First of all, Colby had to get clean. If getting pregnant wasn’t enough of a kick in the pants, Colby figured she should just jump off a bridge now. Even if she wasn’t keeping the baby, it wasn’t fair to soak it in meth.
Twenty minutes after she peed on the pregnancy-test stick and an hour after she got high, Colby walked to the nearest Ministry of Children and Family Development office and right up to the front desk.
“I need rehab.”
The secretary looked up. “Good morning.” She pointed to a sign on the wall. Please take a number.
“I’m pregnant.” Colby put a hand to her stomach. “If I wait, I’ll puke. On the carpet.”
“Okeydokey.” The secretary wrinkled her nose, but her smile was kind. “Sit for a minute. I’ll see what I can do.”
Colby sat, one hand in her purse on the waxed-paper bag Gram had given her before she left. It was like the ones on the airplane, tall and narrow with the little tabs that fold in. Colby glanced at it. She doubted she could get all the barf into it. It was a very small bag.
Colby surveyed the people nearby, trying to distract herself. A fat woman with three kids fighting over the one piece of chalk in the play corner. Two more toddlers wrestling with a broken yellow truck while their moms ignored them. A girl about Colby’s age with an infant in her lap. The baby stared at Colby with damp eyes, one finger hooked in the corner of its mouth.
“Boy or girl?” Colby asked.
“Boy.” The girl gave him a halfhearted bounce on her knee.
“What’s his name?”
“Aiden.”
“That’s nice.” And then the nausea welled up again and Colby stared at her feet, gripping the barf bag in one hand.
“You pregnant?” the girl asked.
Colby nodded.
“Congratulations.” There was snark in her tone. Colby wasn’t sure what to say back. “What are you going to do?”
“Do?”
“Like, get rid of it? Or have it?” The girl blinked at her. “I had, like, three abortions before I had him. And I only had him because I didn’t know I was pregnant until, like, way too late. I thought I was getting fat.”
Colby straightened. “Wow.”
“So?”
“What?” Colby put a hand to her mouth and muttered, “Excuse me.” She lurched to her feet and ran out the door. She managed to open the bag, but, as she suspected, most of the vomit splattered onto the sidewalk. She put a hand on a wall and heaved. “Stupid bag.” She flung it to the ground.
An old lady waiting for the bus handed Colby a wet wipe. “There you go, dear. Take a breath. Get it all out.”
“Thank you.” Colby heaved again, but nothing came. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, lovely!” The old lady handed her another wet wipe. “I love babies. I love their wee toes. And their soft heads.”
“Me too,” Colby blurted.
“Must be on my way. You keep these.” She handed Colby the packet of wet wipes. She put her palm on Colby’s flat tummy. “Congratulations, dear. What a gift.”
Colby returned to the office. She didn’t know if she liked baby toes or their soft heads. She’d just said it because she wasn’t sure what else to say. She’d looked after kids sometimes, but never little babies. She didn’t know if she liked babies at all.
The girl with the baby was gone, and Colby was glad for it. She didn’t want to answer any questions about what she was going to do with the baby.
When she thought about getting rid of it, she felt a wash of anxiety flush through her.
When she thought about having it, she felt the same wash of worry.
Right now, she needed to get clean.
The secretary waved. “Ready for you.”
She pointed Colby toward a door held open by a slender man wearing a blue bow tie and blue-and-green-striped suspenders.
“That’s a pretty gay outfit,” Colby said as he ushered her through.
“That’s the point.” He led them to his office, decorated with framed art of foxes. Illustrations, paintings, even the print on the curtains had jolly little foxes on them. Colby sat. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Colby pointed to the row of ceramic and plastic foxes lined up along the front of his desk. “What’s with the foxes?”
“Dapper and debonair. Like me. I collect them.”
“No shit. Super gay.”
“No shit, indeed. I’m Mr. Horvath, Super Gay.”
“You’re not old enough to be called mister.”
“Then you can call me sir.”
“All right, sir.” Colby picked up a small plastic fox and turned it in her hand.
“Now, let’s talk about you.” Mr. Horvath sat back and crossed his legs. He gripped his top knee with both hands and smiled. “Janet at the front mentioned rehab. You want to go to rehab.”
“Yeah.” Colby nodded. “Right away. Like, now.”
“That’s unlikely.” Mr. Horvath uncrossed his legs and pulled his chair to his desk. He typed something and stared at the computer screen. “Typically it’s a six-week wait.” He scrolled down the screen. “Puts us in mid-July.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Without even glancing up, he typed some more. “Okay, then. That changes things.” He sat back again. “Be ready tomorrow.”
“Just like that?”
“Clean mommies make for healthier babies.”
“Right.”
“How far along are you?”
“Six weeks.”
“You sound pretty sure.”
“I’m positive.”
“We’ll arrange a dating ultrasound while you’re in rehab.” Mr. Horvath stood. “I’ll be right back, with a cup you’ll need to pee in.”
“I know exactly when it happened.”
“Still. We like to be sure.”
“I am totally sure.”
“Yes, well, I hear that a lot. Plus, we’ll test for drugs. What will we find?”
“Meth. Heroin. Some other stuff too probably.”
“All right. Be right back.”
As soon as he left, Colby shuffled the toy foxes closer together, filling in the gap where the one in her hand had been. She tucked that one in her purse.
Mr. Horvath came back and handed her a cup with an orange lid and a little baggie with her name on it. “Pee into the cup, cup goes into the bag, bag goes into the cupboard beside the toilet. Easy peasy.”
“Where am I going?”
“Down the hall, first door on your left.”
“No, I mean tomorrow.”
“Meadow Farm. Near Powell River. For expectant moms or moms with kids. Lovely place.”
Expectant moms. It sounded so old-fashioned, like his bow tie and suspenders.
“You’ve been?”
“Seen the brochures. Waterfront. Nice log buildings. Indoor pool.”
Reminded, he pulled open his file cabinet and held out a brochure.
“Wait.” He didn’t let Colby take the brochure. “All of this is based on the fact that you’re going through with the pregnancy. If you have plans to terminate it, we can come up with a different place for you.”
Colby shook her head. She didn’t want to wait six weeks for rehab, even if she wasn’t going to keep the baby. She wanted to go now.
“Keeping it.”
First things first. Get clean. She needed time and space to think, away from everything.
If she decided on an abortion, she’d have to leave rehab to get it done in time. If she was going to keep the baby, she wanted to do right by it. As that thought occurred to her, another one did too. If she was going to have the baby and give it away, she still wanted to do right by the baby.
No matter what she decided, getting clean was the first step.
Abortion.
Adoption.
Keep it.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch an unwanted baby by the toe.
She’d have to make a decision, but first, she’d have to make it until tomorrow without getting high.
“Thank you, Mr. Horvath.”
“You’re welcome. You’re doing the right thing, no matter what you decide about the pregnancy. And if you decide to terminate while you’re at Meadow Farm, we can make arrangements.”
Colby bristled. She didn’t like it when people knew what she was thinking. Gram was always doing that.
“And you can keep the fox. Consider it a talisman.”
“I—” Colby didn’t know what to say. And then she did. She reached out a hand, and Mr. Horvath took it, and they shook. “Thank you, Mr. Horvath. I appreciate it.”