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Authors: Penny Marshall
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Catskills run by the parents of my mother’s dancing school favorite, Lois Rosenberg. Mickeyworked construction in Albuquerque. We kept in touch with letters and lengthy long-distance phone conversations.
When we returned to campus late that summer for what was my junior and his sophomore year, we picked up where we left off. We even discussed marriage in that dreamy, what-if way kids do when they’re in love for the first time. But I wasn’t in a rush, and Mickey said we needed to wait until after graduation when he would have a job and could start building a stable and solid future. I admired his self-control and common sense.
Then, one weekend early in the season, Mickey didn’t make the travel team and he sunk into a deep depression. I’m sure it was the first time in his sporting life that he had been left behind, and he didn’t know how to handle the setback. We went out the next night and in the process of consoling him, we ended up getting romantic in his car. I’d been in a front seat before, except this time I knew what I was doing.
Or so I thought—until I missed my period. I made an appointment with the campus doctor, who gave me a cursory exam and said I was stressed. I knew stress didn’t affect me that way, though. Without going into detail, I asked the doctor to give me a blood test. Even though the chance of me being pregnant from that one time was one in a million, I knew a baby was growing in me. And a few days later, the test results confirmed it.
For the first twenty-four hours, I was numb. All I could think about or hear in my head was my mother. She epitomized all my fears, frustrations, and sense of failure. I knew I was going to have to tell her, and before her, I had to tell Mickey. But before telling either of them, I wanted to think through my options, because maybe, just maybe, I might come up with a solution.
The most obvious option was to get an abortion in Juarez. I knew some girls who’d gone there. But I ruled it out immediately. Another option was to ride horses and push myself physically in an effort tocause a miscarriage. I’d also heard stories about girls who’d gone that route, but I didn’t know if they were true, and I thought, with my luck, I’d botch the job and make a tough situation worse.
Still another option was to move to Amarillo and have the baby on my own. I don’t know why Amarillo. I’d never been there. It started with an “A.” It sounded far away. I had made my bed, and I would sleep in it—but out of town. I liked that scenario. I would be running away from Mickey and my mother, the two people I didn’t want to face.
Yet they were also the two people that I needed to tell. I don’t know why, but something about me would rather face the fire than torture myself, so I worked up my courage and broke the news to Mickey.
His reaction was much better than when he didn’t make the travel team. He listened to me run through the possible scenarios, and after I finished, he brought up another option—marriage.
“It’s mine, too,” he said. “We’ll get married.”
I had purposely avoided the M-word. Despite whatever Mickey and I had said in the past, I knew deep down that I wasn’t ready to get married, and I probably didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him. But Mickey wrapped his strong arms around me and assured me that we were doing the right thing and would get through this together.
I called home, and my mother answered.
“I have news,” I said. “I’m getting married.”
“You’re pregnant,” she said.
It wasn’t even a question.
“No, I’m not,” I said reflexively.
“Yes, you are. And I’ll tell you right now that I’m not coming for the wedding. You’ll need me more when the baby is born.”
I suppose the conversation could have been worse.
My father was upset. He blamed Mickey and said he wanted to fly out and “kick that Indian’s teeth in.” Mickey was half Irish andhalf Mexican, hence the
When we returned to campus late that summer for what was my junior and his sophomore year, we picked up where we left off. We even discussed marriage in that dreamy, what-if way kids do when they’re in love for the first time. But I wasn’t in a rush, and Mickey said we needed to wait until after graduation when he would have a job and could start building a stable and solid future. I admired his self-control and common sense.
Then, one weekend early in the season, Mickey didn’t make the travel team and he sunk into a deep depression. I’m sure it was the first time in his sporting life that he had been left behind, and he didn’t know how to handle the setback. We went out the next night and in the process of consoling him, we ended up getting romantic in his car. I’d been in a front seat before, except this time I knew what I was doing.
Or so I thought—until I missed my period. I made an appointment with the campus doctor, who gave me a cursory exam and said I was stressed. I knew stress didn’t affect me that way, though. Without going into detail, I asked the doctor to give me a blood test. Even though the chance of me being pregnant from that one time was one in a million, I knew a baby was growing in me. And a few days later, the test results confirmed it.
For the first twenty-four hours, I was numb. All I could think about or hear in my head was my mother. She epitomized all my fears, frustrations, and sense of failure. I knew I was going to have to tell her, and before her, I had to tell Mickey. But before telling either of them, I wanted to think through my options, because maybe, just maybe, I might come up with a solution.
The most obvious option was to get an abortion in Juarez. I knew some girls who’d gone there. But I ruled it out immediately. Another option was to ride horses and push myself physically in an effort tocause a miscarriage. I’d also heard stories about girls who’d gone that route, but I didn’t know if they were true, and I thought, with my luck, I’d botch the job and make a tough situation worse.
Still another option was to move to Amarillo and have the baby on my own. I don’t know why Amarillo. I’d never been there. It started with an “A.” It sounded far away. I had made my bed, and I would sleep in it—but out of town. I liked that scenario. I would be running away from Mickey and my mother, the two people I didn’t want to face.
Yet they were also the two people that I needed to tell. I don’t know why, but something about me would rather face the fire than torture myself, so I worked up my courage and broke the news to Mickey.
His reaction was much better than when he didn’t make the travel team. He listened to me run through the possible scenarios, and after I finished, he brought up another option—marriage.
“It’s mine, too,” he said. “We’ll get married.”
I had purposely avoided the M-word. Despite whatever Mickey and I had said in the past, I knew deep down that I wasn’t ready to get married, and I probably didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with him. But Mickey wrapped his strong arms around me and assured me that we were doing the right thing and would get through this together.
I called home, and my mother answered.
“I have news,” I said. “I’m getting married.”
“You’re pregnant,” she said.
It wasn’t even a question.
“No, I’m not,” I said reflexively.
“Yes, you are. And I’ll tell you right now that I’m not coming for the wedding. You’ll need me more when the baby is born.”
I suppose the conversation could have been worse.
My father was upset. He blamed Mickey and said he wanted to fly out and “kick that Indian’s teeth in.” Mickey was half Irish andhalf Mexican, hence the
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