The Consequences

TRIGGER WARNING: Teenage pregnancy.

Mom often preached about how I needed to take into consideration the consequences of each decision I made. She said each choice presented to me needed a decision that required action. She warned me that those actions would impact my entire future—no matter how insignificant the decision seemed. 

I never understood what she meant until I became a mother myself. My son came into this world because of a series of minor decisions I made one year that melded together and snowballed into the size of Mount Everest, setting my life’s general path in stone. 

It started with my first choice—who would I go to prom with my senior year? Two of the most popular athletes at LaSalle High wanted to take me. Without hesitation, I chose Connor Lee’s elaborate proposal over Wayne Andre’s casual invite. Both of the guys were appealing—physically and intellectually. But Wayne was a chick magnet who loved playing in the henhouse, and I wasn’t down for that drama; while Connor was more of the loyal, studious type. I decided on the safer choice.

Imagine my surprise when it was Wayne and I who ended up in bed together, even though I danced the entire night with Connor. 

Wayne’s parents had given him permission to throw the class an after prom party at his place. All Mr. and Mrs. Andre cared about was that the house was still standing by the time they returned home. 

The unchaperoned party excited the students more than the actual prom; myself included. I was dying to go, but Connor had to work a last minute shift in the morning. I pleaded for him to blow off work, and go to the party with me, but he chose to call the night quits prematurely instead. Missing the party wasn’t an option for me, so I decided to go without him. It irritated Connor to no end, but I didn’t care. How many times was I going to have prom night? I wasn’t cutting it short for some guy. 

The rumbling from the speakers’ bass had the house shaking. Everyone was smashed—literally and figuratively. The drinks were plentiful and various uppers made their rounds into curious hands. Teenagers packed the first floor to its limit, so when Wayne asked me to come to his room for a quiet talk, I jumped on the opportunity. 

Tupac posters covered every wall, various empty liquor bottles stood side by side in his bookcase, and a wooden dummy dominated one corner, with his double bed and tallboy taking up the rest of the room.

“What do you think?” 

“About what?” I asked him. My heart pumped a double beat when I saw him lock the door. I licked at my dry lips. “Your room? It’s bless.”

“No. I’m not talking about my room. I want to know what do you think?” Wayne asked as he sat on his bed, patting the space next to him. I couldn’t resist his sky-blue eyes and pouty lips. My fingers yearned to dive in his dark curls. “Hello, Jazz? Jasmin? Where’d you go?”

“Huh?” I blushed.

His mouth spread into a handsome smile that captivated my drunken soul and melted my insides. He pushed an auburn strand of hair out of my eyes. 

“What do you think?”

“About what?” My stomach unleashed a fresh set of butterflies when my leg brushed against his. 

“About tonight—about me?”

My eyebrows furrowed. 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Here. Let me show you.”

He bowed his head towards me, tilting my chin upwards. His kiss sucked the air right out of me like a vacuum. My head spun as he leaned me back against the stack of pillows. Each touch made me crave more. My hands trembled as we explored each other. We were working on the bases when we realized we didn’t have any protection.

“No,” I moaned as I tried getting my desires under control. “What are we going to do? I want you so bad.”

I gazed up at him, waiting for him to come up with a suggestion. 

“We can chance it.”

My eyes widened in horror.

“I’ll be careful. I promise.” Wayne said. He peppered kisses along my neck as he assured me with a heavy breath that tickled my ear. “Nothing bad will happen, okay?”

Maybe it was the drugs and alcohol. Maybe it was my hormones. Or maybe it was his desirable body and talented hands. Whatever it was, I wanted more.

“Jazz?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Don’t stop, but please be careful.”

He swooned in for another kiss. I surrendered myself to him completely. I forgot about everything else in the world, especially Connor Lee, as Wayne and I became one.

***

Two months later, a positive pregnancy test stared up at us, announcing Mother Nature was watching that faithful drunken night when Wayne and I decided to have unprotected sex. 

“I should have gotten the morning-after pill,” I groaned. “I thought you said you’d be careful.”

The colour flushed out of Wayne’s face as the realization hit him. Fear filled his eyes. He backed away from me and the test stick as if we had a cannon pointing at him. 

“You’ve got to take care of it,” he said with a finality that should have slammed the book shut, but one look at my face told him that my indecision would put a hinder on his rule. “Please, Jazz. You’ve got to deal with this. I can’t have a fucking kid. I’m not ready.”

“Like I am?”

“So, find out how to get an abortion.”

The words slapped me in the face—hard.

“I don’t know if I can do that, Wayne.”

“But you’re pro-choice, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, but so what?”

Wayne’s puzzled stare drilled into my head.

“Having one shouldn’t bother you then.”

I shook my head. We’d been inseparable since prom, but it was as if I were seeing Wayne for the first time. He couldn’t seriously be so daft, could he?

“Just because I’m pro-choice, doesn’t mean I’m gonna run to the abortion clinic.”

 “That makes no sense. You’re for abortions.”

“No, I’m not!” I wrung my hands at the idea. “No one is for abortions. I just think it’s a woman’s individual choice of what they want to do with their bodies. They’ll have to deal with the consequences of having the baby or having the abortion. Either way, I don’t hold it against others for whichever choice they make, unless they’re having multiple abortions because they’re just too lazy or stupid to use protection.”

“Understood.” Wayne nodded, staring down at his hands.

“But Wayne, I don’t think I can do it.”

Those weren’t the words Wayne wanted to hear. He jumped to his feet and pounded his fists into the dummy in the corner of his room. He punched until he couldn’t lift his arms anymore. 

I took the time to contemplate on what I should do. I didn’t think either of us were ready for kids. Wayne was planning on going to trade school while I attended college. All of our plans were history—unless I had the abortion. But could I live with knowing I ended a life? Or the beginnings of one, anyway. 

“I need time to decide,” I said once Wayne finished abusing his fists. “I’m just not sure.”

“Well, hurry and make up your mind. Each day that passes only makes it worse.”

***

It took several days to muster the courage to tell Mom about the pregnancy. She wasn’t much help. After giving me shit about not using protection, and spewing lectures about sexually transmitted diseases and teenaged pregnancy, she told me she would support me in whatever I chose to do. She said nothing more on the subject, other than to let her know which route I chose to walk. 

***

“I’ve made my decision, Wayne.”

His breath was shallow as he pressed his fingers to his eyes, waiting to hear what I wanted to do. 

“I’m having it, Wayne.”

“What?”

“I’m having the baby.”

His body tensed. His face contorted into different shapes. His voice disappeared, as inaudible as it was invisible. He didn’t need to speak, though. His composure hung, defeated by the impending doom of losing his freedom.

“I can’t go through with an abortion,” I said, taking his face in my shaking hands. He brushed them aside with his chin. I tried making eye contact with him, but he kept avoiding my gaze. “I’m so sorry, babe, but I can’t.”

He said nothing. He simply left my house without looking back. He had come to a decision, too. I didn’t have to guess what he decided. His gait said it all as I stared at his backside while he walked away.

***

When Connor found out Wayne broke up with me because I was pregnant, he sought me out immediately. My belly was as round as a balloon by then.

“What the hell, Jasmine?” he asked, shaking her by the arms. He stopped when I yelped, but he didn’t let go. “How could you be so stupid?”

His fingers dug into my arms.

“Connor, let go.” I pushed him away, raising my hand for him to stop before he approached me again. I looked around the restaurant, checking to see who noticed his outburst. “Would you stop making a spectacle? It’s not like we did it on purpose.”

“I knew nothing good would come of you being with him.”

My face grew warm as I thought of all the lonely nights I spent crying silently so Mom wouldn’t hear. I decided to let her figure out on her own time that not only was I a pregnant teenager, but a single, pregnant teenager. She probably already knew, but I couldn’t face the look of disappointment that might appear once she realized how badly I messed everything up. 

“It’s none of your business,” I told Connor, sidestepping him. He followed me. 

“But I want to make you my business. I always have. You know that, Jasmine. Forget Wayne Andre. He doesn’t deserve you. I could provide for you. Take care of you. You and the baby.”

The smell of curry wafted through the air, turning my stomach. Between the disagreeable scent and my growing anxiety, my nerves were shot. I had to get out of there. I had to get away from him. 

“I can’t deal with this right now. Connor, seriously. I have enough going on without you trying to take Wayne’s place.”

“It never should have been Wayne’s to begin with. Where is he, Jasmine? Where’s your boyfriend? I don’t see him. Huh? Where is he? I'm the only one fighting for you.” 

Getting creeped out, I came to a halt in the quiet hallway. I knew I had two decisions to make. First, I had to choose whether or not to accept Connor’s offer to become a family—but I already knew the answer to that one. Second, I had to decide on how to turn him down with the least drama and hurt feelings possible. 

“Jasmine, he’s nothing. He’ll never be half the man I am.”

I don’t know what came over me, but his words infuriated me. Perhaps it was the hormonal rocket ship ride I’d been on the first and second trimester. Or maybe it was that he was so smug. But I’m sure the real reason was because he was putting down my baby’s daddy. Only I could do that.

“Jasmine.”

“Connor. Look, it’s never going to happen.”

“What?” he asked. His face fell. “Why not?”

“I still have feelings for Wayne. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.”

“Maybe you’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking fine. Move on, Connor.”

“Are you sure? You’ll be all alone.”

“That’s my choice, Connor. Now, excuse me, but I’m going to be late for work.”

He watched me leave with slumped shoulders and rainbowed lips void of colour. It took everything in me not to turn around and apologize for hurting him. I had nothing against the guy, but once I got to know the two of them better, Wayne was my only choice. 

***

Choosing the right road to take was an impossible task when the decision would determine how your entire life played out. Mom was right. Each choice lead to a series of consequences. It was exhausting. The next decision would affect not only my life, but that of my baby’s: do I keep the baby or give it up for adoption? 

My latest doctor’s appointment wiped out any inkling I had of it all being a dream when I saw how defined the baby’s features were. I didn’t want to know the sex, but I knew deep down it was a boy. Dwayne. My little Dwayne. I smiled as I wiped the cold goop from my belly. 

What was the best thing for Dwayne? If I gave him up, would he be adopted by loving parents, or complete monsters? If I kept him, would I be able to provide a good life for him? Or would strangers do a better job? And what about Wayne? Would he help? Or would he continue to be a ghost?

I had a lot to think about with the sand slipping through the hourglass. 

“What am I going to do?”

***

When the time came, I chose the epidural. I was never good with pain, especially this level of pain, and the labour was washing over me in waves of it. 

I also chose to let Wayne into the delivery room when he surprised everyone by showing up at the hospital after I suffered through eight hours of contractions. He sat in the corner of the room, leg shaking, thumb in mouth as he ripped at a hangnail. His eyes were distant. He barely noticed me. I couldn’t have been more insulted. 

“Time to push.”

I spread my legs apart as far as they would go on the stirrups, performed my breathing exercises, and pushed on command. It took another fifteen minutes, but with a lot of shrieking on my part, and supportive murmurs from Wayne, Dwayne came screaming into the world.

I glanced at Wayne. He never looked happier.

***

“So, what are you going to do?” he asked me when we were alone with the baby.

“What do you mean?” I asked Wayne, struggling to focus on him. “Do about what?”

“Are—are you gonna keep him?”

“Why? What business is it of yours?” I glared at him. “Don’t think I forgot that you’ve been gone for over six months!”

“I had no choice.”

“Don’t say that. You have no idea what no choice means. You’re a white guy in the twenty-first century. Your choices are still plentiful.”

“Hey,” Wayne said, softly. “Would you look at me? Please, Jazz.”

I sucked my teeth before glaring at him with my arms crossed and my bottom lip pouting out as I sulked. 

“Look at me.”

“You were gone. Just gone.”

“I was making a future for us. I still am, if you want it.”

“Huh?”

“I was in Ottawa studying welding. It’s one of the trades I wanted to work in and this school had a six-month course.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked. My head was still fuzzy from the day’s adventure. 

“It means that I have my welding license now and the money will roll in soon.”

I stiffened. Why was he telling me this? What did I care if he would have money? I wasn’t going to hold my breath, waiting for him to help pay my bills. I took care of me and mine just fine by myself. It was right then that I decided for certain that I could never give Dwayne up. He was mine. 

“I’m happy for you,” I said, but the joy didn’t reflect in my voice. 

“Happy for us—depending on what you’ve decided.”

“On what I’ve decided?”

“Your mom told me you still hadn’t made up your mind for sure if you were going to give the baby—”

“Dwayne.”

“—Dwayne up for adoption. I don’t want to influence you in any way, so I need to know what you’ve decided.”

“Why?” I didn’t know why I was being so stubborn.

“Because I’ve talked it over with my sister. If you don’t want to raise the baby—Dwayne, if you don’t want to raise Dwayne, then my sister and I will until you’re ready to take care of him yourself.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. Tears poured down my cheeks.

“And what if I want to keep him?”

“I’d ask if you want to keep me, too?”

“We can be like a real family?”

“Exactly.”

I grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss—a gentle one, so Dwayne wouldn’t be disturbed while he slept beside me. 

“Are we seriously going to do this?”

“It’s your decision, Jazz. It always has been.”

Choices, both big and small, pop up at every turn, and I’ve gotten a lot better at making decisions, but nothing could compare to the year before Dwayne came into our lives.

Mom was right. She always told me each choice needed a decision that required action. But what she never told me was that my actions would affect others and that other people’s decisions would affect me as well. 

Wayne’s decision to stick with us, and my choice to let him, was the best decision for my son. He’d grow up with a plethora of choices in life, love in his heart, and good role models to teach him how to make his own path.

It was the best consequence I could ask for.