Full Glasses

1

         The darkness was beginning to fade. I felt myself slowly coming back to consciousness. The only thing I could feel was a terrible pounding in my head; it was the worst headache I’d ever had. I opened my eyes, shielding them against the bright fluorescent lighting, and slowly sat up. Or, at least, I tried. I discovered that I really couldn’t, so I stayed lying down.

         "Wh...where am I?" I asked a woman standing nearby.

         "Maple Heights Hospital," the RN replied. "You were brought in for alcohol poisoning," she informed me. Did I drink that much? I asked myself.

         I absentmindedly looked around the sterile hospital room, trying to take in the whole scene. The person in the bed next to mine was watching TV, although I was still too groggy to tell (or care) what show was on.

         "You have some visitors." The RN’s voice brought me back to the present.

         "Oh, um, okay. They can come in, I guess," I said.

         The RN walked out of the room. A few seconds later, several people rushed into the room. My mother walked in, sobbing. Holding her was my father, the tears also welling up in his eyes. Zack, my boyfriend, was with them, too. Running up to me, he squeezed me tightly, happy to see that I was finally awake.

         "Tori! I’m so glad you’re alright," he whispered, fighting back the tears. He slowly let go of me.

         "How could you go to a party like that?!? You had your mother and me worried all night!" Dad chastised me.

         "I’m...so sorry," I replied, beginning to cry myself. "I didn’t think..."

         "You’re damn right you didn’t think!" he interrupted, half-yelling.

         Just then, the RN came back into the room carrying a large envelope in her right hand. She had a glum look on her face.

         "I’m sorry to interrupt, but I just got the results back from the lab," she announced.

         "Results? What results?" I asked, scared to find out.

         "We did a rape kit when you were brought in," the RN said. "We found some vaginal bruising, faint traces of spermicide, and a water-vinegar solution commonly used for douching. Tell me honestly: Have you had consensual sex with anybody recently?"

         "No, of course not," I replied, slightly confused. Then, the realization of what that meant set in. "Oh god, was I...Oh my god, was I raped?"

         "I’m afraid so."

         I felt my entire world crash down around me in an instant. Nothing felt real. It must be a dream, I thought, A horrible nightmare. I could no longer make out a single word anybody said. Everything became a blur.

         Zack tried to comfort me, but I pushed him away. I didn’t want anyone near me. All I wanted to do was to lay down and die. It’s all my fault, I thought.

         "No, it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for this," Zack replied. Had I actually said that out loud? I could’ve sworn I only thought it.

         The door then opened, allowing two police detectives, one male and one female, to come in. I knew what they were there for, and I dreaded it. I just wasn’t ready to be badgered with questions. How can I answer their questions if I don’t even remember what happened? I asked myself.

         The detectives asked my parents and Zack to leave, and they did, albeit reluctantly. After all, couldn’t the questions wait a while? The female detective spoke first.

         "Hi Tori. I’m Detective Cameron Eckstrom, and this is my partner, Detective Arthur James. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you a few questions about last night."

         "Actually, I do mind, but I don’t suppose that’s going to make you leave, is it?" I replied, sounding a little more bitter than I had intended.

         "We’re only here to help," Det. James said. "Can you tell us everything that happened last night?"

         "I don’t remember anything that happened last night," I told them. "I know I went to a party, but all I can remember of it is flashing lights and loud music. The next thing I knew, I was lying here."

         "A blood test revealed that your BAC level was 0.32. Do you remember drinking?" Det. Eckstrom asked.

         I grew nauseous. Unfortunately, that was just the only thing I wholly remembered about the night before. I thought that having some tequila would help me enjoy the party more. Maybe it did at the time, but the morning after was a completely different story.

         "I remember having a little tequila, but not that much," I told the detectives. "Everything after that is really fuzzy."

         "Well," Det. James said, "for a girl your age, even a little is too much."

         "Um, do you know how I got here?" I asked, barely noticing Det. James’s cliché statement.

         "Your parents got worried when 2 am rolled by and you still weren’t home," Det. Eckstrom told me. "They called your boyfriend to see if he knew where you were. When he said he hadn’t heard from you, the three of them thought you must still be at the party. He offered to go pick you up, since he lived much closer than your parents. On his way there, he saw you stumbling down the street, looking pretty disheveled. He picked you up and brought you straight here. You’re lucky he found you."

         The detectives asked a few more questions, and I answered them as honestly as I could. Finally, after what seemed like hours had passed, Detectives Eckstrom and James left. Noticing them pass by him on their way out, Zack returned to my room.

         "What are my parents doing?" I asked him.

         "They fell asleep about 10 minutes ago," he answered. "I would’ve woken them up when the detectives left, but they just looked so darn cute," he added, trying to get a laugh out of me, I’m sure.

         Zack’s attempts were rewarded with a smile, and I could tell that he was glad. For him to make me smile again made me forget about all that had happened, and everything was right again, if only for a moment.

         We talked for the next hour, and we even managed a few laughs. We steered clear of the previous night’s events. The time to talk about that would come later. My parents came back into the room and decided that it was time for everyone to go home.

         "We all could use a little rest. We’ve been up all night," Mom said. The clock on the wall said that it was 10:30 am; that was a little over 8 hours since Zack found me on the street. I’m sure it felt like days had passed for the three of them.

         Before they left, the detectives walked back into the room. Det. James walked up behind Zack and grabbed his arms, pulling them behind his back. In a second, the handcuffs were on.

         Zack Bancroft, you are under arrest for rape. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to give up that right, anything you say..." Det. James recited Zack’s Miranda rights.

         We were all shocked. As the detectives escorted Zack out of the room, he pleaded to me, "Tell them I didn’t do it, Tori! You know I didn’t do it! Tell them!!"

         I wanted to believe him, but I was feeling really conflicted about it. I mean, he did have the perfect opportunity. Nobody else knew where I was, I was drunk beyond belief, and we were all alone in a dark street.

         But this is Zack we’re talking about! You know he could never hurt you! I told myself. I knew it was the truth. Zack would never in a million years lay a finger on me, much less rape me. But that also meant that the "person" who did do it (I use "person" here very loosely, because what kind of person could do such a thing?) was still out there, and Zack was going to take the fall for him.

2

         The hospital kept me overnight to make sure I would be okay. Nothing much happened after Zack and my parents left. Most of the "excitement" happened in the first few hours after I got to the hospital. I didn’t see my parents until later that night, and only for a little bit. Most of my day was spent wondering how this could’ve happened to me and what Zack’s role exactly was in it all.

         I wasn’t completely alone that day, though. The person in the bed next to mine was a middle-aged woman who’d had a mild heart attack the day before. She was awake when I woke up and discovered that I had been raped, so I didn’t have to fill her in. That was good, because I don’t know if I even could’ve.

         "I’m very sorry to hear what happened to you. It kind of makes my heart attack seem small," she said.

         "Don’t say that, Mrs. Charles! There’s nothing small about a heart attack," I replied.

         "Please, call me Jane," she said. "And it is small compared to your situation. I’m old, and I brought this on myself. I’ve never been one to exercise...or to pass up a big ol’ hamburger, either. But you, you’re so young and innocent. And that cock-for-brains Zack took advantage of you! It just isn’t fair."

         "First of all, Zack didn’t do it," I retorted curtly. "Sorry, that was kind of rude. And I’m not that innocent. I did drink at that party."

         She waved her hand dismissively. "What kid doesn’t do that at least once? It’s not like drinking gives somebody the right to violate you like that!"

         "I dunno," I quietly said.

         "Where were your friends during all of this? Why didn’t they stop it?" she asked. Jane looked as if she could kill.

         "Oh, I went to the party alone," I replied. "The truth is, I really don’t have any friends. Just Zack. And he did try to get me not to go."

         She looked genuinely surprised. "How could a pretty girl like you have no friends? You’ve gotta have a few, at least!"

         "Nope. I’ve just always been kind of a loner," I explained. "Not by choice, like those dumb goth kids. Just by nature. Zack’s the only real friend I’ve ever had..."

3

         The day we met was one of the best days of my life. I’ll never forget it.

         I went to my 10th grade Homecoming dance alone. I always went places alone. The truth is, I didn’t even want to go in the first place. My parents pretty much forced me to. They said that I should get out more and enjoy my teen life. I’d much rather have stayed home and watched some movies, all cuddled up with a nice big bowl of popcorn and my warm blanket.

         Social events have always made me uncomfortable. I was born a wallflower, and I knew that I would die one, as well. That dance started out pretty much like every other one. I was sitting in the corner, doodling in my little notebook. I’ve always doodled whenever I was bored out of my mind.

         All of the other kids were out in the middle of the floor, dancing and dry-humping to some stupid rap song. The music was giving me a headache, and I was about to leave. I didn’t care what my parents said; this was nowhere near enjoyable.

         But then, a boy came over and sat down right next to me. He was tall, and had long, brown hair. I’d seen him around school a couple times before, but I didn’t know his name. I couldn’t believe that he just...sat down. Next to me, of all people.

         "What’s a pretty girl like you doing looking all lonely?" he asked.

         I blushed. "I’m not lonely...or pretty," I responded. "I just don’t want to be here right now."

         "That’s because you’re not letting yourself enjoy it!" he said. Just then, a slow song started playing. Every couple in there started dancing together. He took my hand and asked, "May I have this dance?" I nodded about 100 times, more nervous than ever before in my life, and let him lead me out onto the dance floor.

         I rested my hands on his shoulders, and he wrapped his around my waist. We spun there in our slow circle for the whole song, without saying a single word. We just stared into each other’s eyes. I couldn’t believe that such a handsome boy would want to dance with me. This is just like in my dreams, I thought, my mind completely tranquil.

         It seemed like we danced there forever. Time lost all meaning. I couldn’t see or hear anyone or anything but him.

         When the song finally did end, he slowly leaned in and kissed me. His lips were so soft, I swore I was going to melt.

         "By the way, my name’s Zack," he whispered into my ear.

         As it turns out, me and Zack have a lot in common. Both of us are pretty much loners. We’re really into rock music and are pretty good students. He likes movies almost as much as I do. He writes tons of really good scripts. I thought that since I planned on being a director, Maybe we’ll get to do a movie together!

         Zack said that he’d noticed me in the hallways at school, but was always too shy to say anything. When he saw me at the dance, he knew that there would be no better opportunity than then. I’m glad that he came over and sat down next to me that night. I’m so much happier now that I’m not alone.

4

         Zack was released 24 hours after he was arrested, since the police didn’t have enough evidence.

         "Of course they didn’t have enough evidence," Zack said. "I didn’t do it!"

         After searching him and his car, they found nothing. No bodily fluids, no condoms, no sign that there had even been a girl in the car; that is, except for the pool of vomit on the floor in the backseat.

         I never really believed that he did it, but there was that small, nagging suspicion that maybe, just maybe, he did. I pretended that it wasn’t there, but when I heard that the police released him on account of a lack of evidence, I can’t say that I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief.

5

         The first thing I did when I got home was to take a shower. Having not showered since the night of the party, I was overdue.

         I couldn’t remember the actual rape, but I could still feel it. The lingering pain between my legs as the hot, soapy water ran between them served as a constant reminder of how I was so taken advantage of. But it wasn’t just the pain that I felt. There was something deeper than that.

         Dirtiness?

         Yeah, that’s it. As a complement to the physical pain I felt from the bruising, the rapist left a feeling of dirtiness that no amount of scrubbing could remove. I stayed in the shower for almost an hour, trying to wash it all away. The pain. The images I was creating to fill the void in my memory. But most of all, the vile feeling that my purity had been ripped away from me and that I’d never get it back.

         I got several visitors over the next few days. It seemed like hardly an hour could pass without somebody dropping by my house to see how I was doing. I knew that they were just worried, and I really did appreciate it, but after a while I started to get a little annoyed. The one visitor I didn’t mind at all, though, was Zack. He was the only person I could talk to. We talked for hours every day, still straying from the topic of the rape. Just having him there with me helped, though.

         What little time I had alone (and some of the time I was with Zack) I spent crying. I couldn’t believe what had happened. The only thing I could believe was that it was my fault, no matter how many times my friends and family told me otherwise.

         Before I left the hospital, they recommended that I take a pregnancy test in a few days. No matter what they said, I refused. I’m not pregnant. I can’t be pregnant! I’m only 15, for Christ’s sake! So why even bother taking it? I thought. They finally gave up trying to convince me, but not before advising my parents to keep talking to me about it.

         In the end, my parents prevailed, and I agreed to take the test.

         "Would you rather find out you’re pregnant now or when your stomach looks like you’ve eaten a watermelon whole?" Mom had asked, finally convincing me.

         Mom and Dad rushed right out to the drug store to pick up a home pregnancy test. The entire time they were gone, I cried.

         "If it turns out that I am pregnant, my life is going to be ruined!" I said to myself. The more I thought about it, the more worried I became.

         Before I knew it, my parents were home. Damn, they were fast, I thought. Did they cut through people’s lawns or something?

         I quickly dried my eyes before my parents saw. I knew that it was silly, but I didn’t want them to see me crying. My parents gave me the tester and told me that I might as well get it over with. I had been dreading this moment since leaving the hospital. I tried putting it off as long as I could, but I eventually walked into the bathroom to take the test, knowing that just because I didn’t take it wouldn’t mean that I wasn’t pregnant.

         Waiting for the results was nerve-wracking. Although it was only 2 or 3 minutes, I could’ve sworn it was at least fifteen. Finally, it started to show up. As it became clearer, I could tell what the results were. In a couple of minutes, the tester showed a blue shape: the shape of a plus sign.

         I was pregnant.

         That’s when the tears started flowing. Silently, I cried harder than I’d ever cried before. This is all my fault, I told myself. If I wouldn’t have gone to that stupid party, none of this would’ve happened.

6

         The day of the party was a pretty crazy one at school. I had tests in 4 of my hardest subjects. It was a Friday, and after the grueling day, I was ready to unwind. I’ve never been much of a partier, but when I saw the frat boy handing out flyers to the "Party of the Year" on my way home, I just couldn’t resist.

         I told Zack about it and tried to get him to come along, but he wouldn’t. He even tried to convince me not to go. I wish I would’ve listened.

         "I’ve got a bad feeling about it," he had said. "Frat parties aren’t exactly known for being tame."

         "Oh, it’s just one party. What’s the worst that could happen?"

         So, I told my parents a little lie. I said that I was going to a party, but I also told them that it was at this girl Jessica’s house. My parents were ecstatic that I was making friends. They practically sang. Of course, there was no Jessica. I don’t think I’ve ever even met a girl named Jessica before.

         The party didn’t start until 10, but I left home at about 7:30. There’s no way my parents would’ve believed that a high schooler’s party would start that late.

         To pass the time, I walked around the town. It’s a fairly small city, so I knew all the sights. I’ve always loved walking in the evening, watching the sun about to set, seeing all the little kids running home to take their baths and go to bed. It’s so peaceful. The only thing that could’ve made it better was if Zack had been there to enjoy it with me.

         Walking around killed the time pretty well. I called a cab from a pay phone at about 9:30. The frat house was in the next city over: a little too far to walk.

         The party was already well underway by the time I got there. I guess they decided to start early. For the first hour or so, I just hung out on the wall, listening to the music and watching everyone else have a good time. It was just like the Homecoming dance, only this time, there was no Zack to save me. I felt pretty left out.

         Well, duh! Did you expect a bunch of college students to pay attention to a lowly high schooler? That annoying voice in my head argued.

         And, like an idiot, this is how I responded: Maybe if I have a few drinks they will!

         So I walked over to the drink table and saw all sorts of things. Vodka, beer, pop, rum. The list goes on. I finally took a plastic cup and filled it almost to the top with tequila. I nursed that for a few minutes, and when it was empty, I refilled my glass.

         It was one of the most horrible things I’ve ever tasted, but I figured I was just being a wimp. After all, the college kids were drinking it. I wasn’t aware then that you really shouldn’t drink full glasses of tequila.

         After the second glass, I refilled it once more. I don’t remember drinking it, though. No matter how hard I tried, everything after that was one big blur.

         Until I woke up in the hospital.

7

         KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! My mom was banging on the bathroom door. The sudden break in the silence made me leap about 3 feet.

         "Are you okay, honey?" she asked through the wood.

         I opened the door, still sobbing. With my eyes never leaving my feet, I told her.

         "It’s positive."

         My parents enveloped me in a hug and offered me words of comfort, but I didn’t really notice. My brain had pretty much shut down. All I kept thinking was, My life is over. My life is over...

8

         Zack came over that night, and I told him that I was pregnant. He was floored, but he reacted better than I thought he would. To be honest, I’d expected him to dump me right there. A baby is a lot of extra baggage for a girl. I should’ve known better.

         Holding me, he said, "It’ll be a big adjustment, but I’ll be there for you and your baby as if it was mine."

         I pulled away in surprise. "Oh my god! Are...are you serious?"

         "Of course I am," he replied. "I’m not about to leave you at a time like this. I’m not that big of a jerk," he added, smiling.

         I looked into his eyes, never having cared for him more than at that very moment.

         "I love you."

9

         I’ll admit, when I first found out I was pregnant, the thought of having an abortion crossed my mind. And it stayed there until my talk with Zack. After that, it was as if I’d never even thought of the word "abortion," much less thought of having one.

         But still, the idea of being a teenaged mother scared the hell out of me. I was convinced that I was going to end up a welfare mom, living on checks from the government. Having no money, living in the poor part of town, and watching my kid go to bed hungry because I can’t afford food was not my idea of a future.

         I had planned on going to a 4-year university. My major was going to be Cinematography. Movies have always been a passion of mine. Being able to make a career out of it would’ve been a dream come true. But I knew that there was no longer any room in my life for college.

10

         Even before the rape, I would often lay in bed for hours before falling asleep, thinking about all sorts of things. I would imagine everything, from things as big as me and Zack getting married to things as little as what movie I wanted to see that weekend.

         I still imagined after the rape. The only difference was what I imagined. I wondered what everyone would think once they realized I was pregnant. After all, a big belly like that would be pretty hard not to notice. And I wondered what I was gonna tell everyone. Rape isn’t something you go around telling about to anyone with functioning ears. But I didn’t want people thinking I was a tramp, either. It took me a while to figure out what to do with that one.

         I did have one daydream that was actually pretty funny. My English class was discussing a section of The Catcher In the Rye when my water broke. The girl next to me saw it and started screaming. I’d be pretty grossed out, too.

         I was frozen in my seat, mostly out of embarrassment. My teacher rushed me down to the office. Coincidentally, Zack was walking by the office, returning to his class from a bathroom break. I told him that my water broke, and he offered to drive me to the hospital. It didn’t feel right to think of anyone else driving me to the hospital.

         I laughed out loud when I thought of that one. Something about the idea of going into labor in the middle of English class struck me as funny. When I thought about it more, though, I realized it was really more gross than funny.

11

         The next couple of weeks were pretty uneventful, except for the plague of morning sickness. But then, out of the blue, Det. Eckstrom called me one afternoon.

         "Hi, Tori. How are you doing?" she asked me.

         "Well, besides the constant fear that I have no future and the fact that I’m barfing almost every morning, I guess I’m not doing too bad," I answered.

         There was a long pause from her end. I’m pretty sure that’s not the answer she was expecting. She went on as if I’d told her that I was doing just peachy.

         "That’s...good. I’ve got some news that I think you should hear. If you could come down to the station ASAP, that would be great," she said.

         I already knew what she wanted to tell me. They caught him!

         "Yeah, I’ll be right there," I told her, trying to keep my cool.

         Mom and Dad drove me there right away, once I told them about the call. Climbing the steps to the precinct, I felt butterflies fill my stomach. I’d been waiting for this moment for weeks.

         Det. Eckstrom met me inside. She took me into her small office, and my parents followed. It was pretty cramped with the four of us in there, but I didn’t mind. I was simply too excited to care.

         The look on Det. Eckstrom’s was not one of somebody about to reveal good news.

         Wait, if she’s about to tell me they caught the guy, why does she look so somber? I wondered.

         "I’ll start with the good news," she began. "We were able to locate several people who were at the party. About 15 in all. A few of them remembered seeing you there.

         "Unfortunately, that’s about it for the good news. None of them remember seeing you with a guy, and nobody heard anyone even mention you. And when the rapist used the douche, he washed away all of his DNA. We’ll keep investigating, but without any physical evidence or witnesses, it doesn’t look good. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I thought you should know."

         Suddenly, the butterflies turned to nausea. My lips quivered, not able to find words. I felt the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had for lunch coming back for a visit. I rushed over to the trash can in the corner and hurled. Mom held my hair back for me.

         Dad, meanwhile, started chewing out Det. Eckstrom.

         "So you’re saying that the bastard that hurt my little girl is gonna get away with it?!?" he yelled.

         "I’m sorry, Mr. Gladstone, but we’ve done all we can. Believe me," she calmly replied. "But the crime scene had no physical evidence, and without witnesses to corroborate Tori’s story, there’s nothing we can do."

         "So, that’s it then?" Dad asked.

         "I’m afraid so."

         That’s when wave two hit me.

12

         At school, the other kids were beginning to notice something. More than a few times, somebody (usually a girl) pulled me aside and asked quietly, "Are you pregnant?"

         There was really no point in denying the pregnancy, but I still didn’t want to tell everyone that I was raped. So I told them all a little lie that me and Zack came up with. One that, unfortunately, I had to repeat so often that I could’ve told it in my sleep.

         It wasn’t a bad lie, really. It was actually pretty simple. I told them that Zack had taken me out to my favorite restaurant and had even gotten me a necklace (Actually, my grandma gave me the necklace for my 15th birthday. I never wore it before because, honestly, I never really liked it). The night had ended with us in the backseat of Zack’s car, making love.

         Everybody knew that me and Zack had been going out for several months, so they had no reason to not believe it or to think that I was just a tramp. A lot of the girls even said how romantic it was (except for it happening in the backseat, of course) and how great of a boyfriend Zack was. If they only knew.

13

         I had my first ultrasound about 5 months after I found out I was pregnant. I was pretty worried going in. I knew that I would start putting on weight, but it surprised me how much.

         That extra weight isn’t just the baby.

         The annoying voice in my head that got me into this situation in the first place was back.

         You’re just getting plain old fat. You’re overeating for two now.

         It had a point there. I was eating more than I ever had before. A lot more.

         I got to the doctor’s office the day of the ultrasound and met my obstetrician, Dr. Sakoda. She seemed almost dead, as if her interest in the field was long gone. A part of me thought, Don’t let her near your stomach! She’ll kill your baby’s soul!

         That thought lasted about a second before I realized how stupid it was. The sheer silliness of it made me grin.

         "Please sit down and lift your shirt above your stomach so I can listen for a heartbeat," Dr. Sakoda said. Her voice was a monotone that made Stephen Hawkings’s computer sound full of emotion.

         Dr. Sakoda’s stethoscope gave me a chill when she put it on my stomach. I wasn’t expecting the sudden cold. She stared off into one corner of the room as she moved the stethoscope around.

         The moving slowed. A quizzical look grew on Dr. Sakoda’s face. She removed the stethoscope and hung it up on the wall.

         "Um, what’s wrong?" I asked her. I almost didn’t ask. After all, hadn’t I had enough bad news for this lifetime?

         Dr. Sakoda just looked at me. Is that a bit of a smile? I wondered.

         "I heard 3 heartbeats," she told me. "One was yours, of course. The other two were-"

         "Twins?!?" I interrupted. I could feel my eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. Dr. Sakoda nodded. I swear I almost fainted. That was the best news I’d gotten in months.

         Dr. Sakoda did the ultrasound. Seeing the twins was breathtaking. I could’ve stared at that computer monitor forever. Knowing that those little babies were part of me was incredible. I couldn’t even fully grasp it.

         "It looks like a boy and a girl. Congratulations," Dr. Sakoda said. Her interest in obstetrics seemed to return then, if only for a few minutes.

         Unfortunately for me, Dr. Sakoda was a very busy woman. The "forever" that I wished for was cut down to about 15 minutes. But it’s 15 minutes that I’ll never forget.

         I had several more ultrasounds during my pregnancy. They were all amazing, but none so much as that first one.

14

         By the time Month 8, December, rolled around, school had let out for the summer and started up again. I was in 11th grade then. Me and Zack had gotten part-time jobs back in May. Zack worked at Marco’s Pizza, and I worked at Blockbuster. We weren’t making much above minimum wage, but we figured that it would be nice to have at least some money to raise the twins with. Plus we got free pizza and movie rentals: a mega-bonus.

         Zack even went clothes shopping with me for the twins. It was obvious that he didn’t really want to be there, but he denied it. Two full days of clothes shopping wasn’t Zack’s idea of fun. For some reason, though, he seemed to love the baby toys. I swear, he enjoyed those things more than the babies would. He can be a pretty weird kid sometimes, but that’s why I love him.

         After Zack was done trying to buy every baby toy in the store, we went to look at cribs. He wanted to buy the most gadget-covered cribs they had (Wow, he is such a guy, I thought), but we were short on money by that point. It pained him to do so, but we had to settle for just a simple design.

         My parents helped with money. It wasn’t much, but we were thankful for every penny we could get our needy little hands on.

         Zack’s parents, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with the twins. They didn’t want Zack to, either. Like that was gonna stop him.

         "Why should we support your babies?" Mrs. Bancroft had asked me. I don’t say things like this very often, but she is a bitch. I wanted to slap her across the face for saying that, but I figured attacking my boyfriend’s mom wouldn’t much help the situation.

15

         Coming home from work one Friday evening, I was exhausted. Dealing with school and stupid customers for over 12 hours isn’t easy when you’re 8 months pregnant. All I wanted to do was take a quick shower and go to bed.

         But the twins had something to say about that.

         Just as I was about to step in the bathtub, my water broke. This time, it wasn’t a daydream. I could feel it all over my feet. Disgusting. I wrapped a towel around my waist and called for my parents.

         "Mom! Dad! Help!" I cried, not sure of what else to do.

         I could hear them both rushing down the hallway. I never thought they could move that fast. Soon, I saw them standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

         "What’s wr..." She didn’t even need to finish her question. She saw the puddle at my feet and knew right away.

         Dad realized what was going on, too. He started giving out orders like an army general. Had I not been almost naked, scared half to death, and standing in a puddle of nasty goo, I probably would’ve thought it was pretty funny.

         "Tori, wipe yourself off the best you can in about, oh, 10 seconds! Sophie, find her some old sweats she can change into! There’s...stuff all over her clothes. I’ll start the car! Let’s move, people!" he shouted amazingly fast.

         In mere minutes, we were on the road. I called Zack and told him what had happened, and he met us at the hospital.

         The first contraction had hit me soon after my water broke. It wasn’t too bad, but I definitely noticed it. And I knew that they’d get worse. The second one didn’t hit me until after I was in my hospital room. That one was a little worse, but still easily handled.

         Several hours later, I was still trudging through the contractions. I couldn’t believe that they’d last that long. And they were coming very close together then. Unlike the first couple, these hurt like hell. Lucky for me, the painkillers the doctors gave me took some of the edge off of the pain. Not much, though.

         Zack and my parents were at my bedside the whole time. This time, though, the reason they were with me in the hospital was a good one. Mom told me that a bunch of friends and family were in the waiting room.

         The next couple hours were spent pushing and breathing. Those were the longest, most painful hours of my life. Zack offered me his hand to clutch, and I think I broke some fingers. If I did, it must not have hurt him too bad. He didn’t complain once. He’s such an incredible guy.

         Once the pushing began, I started getting exhausted. Ironically, the same pain from the contractions that was draining my energy was also the only thing keeping me awake. The strain from constantly pushing didn’t exactly help, either.

         I almost blacked out a couple of times, too. The pain and the exhaustion were catching up to me, but everyone was doing a good job of keeping me awake.

         "We’ve got a rupture!" the doctor screamed. "She’s losing blood fast! Get me a transfusion now!"

         "Rupture? What’s going on?" I asked, confused by a lethal combination of drugs, pain, and blood loss.

         Zack, who had been pushed out of the way by the frantic doctor, replied, "I don’t know, but you’ll be fine. Just hang in there, and you’ll be fine." But I could tell by the way he was tearing up that he was worried.

         I felt myself slipping. The doctor had been right. I was losing way too much blood, and I could feel it. That part of the labor was when I needed to concentrate the most, but I just couldn’t focus on anything. I was plagued with shivers, and I finally lost the battle to stay conscious. But not before I heard the doctor say, "I’m gonna have to go in!"

         I was blacked out through most of the operation. They managed to fix the rupture and get some blood back into my system. Once my veins were sufficiently refilled, I came back to the world. To even more pain than when I’d left it. The Caesarean Section that I and the twins all needed meant a horizontal incision (which would eventually turn into a scar I’ll carry with me until the day that I die) just above where my pubic hair began. Once again, the doctors gave me anesthetics, but they didn’t do much against the mighty roar of the emergency C-Section. It was all worth it in the end, though.

         Hailie Christine Gladstone was born that day, Saturday, at 12:04 pm. Four minutes later, her little brother, Tristan Alexander Gladstone, arrived. They were both perfectly healthy (despite being a month premature) and beautiful little babies.

         When I finally got to hold them, I felt so wonderful that I can’t even describe it. I’ve never been happier than at that very moment.

         That day was the best Christmas Eve ever.

16

         Hailie and Tristan are 10 now. They are the most adorable kids ever. Zack and I got married when they were 3. Hailie, Tristan, and I all took his last name. He kept to his word about raising them as his own, and I couldn’t love him more for it.

         We stuck together through thick and thin, for richer or for poorer. We’re still waiting on the "richer" part of that, though. Money’s always been pretty tight. Many nights were spent awake worrying about how we were going to pay the bills. Overall, though, it’s completely worth it. Having Zack, Hailie, and Tristan in my life has made it all worthwhile.

         Hailie and Tristan still don’t know that Zack isn’t their biological father. As far as we’re concerned, it doesn’t matter anyway. Zack was the one who was there for their births. Zack was the one who supported us, when he could’ve just as easily ditched us all those years ago. Zack is their father.

         Honestly, the future scares the hell out of me. Me and Zack aren’t exactly Mr. and Mrs. Moneybags, and college for the twins isn’t far down the road. Because of all that had happened, we didn’t get to go to college. We had neither the time nor the money. The twins, though, are not going to miss that opportunity. I’ll get them into college if it’s the last thing I do. It’ll be tricky, though.

         Especially since, once again, I’m pregnant.