with me? She began to worry that this was more than the flu. She decided to go to the main building and check her final grades. What she found only added to her misery. She had not done well enough to bring up her GPA. She would be placed on academic probation. This would affect her scholarships. She went back to her dorm and spent the rest of the holiday in bed, getting up only to eat, drink, vomit, or relieve herself.
My mother’s roommate was the first to find her. “Oh my god! Mary, are you okay?”
My mother didn’t answer. She was too weak from dehydration. She closed her eyes and went back to sleep. Later, she would awaken in a hospital bed with an IV in her arm. She was too sad to care. Once again, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.
“Miss Foster…Miss Foster…” My mother was awakened by a woman in white. “You need to wake up and try to eat. We gave you something for the nausea, so you should be able to keep it down. Now wake up girl and feed that baby.”
“Baby! What are you talking about?”
“You’re pregnant, my dear! Didn’t you know?”
“No, I didn’t.”
And that was how my mother found out about me. She was both scared and excited. She couldn’t wait to tell Liam. He’d be happy, wouldn’t he?
My mother was released from the hospital the next morning. She was instructed to keep her stomach full to avoid the nausea. The nurses also made her a pregnancy survival bag, filled with packets of just-add-water chicken broth and saltine crackers. She went back to her dorm room and slept all day. She awoke later that night, got up, and took a cab to Liam’s.
She arrived at his apartment and knocked on his door for what would be the last time. This time the door opened. There he was, standing before her. She smiled, feeling brief relief that was soon replaced with an uneasy feeling, like being at a party you weren’t invited to. He did not smile back. “Come in.”
She entered his apartment. “What happened, Liam? I thought we were going to spend Thanksgiving together.”
“I never said that, Mary.”
She thought about it and realized that he had not said that. She had just assumed they would. “Oh, I guess you’re right. I just thought we, that you would want to spend more time together.”
“Mary, this can’t go on. You can’t keep coming here. I am your teacher, you are so young, I could lose my job over this.”
Her head began to spin with the realization that he wasn’t in love with her and that she meant nothing to him. Her nausea returned. “I am such a fool! I have given you everything. I thought you loved me! I thought you wanted me! Why? Why, Liam? Why have you done this to me?” she screamed.
“Stop yelling, Mary! Be a grown-up! I thought you were mature enough to handle this! After all, you pursued me!”
“I pursued you? Why did you wait for me to get off work? Why did we take those long drives? Why did you kiss me?”
“You’re an attractive girl. You’re smart. I enjoyed talking to you. I didn’t expect you to come to my office like you did that day. This is just a big misunderstanding, Mary.”
“I am pregnant, Liam.”
Liam was stunned. He looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. His face turned red, and he began to pace the floor.
“What do you mean you’re pregnant, Mary? You mean a smart girl like you is not on the pill? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to trap me, Mary? How do you know you’re pregnant? Better yet, how do you know it’s mine?”
“It’s yours, Liam. You are the only one.”
“Well then, I will pay for the abortion.”
“No, Liam, I will not end this pregnancy.”
“Well, that’s just perfect, isn’t it, Mary? That’s just great!”
“I am sorry, Liam. I thought you wanted to be with me. I thought you would be happy. I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again.”
“I am sorry too, Mary. I thought you were mature enough to handle an adult relationship. I will do the responsible thing and pay for an abortion. Contact me when you have decided what you are going to do. Until then, I need you to stay away from here, stay away from me. I have worked very hard to get to where I am, and I don’t need you screwing that up for me.”
Liam handed her some cash, opened the door, and directed her out. He shut the door behind her. She dropped the money in the hall and walked away.
She decided she would continue to pursue her goals. She would conceal her pregnancy, and when the time came, she would find a suitable family for her baby.
But her pregnancy was grueling. Her grades continued to decline. The nausea and vomiting never let up. It became very hard for her to maintain her own health. She had no money or insurance for prenatal care. She did the best she could to take care of herself and read every book she could find on pregnancy and how to have a healthy baby. This may seem very irresponsible to some, but I was impressed by her strength, her resolve.
Professor O’Brien wouldn’t even look her way. She had no one to confide in. She often thought about calling her mother but knew that her family would never accept a baby conceived out of wedlock. She was on her own in every sense. She did what she could to separate herself from the life inside her, the little person that moved with such exuberance. But in her heart, she had already begun to love me. So when I was born to my mother on August 13, 1971, at 12:01 a.m. in the ER of the nearest hospital, she took one look at me and my fiery red hair and knew she could not part with me.
Mary Ann Foster walked out of that hospital with her daughter in her arms: me, Juliet O’Brien Foster, and never looked back. She left Berkeley.
* * * * *
The house was barely visible from the road, hidden by trees overgrown with ivy and grass so tall that it concealed what the trees did not. There it stood. Just like a little cottage out of a fairy tale. I wanted it!
“Stop, Stanley! Stop the car!”
Stanley slammed on the brakes, sending me into the dashboard. “What? What is it?” He responded a bit frantically. But I was already out of the car running through the tall grass. It was beautiful. Moss grew on the chipped wood shingles. Painted glass windows adorned the second floor and the porch, wrapping entirely around the house itself. The front door lay on the porch. The hinges had long since succumbed to the rotted wood. I ran up the steps and proceeded to enter the house when the wood gave way under my left foot breaking through and breaking my ankle. I screamed in pain.
“Juliet!”
I could hear Stanley approaching. I tried to free my leg from the hole in the porch before he could see what had happened. I didn’t know which was worse, the pain in my ankle or the anticipation of the coming lecture that I was sure to receive once Stanley arrived. It was of no use. I was trapped. My foot was wedged in between the broken pieces of wood. So there I waited helpless for Stanley.
“Oh my god, Juliet, are you okay?”
“I think so. Just a little stuck.”
Stanley scaled the stairs up to the porch and began to assess my situation. He knelt and kissed my sweaty forehead then looked into my eyes, somewhat amused.
“So what are you doing?”
“Oh, just hanging out.”
The pain in my ankle was now fully awake. I did not mention this to Stanley. I didn’t want to alarm him. He bent down next to me, pulling boards apart and breaking pieces away to free my foot from its wooden prison. I had a large gash to my shin that Stan said would need stitches. My ankle had begun to swell, turning a shade of dark purple and blue. Stan removed his shirt and wrapped it around my shin to stop the bleeding.
“Pretty