Paullina Simons - A Song in the Daylight

Che had already met Lorenzo by the time her mother died. So now she lived in Parañaque, without her mother, hiring out her passionate protesting, waiting for Lorenzo to propose and give her a baby, not necessarily in that order.

Che came to her house one morning. I’m in trouble, Lar. I’m in deep deep trouble. Larissa was a senior, Che a junior. Seventeen, sixteen, going on too adult. I’m pregnant .

No. Are you sure?

I’m positive .

Oh, please no. Are you sure?

I’m completely positive. I’m two weeks late. I’m never late. What am I going to do?

Don’t worry. We’ll fix it. Whatever happens .

No, you don’t understand .

I do. It’s bad. But it’ll be okay .

Lar, it’s the single worst thing that can happen to me. Honestly. What am I going to tell my mother? She’ll kill me .

No. Your mother? Never. She’s a sweetheart. And why would you tell her?

Oh, Larissa. My family is not your family. I tell my mother things .

No, not this. Especially not this .

Well, what am I going to do? She’s going to have to know eventually .

Why? I’m serious. Why will she have to know? We’ll go to Planned Parenthood. They’ll help us. You’ll see. Your mom will never have to know .

Planned Parenthood costs money .

Don’t worry. I’ll … I’ll help you. But we have to go there quick. Get a test .

Lar, a test? And then what? I can’t have … I can’t do it. Don’t you understand? I’m not like you. I’m Catholic. I can’t do it .

Well, what are you going to do? You gonna be Catholic, or you gonna be smart?

Why can’t I be both?

Choose, Che .

I can’t. All I know is I can’t have this baby. But also, I can’t not have this baby .

That’s what I’m saying. I’ll get the money together .

How much you think it’s going to be?

Over three hundred dollars .

Che cried. Where am I going to get that kind of money?

I’ll give it to you. I have it. I have it saved up .

How am I going to pay you back?

Don’t worry .

How did you save that much money?

Little by little. Dollar by dollar. Took me four years .

Oh, Larissa .

It’s okay. That’s what it’s for. I didn’t know what I was saving for. But I knew I would need it for something .

I can’t take your money .

To save yourself?

Save myself for the short term, burn in hell for eternity .

Che, you’re not going to burn in hell. Who told you this? Larissa appraised Che, contemplated her. I didn’t know you and Maury went that far, she finally said .

Che wouldn’t look at Larissa. We didn’t. With a fake-casual shrug at Larissa’s startled face. Oh, last month, during spring break, remember Nuño?

No, I don’t remember Nuño!

Yeah, me neither. It wasn’t meant to be. Just a fun few hours .

Maury was Che’s boyfriend, her high school sweetheart. They were going to the junior prom next month. Yet there it was .

Oh .

I know. I told you it’s no good .

You can’t tell this to your mother, Che. You can never tell her .

She’ll know .

She won’t .

God will know, said Che, bending over her hands, on the stoop of Larissa’s quiet Piermont house. They were going to be late for school half an hour ago. It was a sunny morning .

You’ll be fine, said Larissa. You’ll be okay. You’ll see. You can’t have a baby at sixteen. That’s all there is to it. There’ll be plenty of time to have a baby. But we’ve got big plans after high school, after college. We’re going to travel the world. We’re going to go live in Rome and teach English as a second language. Then Greece. We’re going to become tour guides in France, remember?

I remember. But Che was slumped into a fetal position, her backpack on the concrete steps next to her. She looked like a backpack herself, dark and small and curled up. Larissa sat down next to her, patting her back. How could Che have been so careless when she knew what it would mean? When the decision was utterly unbearable, how could she not have taken every precaution and then some? They went to school. And Larissa carried her books, and laughed in the hall, and pretended that everything was as it always was. Only Che’s pallid face by the lockers in between periods was Larissa’s ruthless reminder that nothing was the same .

Later they went to New York University together, where Larissa, a theater major, met Ezra and Evelyn and Jared, while Che, an undeclared major, got busy with her causes: saving the spotted owl, saving the whale—and then her dad had a heart attack and died, and she left the U.S. for good. The girls never did get to Rome or Greece or become tour guides in France.

Nowadays, without Che, Larissa had lunch with Maggie most Tuesdays, and twice a month with her friend Bo, who worked at the Met in the city, and once a month on Thursday she drove to Hoboken to see Evelyn, whom she loved and envied. Occasionally she took a walk with Tara down the street, who, though married with two kids, always seemed lonely. Larissa walked, while Tara talked, and it suited them both. On Fridays, after she had her nails done and her eyebrows waxed with her young nail friend Fran Finklestein, Larissa wrote Che a short note, like a diary entry, gingerly holding the pen with her painted nails. She told Che of Maggie and Ezra, of Evelyn and her five children, of Bo and her hypochondriac mother and her layabout boyfriend. Bo was the only one working in that household and lately it had been driving her crazy. Che was far away and liked to hear news from home.

When the mail came, Larissa would leaf through the catalogs and the magazines standing over the island in her kitchen. She didn’t read sitting down anymore. She didn’t have time. There was always the next thing, and the next. The phone was always ringing. Evelyn called to ask her what she thought of Marilynne Robinson’s new book (which Larissa hadn’t read, but pretended she was really into because Evelyn was so smart and intimidated Larissa).

Evelyn and Malcolm didn’t watch TV in Hoboken. They didn’t even have a TV! They had two couches, a chair, and a fireplace. And a low long table on which to place the tea cups and wine glasses and the books they were reading. Whenever she and Jared went over, all they did was sit and talk about books. Larissa often held Evelyn up to Jared, who said, “Do you think it’s because they live in Hoboken that they don’t have a television? We lived in Hoboken, we had a TV.” And, “What do you want to do, Lar, you want to get rid of the TV? Propose it, I’ll say yes.”

Evelyn homeschooled her kids. It was incongruous that she had the time, could find the time, could do it. “What do you want to do, Lar?” said Jared. “You want to homeschool our kids? Propose it, I’ll say yes.”

“You’re impossible when you get that self-righteous,” said Larissa.

She envied Evelyn the abilities that Larissa didn’t even know how to begin to begin to have. It was all Larissa could do to keep her house organized. Evelyn’s house was a lot less organized, but she homeschooled her kids! Evelyn also had twenty-four hours in her day, right? How come she had time to homeschool five children and read Marilynne Robinson?

“TV never goes on,” Evelyn explained with a smile.

“Well, I know. But you’ve got five kids.”