Under The Clerk - Beyond the Law

“No sir,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. He could have thrown the book at me, but instead, he decided to be lenient.

“Report to the probation office and they’ll direct you from there. I don’t want to see you in front of me again, got it?”

“Yes sir.”

“This court is adjourned,” he says, banging his gavel.

“All rise,” the bailiff says, and I do so. The judge leaves his bench and the bailiff dismisses us.

“Thank you so much, Anna,” I say, extending my hand to her.

“You’re welcome, Taryn. Let’s get you over to probation.”

Over at the probation office, I learn that there are so many things I can’t do while I’m on probation, not that I’ve ever done most of them, but there’s something about being told you can’t do something that makes me want to do them all. No wonder so many people violate their probation. It’s a system set up for failure and yet they act surprised when people fail. That won’t be me though.

I thought the nausea I’ve felt all day, and really for the last week, would go away once I was sentenced, but it hasn’t. I duck into the bathroom and lose the contents of my stomach. Ugh, there is nothing I hate more than being sick, except peopling. I set up a payment plan with Cora, the clerk I’ll be dealing with, and step outside the courthouse. I breathe in deeply and head to the pharmacy for some anti-nausea medicine. I went almost ten whole minutes without thinking of Beck, but now that I am alone, he’s all that I can think about. As I walk down the aisle for stomach ailments, I pass by the pregnancy tests and stop in my tracks. The thought hits me like a bolt of lightning.

Son of a bitch, I think grabbing the first pink and purple package I see. I hightail it to the cash register, paying for my purchase. When I get home, I am glad to see my mom isn’t home. I rush inside, getting the package open and doing my business. I set the stick on the counter and wash my hands. I fold all my towels again while I wait for the results, just for something to keep me occupied. I look over at the test and glaringly the word PREGNANT stares back at me. Immediately, I put my hands on my belly. Tears spring to my eyes and immense happiness like I’ve never felt washes over me. I am going to be a mom. I can’t believe it, really. For a split second, my happiness is dwarfed by sadness. Beck isn’t going to know his child. I tried to find him but was unable too.

I had gone back to the motel where Beck was staying after two weeks. I missed him so much. But he had checked out and didn’t leave a forwarding address. I am going to have that man’s baby and I don’t know where he is. My life has become a soap opera. I quickly toss the test and put my pajamas on, getting into bed.

Tonight, I will wallow in my misery. Tomorrow, I will put my big girl panties on and deal with this head-on. First on the agenda is making a doctor’s appointment. I wasn’t a strong woman before, but I will be now because it’s not just me anymore. My baby needs me to be strong. I can’t be a panicked mess every time someone talks to me or I have to buy diapers at three in the morning. Moms have to roll with the punches. I think of my own mom. I need to thank her for taking on all of my problems and making me feel like everything was going to be okay.

In the morning, I head over to my main house. My mom is watching the news, she turns and looks at me.

“You’re pregnant,” she says, like there’s a fucking sign around my neck. She just goes back to her coffee like it’s nothing.

“Are you a witch or something?” I ask, setting the kettle to boil.

“No. You look like shit. Early pregnancy ain’t pretty despite what you see on TV.” I sigh,

“I am. I found out last night.”

“You can’t handle this, Taryn. You won’t be able to tolerate all the changes. All the ways a child makes things difficult. The way they don’t do anything the way you expect you to. And your body, oh God, you’ll hate that.”

“I can,” I say, praying that’s the truth, and trying not to think about what she’s saying.

“I’ll help you,” she says. I know she means well, but I don’t want that.

“Thanks, Mom but this is something I need to do for myself.”

“I know, but I’ll be here if you need me,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “My baby is all grown up.”