Immaculate, page 28
“I don’t even know her last name,” I said, looking up at my mom as Katie disappeared down the sidewalk. “I’ll never know if her mom gets better.”
“You did the right thing, sweetie. You did what you could do.” Mom sighed, tugging me gently toward the door. “It’s out of our hands now.”
• • •
“Everything looked great in the exam room today,” Dr. Keller said, “perfectly normal and on schedule.” I sat up straighter in my chair, trying to focus on what she was saying, but my thoughts were still with Katie. I considered calling my mom in from the waiting room, worried that I probably wouldn’t remember anything about the visit without her listening in.
“One more week and your baby will be full-term, Mina. Strange to think about, isn’t it? It feels like just a few weeks ago that you first came in here, so scared and confused. You hardly even seem like the same girl. Or the same woman, I should say.”
I nodded, still only half listening.
“Mina?” Dr. Keller leaned over her desk to stare at me straight on. “What’s going on? I guess that’s a silly question, though. I’m sure it’s been an interesting month, with everything that’s been happening after that video of yours.”
“Interesting,” I echoed, staring back at her. I smiled. “Interesting is probably the best word for it.”
When Jesse’s video went out to the news circuit, it was like a brilliant, blinding comet had burst from the roof of my house—fanning out its shimmering trail across the country, around the world. News stations played clips during prime-time broadcasts, the whole video could be found everywhere online, and people—well, people certainly watched. People were engrossed. The Virgin Mina website and online network was stronger and more active than ever, and the page was quickly becoming less of a trashy high school tabloid and more of a streamlined public forum for critics of all ages. I had my detractors, yes, the cynics, the disbelievers, and the angry zealots. People were still calling my house, still shoving notes in my locker, in our mailbox. People were still posting cruel accusations and compromising pictures that had been taken of me in private, unsuspecting moments. Even some of the more bored, indifferent kids at school had started getting angry with me now. Not because they cared about why or how I’d gotten pregnant, but because—as I’d heard one stranger put it while ranting to friends at her locker—I’d become a “total media whore who would do anything to stay in the spotlight.”
But . . .
There were other sorts of outspoken people surfacing, too, people who were speaking out not against me, but against those who were pointing their fingers and publicly flagellating me. They saw me as a human being who deserved privacy and the right to live my own life. And there were also people like Katie. People of all different ages, religions, and nationalities who could accept the unexplainable, open their minds to new possibilities. They were people who wanted hope. People who needed hope.
And I, somehow, had become their source.
“You’ve heard,” I said, “that I have ‘followers’ now, I’m sure. I saw one of them on my way in, actually. That’s why I’ve been so . . . distracted.”
She nodded, and I kept going, suddenly needing to talk.
“Some days I don’t know who I’m more scared of, Dr. Keller: the people who hate me or the people who claim to worship me. I got a letter the other day from a Muslim woman in Indonesia. Written in Arabic, so we had to take it to the police to translate. A woman in Indonesia knows about me. And she hates me, too, according to the letter. Told me all about how this is not ‘the Day of Resurrection,’ and I’ll pay the price for all my lies in the afterlife. It was nothing I hadn’t heard before, but still . . . she lives across the world. It’s absurd to even think about her knowing about my life, let alone caring about it.”
“That’s so scary and so upsetting, Mina,” Dr. Keller said, reaching over the desk to hold my hands in hers. “I can’t begin to imagine how you feel when you read something like that.”
“It sounds crazy, but I’m almost unfazed by people like her now. But these others, the ones who seem to worship me . . . Sometimes I’m terrified, Dr. Keller. I’ve been getting all these strange letters and e-mails—begging for locks of my hair, my clothing, anything I’ve touched. They all seem so desperate—so obsessed. Obsessed. With me. It’s entirely surreal. I worry that some of them will do whatever it takes to feel close to me. To feel saved by me, blessed somehow. Which is ridiculous. I’m still only me, Dr. Keller. Only Mina. How can I save anyone? I’m just fighting to save myself.”
We sat in silence, the ticking of the clock above her desk the only sound in the room. She still held my hands tightly, which left the tears dripping down her cheeks unstopped.
“Dr. Keller,” I said, eager to make the moment feel lighter, easier again. “Dr. Keller . . . I’m sure this probably isn’t orthodox, and if you’re not comfortable with it or you’re busy, I completely understand, no pressure at all. But my mom’s having a little baby shower for me this Saturday, and I’d love it if you came. It’s nothing big, just a few friends and family, and of course you don’t have to bring me anything. Any gifts, I mean. It would just be nice to have you there. But like I said . . .”
“Mina,” she said, laughing as she let go of my hands. “You’re right. It’s not traditional for me to go to patients’ baby showers. But I want to be there. And I think for you, Mina Dietrich, I can make an exception.” She lowered her head and lifted her brows, shifting her eyes left to right. “Just don’t tell on me, okay?”
“Secret’s safe.” I grinned at her as I grabbed at the edge of the desk to haul myself up from the chair. “Wow. It’ll be amazing to actually have any kind of balance again. I feel like a fat, clumsy penguin, waddling instead of walking. I could accidentally tip and roll over at any second.”
“Patience, Mina. Soon enough you’ll be carrying that round bump in your arms instead.”
I closed my eyes for a second and let myself really picture it—my newborn, wrapped in blankets and nestled in my arms. I could almost feel him or her, the warm weight pressing against my chest, the sweet, milky smell of baby filling my nose. “Soon enough.” I sighed, turning to wave as I reached for the door handle. “Noon on Saturday, then?”
“Noon on Saturday.”
• • •
I hadn’t wanted a shower and had adamantly insisted against one, in fact. But my mom was determined, and she made a valid point, tacky as it may have sounded: I needed whatever donations I could get. And so it was settled. I would be having a baby shower. It was a small crowd, anyway, just my aunt Vera and Lucy, Hannah and her mom, Dr. Keller, Pastor Lewis’s wife, and a few of my mom’s closest friends and coworkers who had supported her throughout the whole ordeal—regardless of what they actually believed or didn’t believe about my explanation. They were all at least polite to me, and that was enough.
I was nervous, though, despite the small guest list, and I posed and squinted in front of the mirror for a solid half hour, changing back and forth between three different maternity dresses my mom had bought for the occasion. I wanted to look casual but capable, mature but pretty in that glowing soon-to-be-mom kind of way. I finally settled on a dark green sweater dress with an empire waist that seemed to be just the right balance of subtle and showy—classy but still proud of the gigantic bump I couldn’t have hidden even if I’d wanted to.
I was still contemplating myself in the mirror when I heard a knock at the front door. I figured it was Aunt Vera, coming over early to help my mom set out the food and finish with any last-minute decorations. I didn’t pay much attention to the quiet voices down below, at least not until I heard footsteps on the stairs.
They stopped just beyond my door, and whoever it was stayed there, still and silent, hesitating. I could hear myself breathing, could almost believe that I heard them breathing, too, from across the closed door. My heart started racing, which was ridiculous, admittedly, because it was probably just my aunt, maybe Hannah, even, just coming up to say hello.
I stepped back from the mirror and yanked at the knob, freezing when I saw the face, the eyes, staring back at me. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t use my lungs, my lips.
“Mina,” Izzy said. My name sounded so familiar on her lips—so normal and natural and wonderful.
“What are you doing here?” I was surprised that I did still have lips after all, and a mouth and a throat and vocal cords that functioned. One by one, piece by piece, my body started coming back to me, and I could actually feel what was happening—feel all the confused and angry and bizarrely happy sensations humming through me.
“Can we talk?” Her voice was quiet, almost shy. I studied her face, trying to relearn all the intricate details I’d missed for so long, and was surprised to see the dark circles under her red, sleepy-looking eyes.
“You want to talk now?” I took a deep breath and pressed my hands to my belly to center myself. “Today’s my baby shower, Izzy. Not now. I can’t argue with you now.”
“I’m not here to argue, Mina. I’m really not, I promise.”
“Then why are you here?” I was proud of how strong I sounded. A few months ago I would have already been fighting back tears, but Dr. Keller had been right—I had changed. I’d learned to be tough, to stand up for myself and what I believed in. I’d learned that the people who couldn’t accept us didn’t deserve my tears.
Izzy stepped farther into the room and closed the door before I could move to stop her.
“I’m here to say that I’m sorry, Meen.”
I was Meen again, not even Mina. As if nothing had changed, and we hadn’t spent nearly the last six months without each other.
“I’m sorry for so many things, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry that I didn’t stick by you from day one like Hannah did. You wouldn’t lie, not to us, unless you had a really good reason to, and I should have respected that. I should have just been there for you and figured the rest out as we went along. The fact that I abandoned you when you were going through something like this makes me feel like the absolute shittiest friend ever. You deserved so much more than that. And I realize I can never make up for it. I can never go back and support you through the last six months. But I can help you now. I can help you every day after, because I want to be in your life again, Meen. I need to be in your life.” Her shoulders started shaking, and she buried her head in her hands.
I felt stuck to the floor, like I couldn’t run to her side even if I wanted to. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to. Not yet. Not that easily.
She put up her hand, wiping at her dripping eyes with the other. “I’m not done yet. That’s just part one.” She laughed, but the sound turned into more of a twisting, broken sob that knocked away at my already weakening defenses.
“I know you saw me on New Year’s Eve with Nate, and I haven’t been able to forgive myself since. I have no excuse for what I did—it was disgusting and unacceptable of me, and my only explanation is that he was really all I had at the beginning, after I first lost you and Han. Or after I first walked away from you and Han, I see now. But he was the only person I could talk to at the beginning, before everyone else knew. And once everyone did know, he was still the only one that I wanted to talk to about all of it. Do you think it was easy for me to watch Kyle Baker and all his pathetic followers treat you like that? I couldn’t stand to hear what people were saying about you, and for the record, neither could Nate. When he first found out that Arielle had started the website—”
“Arielle?” I interrupted, not knowing if I wanted to laugh or cry at the revelation. “Arielle Fowler? She’s the evil mastermind behind the Virgin Mina website?”
Izzy bit down on her lip, her eyes flickering away from me. “I’m sorry. I thought you would have heard about that by now. Or guessed, at least. Nate was furious at her, which is ironic since we all knew she probably did it just to make you look even worse in his eyes, like that would somehow make him more likely to pick her. But that certainly backfired. Maybe being a malicious bitch attracts someone like Kyle Baker, but Nate’s too good for that shit.” She sighed. “He did love you, Mina. And he’s not a bad guy, despite everything.” She paused, those last words hanging in the air between us. “Anyway, so Arielle started the website, but a lot of their crowd had a hand in it after a while. It wasn’t just her. I heard that Sara Fritz helped her with a lot of the tech work, too. I guess she and her mom aren’t so different after all. Or maybe Sara just didn’t know how to say no to a popular girl who was giving her any kind of attention.”
I nodded, feeling strangely indifferent about finally knowing who was responsible. It wasn’t as if I was surprised, and it wasn’t as if it mattered. Not really. This was never just about one person turning on me. It was much, much bigger than that. Arielle was one tiny piece of the problem. And Sara—I just felt bad for Sara. I remembered the panicked look in her eyes that day she had bumped into me. Growing up with a mom like Tana, she probably didn’t know how to be anything but obedient.
“Nate was really struggling, Mina, and once he started seeing you and Jesse together, and everyone kept beating him down saying that he was a pushover for not stepping up and doing anything about it . . . well, it pushed him over the edge. It pushed us over the edge, I guess. I went over to his house that day after the fight with Jesse to talk him through some things, and . . . and it just happened. It never meant anything, not to either of us, I don’t think. It just made us feel less sad somehow about not having you anymore. I know this sounds odd, but it filled at least a tiny piece of the hole that you’d left in our lives. It’s over now, though, whatever it was. I ended it right after New Year’s. Right after I saw you.”
She looked back up at me, her dark eyes pleading.
“So why now, Iz?” I asked. “What’s changed?”
Izzy shook her head, tears still running down her cheeks. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen Izzy cry—a broken leg in the middle of a soccer field, and a stick to the head in a fierce game of field hockey. This fragile and exhausted-looking Izzy breaking down on my bed was completely new to me.
“I watch the video every night, you know. Every night, Meen. And every time I watch it, I end up sobbing, for you, for your family. For me, because I ran away from all of it and I’ve been afraid that you’d never let me back in, especially not after New Year’s. I knew all along how hard it must be for you, but I was convinced that it was just as hard for me, too, to go through senior year without you and Han. But then I saw Jesse’s video, and I felt like such a selfish, stupid child. I hadn’t ever really thought about how hard it was for you, how different life was not just for you but for Gracie and your parents . . . I’ve wanted to apologize every day, Mina. I just didn’t know how. I was hurt, too, you know, after everything you accused me of that day on my porch. That was some pretty cold stuff you said, and it took me time to move past it all. To realize you said it because you were angry and not because you really meant it. Or at least I hope you didn’t.” She took a shaky breath and exhaled, struggling to compose herself.
I looked down, my stomach tight with shame as I replayed through everything I’d said on that terrible morning. “I should never have said those things, Iz. They were ugly and mean and untrue. It just . . . it made me feel better to take you down with me. And I feel completely awful admitting that to you. I feel awful admitting that to me, too.”
“It’s behind us,” she said, reaching out to lift my chin up, forcing our eyes to meet. I saw the truth there, saw that it was behind us, just like that. “When Hannah e-mailed me about the baby shower this week, I was shocked to see a message from her, and even more shocked when I read it. But I guess she still had hope for me. Hope for all of us. So . . . here I am. Thank God your mom actually let me in the door. Not that I would expect anything less from Mrs. D. She’s been pretty amazing through all this, huh? They all have, except maybe your dad at the beginning. But it seems like he came to his senses, long before I did, anyway.”
I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at that. “They have been pretty amazing. And so has Hannah. And Jesse. But that’s a long story for another time.”
“I was dying to know more about him,” she said, grinning back at me. “He seems like a really great guy, Meen. Not that Nate wasn’t great for you, at least in his great Nate way, but Jesse . . . Jesse seems pretty special, at least from what I’ve seen. And trust me, that’s more than a month of watching his eloquent speech every night, so I know what I’m talking about.”
“Yeah, Jesse is definitely special,” I said, a happy glow at just the thought of him beaming down on me, warming me from the inside out—until I remembered all the ways I’d hurt him, all the words I could never undo. But Izzy being right here, right now, gave me faith that even the most brutal, bone-deep wounds could be healed, that the scars they left could strengthen us rather than tear us apart. “It’s funny, you know, how, before all this happened, I would have bet everything that Nate and I would be together forever. Forever.” I laughed, the absurd permanence of the word sounding so silly and useless to me now.
“But when it came down to it, when I really needed him to trust me, he couldn’t do it. My promises weren’t enough for him. But Jesse—Jesse barely knew me at all, and he still had faith in me. Jesse took a chance. He was willing to believe in the impossible. And Nate will never be able to do that. It’s not his fault, really, that he couldn’t trust me. He’s wired to only see the things that he can explain, the proven, the rational, the expected. And maybe that’s how I used to be, too. But that’s not my world anymore. My world is a whole lot more gray than that. And I’m okay with it. I kind of like the gray better.”
“I want to live in that gray world with you,” Izzy said quietly, her face so solemn and serious, she suddenly looked like a much older, wiser Isabelle.
