into the microwave. “I’m confused,” she said to November. “When did this happen? None of this makes sense.”
“Just before Josh died,” November whispered.
“I guess most parents are the last to know about what their children are doing, but I know that you and I have had lots of open and honest conversations about sexual stuff since you were a little girl.” The microwave bell dinged and she removed the coffee.
“Yeah,” November said, shrugging. “I know.”
“You always came to me with any questions, and I’ve always tried to be straight up with you.” Mrs. Nelson poured skim milk into her coffee.
“I always thought that was really cool you talked to me like that. None of the other girls’ moms would even say the word ‘sex,’” November said, almost afraid to look at her mother.
“I guess that’s why this hits me so hard. I thought we were kinda close and able to discuss everything. I didn’t even know you were, uh, you know, sexually active.”
“It’s not like we did it a lot,” November tried to explain.
Her mother looked as if she had been slapped. “It’s like I don’t even know you!”
November wanted to sink through the floor. “I’m so sorry, Mommy.”
Mrs. Nelson had returned to the table. She put seven spoons of sugar in her coffee before she noticed what she was doing. “Go on,” she said, trying, it seemed to November, to sound a little more encouraging.
“I’m scared, Mom. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Me and Josh just got carried away—it’s amazing how easily it happened.” November put her head in her hands.
“You didn’t use any kind of, uh, you know, protection?”
“We never even thought about it.”
“How dumb can you be?” her mother almost screamed.
“There’s a big difference between those movies they show at school in health class and the real deal,” November told her. “You don’t even think about thinking, you know what I’m saying?”
“Not really. You’re an intelligent girl. Where was your brain?”
November shrugged. “Stuff just happens. By the time your brain comes back, it’s over.”
“I should have warned you better. Watched you better.” Her mother stirred the coffee. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault, Mom. I did this, not you.”
“Yes, I guess you did.” Her mother sighed and gave the coffee another furious stir. Then she looked up sharply. “Oh, my Lord!” she said with dismay.
“What?” November couldn’t imagine anything worse coming from this conversation. She was wrong.
“The Cornell program,” her mother said, her voice thick. “There’s no sense in going now. This was your stepping stone to get into one of the best schools in the country next year. There goes that dream.” She gave November a hard stare.
“What am I gonna do, Mom?” November asked quietly.
Her mother didn’t answer right away. She blew her nose and finally took a sip of her coffee. “Good Lord!” she said. “That’s the worst coffee I’ve ever had in my life!” She got up and poured it down the sink. Then she said, looking directly at November, “I’ve got to be straight with you, honey. I’m real disappointed, and I’m so angry I could bite something.”
“Please don’t be mad at me,” November said again.
Her mother rinsed out her coffee cup and said in a measured tone, “I’m not mad at you, November, just at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. This is certainly not what I pictured for your future. You’re so young, and you’ve got so much potential. What a damn waste.” She wiped away another tear.
“I’m so scared.”
“It’s going to take a while to absorb all this. We’ve been through a lot together, me and you. I don’t know how, but we’ll get through this.” She looked at her daughter. “Oh, my Lord, I wish we didn’t have to.”
November ran to her mother’s open arms.