Read Online Tell Me a Secret by Holly Cupala - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Holly Cupala
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suitcase.
“Can I get you something to eat?” I asked, hoping mypoliteness veiled my desperation. “A cookie or a sandwich?” She declined. My body growled in protest.
“No, I’m here to ask you a few questions before we start the pro—”
My mom cut in. “Miz Wrent is here from Social Services. She wants to help you make some decisions.” Miz Wrent looked like there was a lot more she’d like to say, but instead she turned to me with a waxy smile.
“Are you sure I can’t get you a snack?”
“No, no,” she began, then suddenly the light bulb turned on. “Oh, but you must be starving. Get yourself something before we get started.”
As I slapped together a sandwich, the two of them whispered. I strained to hear.
“Ms. Mathison—”
“Call me Hillary.”
“Hillary. Does she know who the father is?”
“Yes.”
“And will he want to be involved in this process?”
“Not if we can help it,” my mother snorted. He will if I can, I said to myself as I dumped a glob of raspberry jam in the center of the peanut-buttered bread.
Miz Wrent’s voice shifted. “It’s a shame, seeing what a lovely home you could—” Then she stopped herself. Shifted back. When she spoke again, it was all business. “Has she been having any problems so far?”
“Oh, no,” my mom responded, as if she even knew. “Ifonly we could all weather pregnancy as easily as a teenager. Do you have children?” I didn’t catch the response, but they laughed conspiratorially. I wished I could wring my mom’s stupid, haughty neck.
“What is her due date?” asked Miz Wrent as she recovered from the shared joke.
Yeah, Mom, tell her about the date. I didn’t want to miss this opportunity to see her squirm. But Mom evaded—damage control was her specialty. “Mandy, tell Miz Wrent about your pregnancy.”
“I’m not exactly sure.” I made a show of counting. “Beginning of summer…nine months, right? June…July…this spring, maybe?” Who said I wasn’t an actress?
Miz Wrent shored herself up. “Not exactly sure? Hasn’t your doctor given you a due date?”
“I haven’t been to a doctor,” I said innocently.
“You haven’t been to a doctor yet?” she demanded, giving my mom the “what kind of mother are you?” look. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug.
“We haven’t found the right doctor yet,” my mom said, convincingly enough for a Tony. Behind the triumph, though, was a note of panic. Miz Wrent looked doubtful.
I smiled shyly. “Maybe you have a recommendation?”
“Of course. I’ll leave you some information when I give you the paperwork I’d like you to fill out. Now.” She gave my mom an unsure look. “I need to ask Rand some questions. Do you have any medical conditions—STDs, high blood pressure,diabetes—that could complicate delivery or endanger the health of the baby?”
“No, I’ve never—”
“Have you taken any drugs or alcohol since becoming pregnant?”
“No!”
My mother leaned forward, gobbling up my words as soon as they left my mouth.
“Would you be interested in meeting the parents in an open relationship, or would you prefer your information to be classified?”
I was turning a dangerous corner, about to step into a covered pit. “Why are you asking me all of this? What do you mean, meet the parents?”
The pieces slammed into my head like a puzzle of broken glass. The only thing to do is put it up for adoption .
I couldn’t believe my mother had done this. I hated her. I wished I could kill her. And more than anything, I wished for Xanda’s help. She had left me to grope in the darkness by myself.
Miz Wrent’s relentless gears ground to a halt. “Excuse me, Ms. Mathison. You led me to believe your daughter wanted to give this baby up for adoption.”
Adoption . I could see the path stretched out before me. I couldn’t turn back now that they knew. There would be no art, no escape if I crossed this threshold and took what they offered. My
“Can I get you something to eat?” I asked, hoping mypoliteness veiled my desperation. “A cookie or a sandwich?” She declined. My body growled in protest.
“No, I’m here to ask you a few questions before we start the pro—”
My mom cut in. “Miz Wrent is here from Social Services. She wants to help you make some decisions.” Miz Wrent looked like there was a lot more she’d like to say, but instead she turned to me with a waxy smile.
“Are you sure I can’t get you a snack?”
“No, no,” she began, then suddenly the light bulb turned on. “Oh, but you must be starving. Get yourself something before we get started.”
As I slapped together a sandwich, the two of them whispered. I strained to hear.
“Ms. Mathison—”
“Call me Hillary.”
“Hillary. Does she know who the father is?”
“Yes.”
“And will he want to be involved in this process?”
“Not if we can help it,” my mother snorted. He will if I can, I said to myself as I dumped a glob of raspberry jam in the center of the peanut-buttered bread.
Miz Wrent’s voice shifted. “It’s a shame, seeing what a lovely home you could—” Then she stopped herself. Shifted back. When she spoke again, it was all business. “Has she been having any problems so far?”
“Oh, no,” my mom responded, as if she even knew. “Ifonly we could all weather pregnancy as easily as a teenager. Do you have children?” I didn’t catch the response, but they laughed conspiratorially. I wished I could wring my mom’s stupid, haughty neck.
“What is her due date?” asked Miz Wrent as she recovered from the shared joke.
Yeah, Mom, tell her about the date. I didn’t want to miss this opportunity to see her squirm. But Mom evaded—damage control was her specialty. “Mandy, tell Miz Wrent about your pregnancy.”
“I’m not exactly sure.” I made a show of counting. “Beginning of summer…nine months, right? June…July…this spring, maybe?” Who said I wasn’t an actress?
Miz Wrent shored herself up. “Not exactly sure? Hasn’t your doctor given you a due date?”
“I haven’t been to a doctor,” I said innocently.
“You haven’t been to a doctor yet?” she demanded, giving my mom the “what kind of mother are you?” look. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug.
“We haven’t found the right doctor yet,” my mom said, convincingly enough for a Tony. Behind the triumph, though, was a note of panic. Miz Wrent looked doubtful.
I smiled shyly. “Maybe you have a recommendation?”
“Of course. I’ll leave you some information when I give you the paperwork I’d like you to fill out. Now.” She gave my mom an unsure look. “I need to ask Rand some questions. Do you have any medical conditions—STDs, high blood pressure,diabetes—that could complicate delivery or endanger the health of the baby?”
“No, I’ve never—”
“Have you taken any drugs or alcohol since becoming pregnant?”
“No!”
My mother leaned forward, gobbling up my words as soon as they left my mouth.
“Would you be interested in meeting the parents in an open relationship, or would you prefer your information to be classified?”
I was turning a dangerous corner, about to step into a covered pit. “Why are you asking me all of this? What do you mean, meet the parents?”
The pieces slammed into my head like a puzzle of broken glass. The only thing to do is put it up for adoption .
I couldn’t believe my mother had done this. I hated her. I wished I could kill her. And more than anything, I wished for Xanda’s help. She had left me to grope in the darkness by myself.
Miz Wrent’s relentless gears ground to a halt. “Excuse me, Ms. Mathison. You led me to believe your daughter wanted to give this baby up for adoption.”
Adoption . I could see the path stretched out before me. I couldn’t turn back now that they knew. There would be no art, no escape if I crossed this threshold and took what they offered. My
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