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After Mary Elizabeth dropped me off, I went into the house and found my sister crying in the basement. This was a different kind of crying. It kind of frightened me. I talked very quiet and slow.

“Are you okay?”

“Leave me alone, Charlie.”

“No, really. What’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I could try.”

“That’s a laugh. That’s really a laugh.”

“Do you want me to wake up Mom and Dad then?”

“No.”

“Well, maybe they could—”

“CHARLIE! SHUT UP! OKAY?! JUST SHUT UP!”

That’s when she really started crying. I didn’t want to make her feel worse, so I turned to leave her alone. That’s when my sister started hugging me. She didn’t say anything. She just hugged me tight and wouldn’t let go. So, I hugged her back. It was weird, too, because I’ve never hugged my sister. Not when she wasn’t forced to anyway. After a while, she calmed down a bit and let go. She took a deep breath and brushed off the hair that was sticking to her face.

That’s when she told me she was pregnant.

I would tell you about the rest of the night, but I honestly don’t remember much about it. It’s all a very sad daze. I do know that her boyfriend said it wasn’t his baby, but my sister knew that it was. And I do know that he broke up with her right there at the dance. My sister hasn’t told anybody else about it because she doesn’t want it to get around. The only people who know are me, her, and him. I’m not allowed to tell anyone we know. Not anyone. Not ever.

I told my sister that after a while, she probably couldn’t hide it, but she said she wouldn’t let it go that far. Since she was eighteen, she didn’t need Mom or Dad’s permission. All she needed was someone to be with her next Saturday at the clinic. And that person was me.

“It’s lucky I got my license now.”

I said that to make her laugh. But she didn’t.

Love always,

Charlie

*

February 23, 1992

Dear friend,

I was sitting in the waiting room of the clinic. I had been there for an hour or so. I don’t remember exactly how long. Bill had given me a new book to read, but I just couldn’t concentrate on it. I guess it makes sense why not.

Then, I tried to read some magazines, but again, I just couldn’t. It wasn’t so much that they mentioned what the people were eating. It was all the magazine covers. Each one had a smiling face, and every time it was a woman on the cover, she was showing her cleavage. I wondered if those women wanted to do that to look pretty or if it was just part of the job. I wondered if they had a choice or not if they wanted to be successful. I just couldn’t get that thought out of my mind.

I could almost see the photo shoot and the actress or model going to eat a “light lunch” with her boyfriend afterward. I could see him asking her about her day, and how she wouldn’t think too much of it, or maybe if it was her first magazine cover, how she would be very excited because she was starting to become famous. I could see the magazine on the newsstands, and a lot of anonymous eyes looking at it, and how some people would think it was very important. And then how a girl like Mary Elizabeth would be very angry about the actress or model showing her cleavage along with all the other actresses and models doing the same thing, while some photographer like Craig would just look at the quality of the photograph. Then, I thought there would be some men who would buy the magazine and masturbate to it. And I wondered what the actress or her boyfriend thought about that, if they did at all. And then I thought that it was about time for me to stop thinking because it wasn’t doing my sister any good.

That’s when I started thinking about my sister.

I thought about the time when she and her friends painted my fingernails, and how that was okay because my brother wasn’t there. And the time she let me use her dolls to make up plays or let me watch whatever I wanted to watch on TV. And when she started becoming a “young lady,” and no one was allowed to look at her because she thought she was fat. And how she really wasn’t fat. And how she was actually very pretty. And how different her face looked when she realized boys thought she was pretty. And how different her face looked the first time she really liked a boy who was not on a poster on her wall. And how her face looked when she realized she was in love with that boy. And then I wondered how her face would look when she came out from behind those doors.

My sister was the one who told me where babies come from. My sister was also the one who laughed when I immediately asked her where babies go to.

When I thought that, I started to cry. But I couldn’t let anyone see me because if they did, they might not let me drive her home, and they might call our parents. And I couldn’t let that happen because my sister was counting on me, and this was the first time anyone ever counted on me for anything. When I realized that this was the first time I cried since I made my aunt Helen the promise not to cry unless it was for something important, I had to go outside because I couldn’t hide it from anyone anymore.

I must have been in the car for a long time because eventually my sister found me there. I was chain-smoking cigarettes and crying still. My sister knocked on the window. I rolled it down. She looked at me with this curious expression. Then, her curiosity turned to anger.

“Charlie, are you smoking?!”

She was so mad. I can’t tell you how mad she was.

“I can’t believe you’re smoking!”

That’s when I stopped crying. And started laughing. Because of all the things she could have said right after she got out of there, she picked my smoking. And she got angry about it. And I knew if my sister was angry, then her face wouldn’t be that different. And she would be okay.

“I’m going to tell Mom and Dad, you know?”

“No, you’re not.” God, I couldn’t stop laughing.

When my sister thought about it for a second, I think she figured out why she wouldn’t tell Mom or Dad. It’s like she suddenly remembered where we were and what had just happened and how crazy our whole conversation was considering all that. Then, she started laughing.

But the laughing made her feel sick, so I had to get out of the car and help her into the backseat. I had already set up the pillow and blanket for her because we figured it was probably best for her to sleep it off a little in the car before we went home.

Just before she fell asleep, she said, “Well, if you’re going to smoke, crack the window at least.”

Which made me start laughing again.

“Charlie, smoking. I can’t believe it.”

Which made me laugh harder, and I said, “I love you.”

And my sister said, “I love you, too. Just stop it with the laughing already.”

Eventually, my laughing turned into the occasional chuckle, and then it just stopped. I looked back and saw that my sister was asleep. So, I started the car and turned on the heater, so she would be warm. That’s when I started reading the book Bill gave me. It’s Walden by Henry David Thoreau, which is my brother’s girlfr’s favorite book, so I was very excited to read it.

When the sun went down, I put my smoking pamphlet on the page where I stopped reading and started driving home. I stopped a few blocks from our house to wake up my sister and put the blanket and pillow in the trunk. We pulled into the driveway. We got out. We went inside. And we heard our mother and father’s voices from the top of the stairs.