Ivy dropped into a wooden chair in the kitchen and covered her face with both hands. "My life is officially ruined."
"I don't know," I said slowly. "You've got options."
"You're going to be an aunt," she said, ignoring me. "Being an aunt is awesome. Being a mom is not. You can go out and do shit when you want. A kid is twenty-four-seven obligation. We both know I can barely care for myself. It's a good thing Mom and Dad are dead because this would kill them. After they killed me."
"They would not," I objected almost automatically.
She turned to me in astonishment. "God, I can't believe I'm so ignorant that I failed to realize I wasn't just getting fat, I was pregnant. You know what Jimmy said to me the other day? Lay off the cheeseburgers, or I'll have to send you to One Dollar. Do you know what kind of hellhole that place is? It's so rundown that the strippers pay the clients to sit and watch them take off their clothes."
"We'll get you another job. Maybe Tucker could hire you. You could be the shop bitch."
"Nice, and no. I'm not going to work at your fancy tattoo parlor because I can't draw and I can't tattoo anyone, and I don't want to learn either. I’ll keep waiting tables. That brings in decent money."
For how long? It sounded like she had bypassed all her options but one.
I took a seat next to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulder. She felt thin, frail beneath my arm. She had gone into prison a junky with lanky hair and skin that was going bad and came out dry and healthy looking. But Ivy, who stood four inches taller than me, had always been very slender. She could barely take care of herself, let alone a child.
"There are clinics," I started to say, but she cut me off.
"I'm not doing that." She shrugged off my arm and went to the refrigerator. "I should probably drink more milk and shit like that. Throw me the bag of samples the doc gave us. Those prenatal vitamins are in there."
"Why not consider termination as an option?" I said, handing her the bag.
"I want to have this baby, Winter. I keep thinking how your birth mother carried you to term even though it must have been so hard for her. Whatever her circumstances. If she had aborted you, I wouldn't have you. I can't do that, Winter."
In the dark of night, we'd whispered all our fears to each other, and mine had made a bigger impact than I'd realized.
"I don't feel that way now," I urged.
"Winter, please, I want this baby." Her hand cupped her belly, and she looked at me with fierceness. “You have got to be with me on this. I know I can't do it alone. Together you and I are the Donovan sisters, and we can do anything."
We really couldn’t. I thought of our tiny bank account. I looked around at our shitty apartment. I squeezed her tighter. "Then maybe adoption."
"Seriously, do I even know you? We aren't letting someone raise our kid, Winter. I remember all those nights you cried in my arms, wondering why she gave you up. Why she wouldn't fight for you. I don't want that either. Please help me. This baby is going to be yours and mine. We'll raise it together." She pushed away and pulled out the vitamin box. I wondered how much those would cost. Babies were ridiculously expensive.
"How?" I asked helplessly. "We can't afford another place, especially if you won't have your tips from Riskie's."
"I'll get another job," she said stubbornly. Two pills disappeared in her mouth, and she washed them down with a glass of milk.
"What about the father?"
She was quiet for a long time before admitting, "Not sure."
I tried not to appear too judgy but must have failed.
"Look, I just got out of prison, and I felt…worthless and demoralized. I was a felon at the age of twenty-five. I had no job prospects. They do counseling when you're nearing your release date. They tell you that you have to have a positive attitude, or you'll wind up back in jail. So when I got out, I admit I went a little crazy, but it woke me up, and I've been sober now for over a hundred days." She waved a coin that Margo must have brought her.
"That was rock bottom?" I asked with raised eyebrows. The counselor had told us until Ivy reached rock bottom, she wouldn't be interested in recovering. Her excuses would always blind her to her addictions.
"No, I think I'm at rock bottom now." She gave me a resigned look and patted her belly. Putting the milk away, she stomped into her bedroom and left me standing there feeling shell-shocked.
The fear, the selfish part of me wanted to recoil and push her away, but I couldn’t do that to her or her child. If it was me, I’d have gotten the abortion. I couldn’t give a baby up for adoption and then live with someone I birthed walking around feeling this big hole in her chest. That was a wound that had never fully healed no matter how many times Mom and Dad reminded me that I had been chosen, that they had wanted me for Ivy’s sister and their daughter more than any other girl out there.