Page 127 of Never After Us
But there’s probably a heartbeat growing somewhere inside me, and I’m not sure if the fear I feel is for myself or for this tiny life that didn’t ask to be here.
I don’t know how to carry this alone.
ChapterForty-Six
February 14, 1968
Valentine’s Day.
The girls were giggling in the halls, trading cards dusted in glitter and sugary promises.I held the ones they handed me, smiled when I was supposed to, but everything inside me felt older than my body—like I’d lived a hundred years since he left.
I wish I could tell someone the truth.
I wish ...I wish he were here.
My hands shook the whole walk home, and when Mom mentioned the yellow ribbon tied to the Wells’ porch rail ...something inside me dropped.Mrs.Wells said he’s “missing in action.”Just unaccounted for, Mom insists.Everyone is praying for him.
I tried not to cry.I tried to pretend those words didn’t heat my soul and leaving an emptiness I can barely breathe around.My parents don’t know about us, and well, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
We were supposed to have time—letters, promises, a someday to hold on to.
But this is what’s happening instead, and worse, I have to pretend that I’m okay with him missing and with me ...I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.
ChapterForty-Seven
February 27, 1968
Mama askedtoday if I’ve been eating enough.Daddy asked why I’m always tired.Lana and Lisa whispered upstairs when they thought I couldn’t hear.
It’s only a matter of time before they know.
I tried to picture telling them, but the moment collapses before it even forms.Daddy’s anger.Mama’s disappointment.The arguments.The shame.The pressure.The ...what am I supposed to do?
I am not ready for any of it.
Sometimes I press my hand to my stomach when no one is watching.I imagine a small life growing, unaware of all the fear surrounding it.
It shouldn’t feel beautiful, but sometimes it does.
And then the guilt follows.
And then the fear returns.
ChapterForty-Eight
March 2, 1968
I’m runningout of time.
My dresses fit differently.My body is shifting in ways I can’t hide much longer.I walk with my arms crossed, hoping no one will notice.
The world feels divided now—before and after—and I’m trapped between them.
I can’t shake the dread curling at the base of my spine.Something terrible is coming.I don’t know what to do.Worse, I don’t know who I’m going to become.
But I know this much:
I’m scared.
