I sat down with AZ that day and told him I was out. I was out on the whole deal. There was no fucking way in hell I was going to have a baby in that filthy trailer and teach that baby the differences in beer brands and drug measurements. I told him I was giving the baby up for adoption and then I was going to carry out my original plan of going to college and becoming a computer programmer and that he was on his own. He took this as an 'emotional thing' seeing as how I was pregnant and he had watched some sitcoms at some point in time in his life. I convinced him that I was, indeed, serious. In fact, I had called the adoption people before he had come home from work and was meeting with them the next day. He freaked out, believe it or not the idea of losing me was pretty scary for him. He convinced me to stay and he would change our lives but he couldn't convince me to not look into adoption.
Two months later we were moved to a town near Houston living with his grandmother. He thought that if we got away from the town we were in and started over that we stood a better chance of getting away from the things that were keeping him down and he was right. Or at least, kind of right. His grandmother was nice enough but you could tell she didn't want us there and as it turned out I was the second pregnant chic to be brought back home to Granny. The first was by AZ's big brother. (Don't you just love tradition?) We moved up in the world. AZ got a stable job that paid a few bucks more than minimum wage and we moved from Granny's place to a two-bedroom mobile home. Well I wasn't a college graduate but it was clean and he was clean and all seemed right in my little corner of the world for a few months.
I was five months pregnant when M blew his brains out with a small revolver at his boyfriend's kitchen table. AZ blamed himself of course. I mean, he had abandoned his best friend for his knocked up girlfriend, who else could he blame? Looking back, this was the very beginning of the end.
continued...
Labels: History Lesson
