Ms. Driver goes over my case in great detail—hashing everything out. There is something to be said about getting your deepest despair off your chest. I feel lighter by the minute.
“When do you think I’ll be able to file a police report?” I ask.
“Probably within a couple of weeks.” Ms. Driver’s lips curl upward. “Don’t worry. The process will be painless. You’ll go over the events that happened, same as you did with me.”
“After my statement, will this be a long and drawn-out process?”
“It doesn’t have to be. The first step is to see if Jackson admits anything. If he denies it, the state will decide if it goes to court. With the DNA testing proving he’s the father, I’m sure it will.”
“How long will it take to go to court?”
“That could take months or up to a year. There are other routes to take. We can offer him a plea bargain—meaning, if he pleads guilty, he’ll get less time. But at least it will go on his record and he will serve time.”
“Does a plea bargain have to be tried by a jury?”
“No, it’s approved by a judge.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad option. I’m not trying to ruin him by throwing him behind bars for life, but he should be held accountable.”
“You’re absolutely right. When the time comes, we’ll discuss in detail what your options are. I’ll be in touch.”
* * *
One more month to go, and I don’t know how much bigger I could possibly get. I feel like a stuffed sausage. With my petite frame, I’ve only grown out—all belly, and it looks like a beach ball is sitting on my stomach. My Ob/Gyn told me in the last month babies grow the most. This is a fact I’m learning firsthand. My appetite has picked up even more. I stay hungry. Nothing seems to soothe my appetite for long.
Dari spent the night. She’s still asleep in one of the guest bedrooms. My growling stomach woke me up early. I’ve just finished a bowl of grits with smoked sausage when Gigi comes in the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
“You’re up early,” Gigi greets.
“The baby woke me up. She’s full now.” Gigi laughs at my joke.
“How did you sleep?”
Recently, since I’ve decided to move forward by appointing a lawyer, I have slept more peacefully. “I slept well. No nightmares.”
“Very good.” Gigi smiles at me warmly. “I’m going to the grocery store today. I’m barbequing for Labor Day this Monday. Is there anything you need?”
“Dari and I can go for you. Just write down what you need.” I offer.
“Are you sure? You don’t have to go through the trouble. You’re starting to wobble when you walk,” Gigi cracks her own joke.
I giggle. “That’s exactly why I need to go. It will be good exercise. Besides, it’s the least I can do.”
“Okay. Let me get a list together for you.”
“I’ll go wake up Dari to tell her I’ve recruited her as a personal grocery shopper. She’ll be thrilled.”
Gigi laughs to herself. Dari is not a morning person. She loves to sleep in on the weekend. She’ll be grumpy to be woken up early. I grin at the thought. This will be payback for the prank she pulled on me last week. Dari’s such a joker, loving to do pranks. This time the joke’s on her.
As we pull into the grocery store parking lot, my stomach begins to cramp. Dari’s mostly up now, thanks to a cup of coffee. The cramp continues and I grip my belly.
Dari’s brow knits. “You okay?”
The cramps begin to abate. “Yeah, it’s probably Braxton Hicks contractions. The doctor said it’s common to get them.”
It’s still early morning, and the store isn’t packed yet. Dari pulls out Gigi’s list.
“This will take forever to get all this stuff,” Dari pouts.
“You know Gigi loves to throw down.”
Another Braxton Hicks assaults me. I try my best to ignore it as Dari grabs a buggy. We start our journey in the produce section, getting various items off the list. I dismiss the disapproving looks from a few customers. The basketball on my stomach is proof that I’m a pregnant teen. I’ve become accustomed to those stares. They don’t know the circumstances involving my pregnancy, so I’ve learned to take them in stride—opinions are like buttholes.
I thought the cramps were a random encounter, but soon, they start to occur more frequently. They get stronger, making it impossible to ignore them. As another one hits, I bend over, gripping the basket.
“Madison, are the cramps getting worse?”
I don’t want to admit they are. “Aren’t we almost done?”
Dari’s nose scrunches. “Just about, but you look like you’re in a lot of pain. Maybe you need to go to the hospital.”
“No, I’ll be okay,” I say as the stomach pain subsides.
Dari arches her eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, let’s just get the remaining items. I’ll lie down when I get home, then I’m sure I will feel better.”
I make it ten minutes without any more stomach pains—the longest it’s been between them since we arrived almost an hour ago. We get in line to check out when a male voice calls my name.
“Madison, is that you?”
Dari is standing behind me. She tilts her head back toward the male voice, who’s in the fifteen items or less line.
“Oh, it’s Chauncey,” Dari says.
I feel my eyes widen. I haven’t seen him since the end of school last year. Chauncey walks over to our lane. He still looks the same—on the tall side and very handsome. Chauncey is carrying a small red basket with a pack of sausage, biscuits, eggs, a carton of milk and orange juice. Someone is cooking breakfast.
“Hey, Chauncey,” I greet him.
“Long time no see. Dariel had told me you moved to Houston.”
They exchange a quick hello. “I did, and I moved back before the summer started.”
“It’s good to have you back.” His lips curl upward, then he gets a good look at me and his eyes dilate.
Yep, I’m pregos.
“You’re ... pregnant?”
I place one hand on my tummy. “It’s that obvious, huh?” I can’t help but smile at his perplexed facial expression.
Dari giggles, and then she whispers in my ear. “The poor boy is shocked.”
“When are you due?” asks Chauncey.
“In a month.”
He clears his throat. “Well, congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you know what you’re having?”
“A girl.”
“You still look great. I couldn’t even tell you were pregnant at first.”
I feel my cheeks flush. We’re the next to check out. Dari starts putting the groceries on the counter. My cramps start up again. The pain builds up quickly. I gasp, grabbing my side.
“Are you okay?” Chauncey’s brow furrows.
“These Braxton Hicks contractions have been kicking my butt since we arrived.”
“You lost me.”
“Normal preparation contractions before birth.”
Creases line on Chauncey’s forehead. “Are you sure it’s normal?”
“Well, they have been getting stronger. I’m ... not sure.” The intensity of the pain is starting to worry me. Chauncey puts his basket down and begins to help get the groceries from our basket to the register. The pain has subsided some, but not entirely.
“Madie, you may need to call your doctor if this keeps up,” Dari warns me.
I poke out my lips. I hoped they would have calmed down. I hate being the center of attention. Early labor will surely bring a ton of it. I stand off to the side, catching my breath while Dari and Chauncey finish emptying the buggy. More rounds of pain hit me while they’re doing so. Dari uses Gigi’s credit card to pay the cashier. I wait on Chauncey while he gets his items rung up. The man who’s standing behind us to check out glares our direction. I guess he’s not happy about Chauncey skipping him in line.
The contractions flare up again, and then there’s an internal pop. The next thing I know, liquid gushes down my pants. I exhale loudly. Dari turns toward me and her jaw drops.
Chauncey glances at my clothes, then he says, “Did you have an accident?”
“I think my water just broke.”