Pregnant Without A Cause

By Wilshire Lewis

Michelle Scharf has an insoluble problem—and it’s not that she is divorced and pregnant, or that she has no job or health insurance. It’s also not her reality-show romance with a man she can’t stand, or her fifteen-year-old-daughter Callie, who is terminally depressed and dreading another year as a high school nothingburger.
Michelle knows she has to give the baby up for adoption, an idea Callie adamantly opposes. When things get out of control and threaten to ruin both their lives even more, Callie comes up with a brilliant plan to solve all their . . . well, anyway most of their problems.
The solution, however, puts Michelle and Callie on a roller-coaster ride of half-truths, exaggerations and complications which take on a life of their own. Pregnant Without a Cause mixes teen angst with midlife crises and backstage drama in screwball plot that’s as old as vaudeville and as new as that reality show they just announced, you know, the one where the contestants have to . . . well, they really have gone too far now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wilshire Lewis
• Release date: Dec 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466011892

Wilshire Lewis

Fred Andersen is the author of novels, non-fiction, stories and articles (and poetry, but we don't talk about that)."The Dead Cartoonist" is a mystery about a successful but troubled comic strip creator who is kidnapped in Spain—or maybe he isn't. It's a story of suspense, drama, romance and foreign adventure. And it's stuffed with jokes and references to comics strips, comic books and universes, cartoons, animateds, and other pop culture junk."Pamela Carr," (2021) and "Lily Torrence" are classic noir mysteries set in 1940s Hollywood and based on real scandals and characters of that era, when glamour and ambition walk manicured hand and velvet glove with desperation and desire."A Line in the Sand" is a contemporary thriller rooted in the violence associated with drug cartels. and in stories of drug enforcement agents and members of organized crime families."Pregnant Without a Cause" is a screwball domestic comedy of teen angst, midlife crisis and reality TV. Michelle and her daughter Callie already have enough problems without adding a secret baby in their lives.Fred lives in Phoenix with his wife and family, but every summer contemplates moving to Lake Kookanusa, Montana, or some such place

Book preview

PREGNANT WITHOUT A CAUSE

BY

WILSHIRE LEWIS

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 by Wilshire Lewis and FAHP

All Rights Reserved.

CONTENTS

I. BABY BOOMER

II. THE SHOW

III. THE SHOWER

IV. ONE AFTERNOON

V. THE DIVE

VI. PROTECTIVE SERVICES

VII. PLAY THE FIGHT SONG

I. BABY BOOMER

CHAPTER ONE

It really annoyed Callie Scharf when know-it-alls blabbed about how children suffer from a divorce and blame themselves. Sure Callie suffered, but she knew who was responsible. Her father got 75% of the blame for being a selfish brute, and her mother 25% for being a hysterical twit. But herself? Zero percent. In fact, Null Set. She had other problems. School started Monday.

Callie walked down the main breezeway of Cholla Vista High School from the gym to the parking lot, the single sheet of her new class schedule waving in her hand with an immeasurable weight, an outline of her dread. The buildings and campus sat deserted and huge, baking. And waiting. Callie imagined the same sidewalk as it would be on Monday: crowded with students bumping shoulders, oozing attitude, shouting stupidities. Her peers.

So was she ready for school? She did the rundown. Massive thighs? Check. Hideous clothes? Definitely. Zits galore? Well, there was still time.

The sidewalk was speckled with dots of gray, green, and pink gum, dried and flattened into pepperonis on the concrete. Callie sighed. Could the idiots in this school possibly keep their gum in their sodding mouthes? She turned the corner and stepped out into the full force of the sun. Naturally it was hot. Phoenix. August. What else would it be but hot? Her mother’s car—complete with mother, code name Michelle—stood waiting at the edge of the frayed, empty parking lot. Callie opened the door and slid in. At least the air conditioning was already on. One brief shining moment in her day. She clicked the seat belt into place.

Her mother smiled at her with a cheerfully determined expression against which any and all complaints would be pulverized into little puffballs. Well, how’s it look?

Callie pulled the car door closed and stared at the massive school. She didn’t want to talk about it, she just wanted to go home. Not bad. I got Photo. And Zam’s in it.

A cell phone made a soft tinkle in the purse on the floor. Callie knew that in her mother’s condition it would be a struggle to reach that far, so she bent to retrieve it. Her mother put up her hand. No. It’s only Edouard. This week it’s nearly always Edouard.

Because of the show?

Of course, she sighed. What else?

Edouard was her mother’s on-again, off-again, off-again, off-again boyfriend. Not one of Callie’s favorite people, nor, she had thought until a few days ago, one of her mother’s. But then Edouard and Michelle became finalists on Fat Chance. And now they were definitely on-again, again. So Edouard would be back in Callie’s life. What a bonus.

Her mother started the car and drove toward the parking lot exit. Admit it, are you excited for school?

"Excited! Bollocks cheerful! Callie needed to make her see how awful this year was going to be. I do not want to go to school, Mom. At least not this school."

You don’t have to. The determined look hardened. Not until Monday.

Not until Monday. So amusing.

Her mother smiled. You are smart, pretty, friendly, funny. All she needed was pom poms. You have a lot going…

What I am is a great, fat cow.

Callie got that from BBC America, her choice of bad cable channels this summer. On BBC, any female, even a supermodel, could be a great, fat cow. It was funny. But she really was fat now, fatter than she had ever been. Callie knew there were more important things in life than looks. She knew her mother had much more important problems, what with her coming blessed event. But Callie’s selfish, petty problems hurt!

Well, there’s nothing you can do about that in one weekend. Calories in—

Callie did not want to hear it. "Yes, yes! Calorie algebra! A in minus B out equals your past, present, and future. Yes, I will remember that when those sodding cows give me a dirty look when they pass, like they are having to walk around the sodding iceberg that smashed the sodding Titan… She really had to stop it. I also got band. Marching around in that sod— that uniform will take ten pounds off. All it will be is water weight of course."

No, marching is calories out. Her mother slid her sunglasses up onto her hair like a barrette. "See, that’s problem solving. Like we’ve talked about."

God, not again. Callie closed her eyes. Her mother couldn’t see how hopeless it was. She had never been a toad. Though chubby, and at the moment big as an Escalade, Michelle had the kind of old-fashioned beauty Callie knew she had not inherited, including gorgeous honey-brown hair with natural blonde highlights.

You have such a great band. Her mother smiled stubbornly. I love to hear you guys.

Debbie Arthur graduated. Callie sighed.

Who’s Debbie Arthur?

"The glockenspiel? She’s the reason we went to State. She’s the one everyone cared about."

All right, all right!

They drove in silence through the relentless noontime. The single pedestrian they passed didn’t look sweaty, but you knew he had to be.

Yeah, said Callie, still staring out the window. So by Christmas, I can look forward to just being dumpy again, but not the Pillsbury Doughgirl.

Would that be better or worse?

Better, Callie grunted. But her Christmas look wouldn’t help her on Monday. "Hardly anyone has seen me this summer except Zam and Fiona. So everyone will notice that I’m fat. They won’t know my name or anything about me but that here’s this great fat prat of a cow. They won’t care."

Callie, dear, attitude is everything.

Oh, stow that. Callie turned away. "And what will I wear? She shouted at the window glass. That won’t make me look, A, bloated, or B, like I’m trying to hide my bloatedness?"

You’ve got some very nice clothes.

Callie slumped back into the seat, defeated. Oh, for a time machine or some similar miracle to get her to a slim, happy future where people actually liked her.

***

With this hopeless mood firmly in control of her daughter, Michelle decided to skip the lunch and shopping she had originally planned. By the time they arrived home, her appetite and energy were gone anyway. She made tuna melts and set them on the table, but then she told Callie, I’m going to go lie down. You eat.

Callie gave her that all-purpose guarded look that indicated disbelief, relief, concern, suspicion, and many other feelings. Are you okay?

Yeah, just tired out. Michelle assumed what she hoped was a benign expression. Nothing was okay, and might not be again. She walked through the house to her bedroom, pulled the chain on the ceiling fan and eased herself onto the bed.

Problem solving. It had been her watchword for months, trying to push Callie to deal with life as it was, in a rational way, rather than the pouting and throwing snits that seemed to be her first choice of response. A double pang of regret stabbed Michelle. Because of the taping on Monday, she would not be home when Callie left for her first day of sophomore year. No, it wasn’t the first day of kindergarten, but it was still important. So she had wanted them both to get a handle on things today. Get Callie her schedule, buy supplies, maybe some clothes. Whatever it took to put a smile on the girl’s face.

But Michelle knew her daughter’s life was not going to change due to a little shopping and some cheerful chatter. Because—the second pang—she herself was Callie’s biggest problem. Not in a superficial, do-your-homework-young-lady way, but in a profound and true way. It went way beyond the divorce, and the adjustments they’d had to make, all of them painful. Michelle could blame Craig for all those things, and she could almost believe that it had really been her ex-husband’s fault. But at night, in the dark, Michelle knew the harm she had caused, the bad things she had done. Each and every one.

The noontime sun made hot white slits around the edges of the blinds. If Michelle got up and pulled the curtains closed, the light leak would dim to a soft, indirect glow. But she was too tired to get up, and it was just a white strip. She hoisted herself over on her side and faced the wall. The air from the fan cooled her bare, damp arm.

How could she believably tell Callie to deal with life, when for months she had kept a secret simply because she knew how people would react to it. Like the secret’s father, Edouard. If she was going to tell him, she had better get cracking. Twenty-eight days left, and whatever doubts she still had, the papa needed to know.

She’d met Edouard a year ago, the month her divorce was final. He seemed nonjudgmental, kind-hearted, and for some reason infatuated with her. Their love warmed up quickly, particularly on a memorable night in Park City that still made her shiver with pleasure and dread. They had gone there for a Friends of Animals festival or fundraiser. Michelle wasn’t really sure—it was Edouard who was the friend of animals.

That had been the night. Michelle didn’t need a doctor with a calendar to tell her. There was no other possible night. The next night, feeling suddenly feverish and altogether dicey, she threw up on an ice sculpture of an Airedale terrier, and Edouard spent quite a few minutes trying to clean up the mess, which unfortunately bonded almost immediately to the bumpy coat of the ice dog, and the rest of the evening taking care of her. Later they laughed and laughed.

The good times continued for a while. In February, on a lark, they auditioned for Fat Chance, the couples challenge show. They decided that their challenge would be to lose 100 pounds between them in six months, and they both were excited about that. The show people were interested enough to bring them in for a second interview and taping session.

Meanwhile Michelle’s condition overrode her denial in April. The truth terrified her. What would Edouard say? He would want the baby, and her, wouldn’t he? She delayed telling him. But as the weeks went by, her fears seemed silly. Edouard was the only really happy thing in her life, and the people at the show told them they had a good chance to make the cast. Since she was pregnant and eating everything in sight, going on a diet was definitely out, but Fat Chance was not a weight-loss show, so she convinced Edouard to come up with some other interesting challenge before the real filming started. He had some ideas about a business catering weddings and other events at a wildlife preserve that made the producer’s eyes twinkle. Michelle decided the time had come to break the happy news to Edouard.

The words were almost on her lips when the show was cancelled. That didn’t really bother Michelle, though she could have used the money. But Edouard took it hard. In the next few weeks he seemed to withdraw from her into a secret spiral of depression and hostility. Michelle was shocked. Had she been nothing to him but a TV sidekick? She held on to her secret a little longer.

She had felt the wobbles in their relationship. At forty years old, she expected some of that. But Edouard just seemed to have lost his mind. Suddenly Michelle could never get a hold of him, and he would do things like send her flowers, and then when she called to thank him he acted so morose or impatient that it completely cancelled the positive effect of the thoughtful gift. As Michelle saw him less and less, any thought of raising a child together faded away. She would have the baby on her own, and deal with it on her own. No one would ever be able to accuse her of using a baby as a club on a poor, pudgy bachelor.

Then, day before yesterday, Fat Chance called. They were back on! Michelle and Edouard had been chosen as cast members, and filming started Monday, right here in Phoenix, and could they be there? My, how gloriously Edouard’s sun broke through to shine on her again! The cell phone she’d thought was broken now began to generate reams of affectionate data. After the first call she had felt excited and hopeful. Maybe it would work, after all. She decided to tell him this weekend, and tell the show people on Monday. And their new challenge could be having a baby. That seemed a lot more dramatic than anything else they’d thought of. And working through the problems she’d had with Edouard this summer—the inability to communicate, the withdrawal— all that. Maybe, just maybe, they would become a real couple. And even more maybe-ish, they would get married.

But then Edouard called back again, and again, full of plans. With each call Michelle grew more depressed and angry. He had some new ideas he wanted to pitch to the TV people and vague, happy dreams for him and her. It was like the miserable summer never happened. And she really resented that, because he had been awful to her.

Michelle lay there staring at the picture on the nightstand. Herself with Callie five or six years ago, when her girl was only nine, with big uncertain teeth bursting out of a confident smile. Only Callie and Michelle’s mother knew the secret of her pregnancy, and Callie had been a great comfort, but she was having a tough time already. And now add Edouard to the family, and a baby? And what kind of a start was she giving the baby in all that possible, or potential—alright probable turmoil. And could Michelle even see herself living with and loving Edouard?

She could not. The time had come to seriously consider Plan B.

Callie came into the room, a look of concern on her face. She sat on the edge of the bed, and clasped Michelle’s hand.

Michelle said, I was going to tell him tonight.

Callie nodded. You probably should.

No. It’s too late.

Still a month.

No. Michelle squeezed her daughter’s hand. It’s too late for me and him. Edoo’s story is not about getting married and having a baby. His story is about how this is the start of his career in TV. He won’t understand why I waited to tell him. He will hate me.

When he sees you he’ll know you’re preggers.

No. No one can tell. How could they, such a great old cow.

Well, I can almost see how you could get it over on Edoo. But at the show they’ll know it in a minute. Then how will he feel?

Yes, that would be even worse. He’ll be humiliated. I’ll be… Michelle saw that it wouldn’t work. So there goes the show. Bye-bye easy money.

"If you do that, he’ll kill you even worse. He won’t have a partner. It’s a couples challenge."

Michelle was all too aware of that. She sat up, panting from that little effort, and placed her fingers on the soft, round world that contained her troubled baby boy. She forced back tears Callie could not be allowed to see.

I’ve got some errands. She stood up, found her shoes, and went into the bathroom to check her face in the mirror. The baby kicked Michelle in the liver. He did that whenever Michelle thought about rejecting him. She had not told Callie about the adoption agency. Plan B.

***

Normally, we like to have more lead time, said the adoption counselor. That way we can work with expectant mothers.

Michelle sighed. The lady was obviously implying that Michelle had not only been irresponsible in getting pregnant, but also slack about the adoption. I filled out the papers in July. But I had doubts.

No worries. The adoption woman had the cutest little crinkle in her forehead when she smiled. We can provide resources. The woman had come out from behind her oak laminate desk and pulled up a chair facing Michelle—a move clearly intended to establish rapport. A very human thing to do. So why did it make Michelle feel crowded? She eased herself up a little straighter in the chair, giving her knees an extra inch of space.

I’m sure you have other mothers who need resources more than I do, Michelle said, referring to what she assumed was the typical unwed mother: poor, ignorant, and victimized. True, Michelle was poor and jobless, she had been victimized by Craig in the divorce, by her last employer when they fired her to get her off their medical plan, and by Edouard when he turned out to be such a fatuous jerk, but at least no one could say that she was ignorant. Even if she had skipped most of her prenatals, which was a result of the getting laid off part. This is my second child. I imagine you mostly get young girls, confused.

You might be surprised. There’s no such thing as a typical birth mother considering adoption. And you don’t have to be young to be confused.

Michelle did not quite know how to take that last part, but there was that adorable crinkle again. The lady seemed very accepting, as adoption ladies must tend to be. It’s what they do. Accept. Receive.

I simply can’t care for him now. For family reasons. You see, the father disappeared. Yeah, the man was still there, but the potential husband and father Michelle had been looking for in him had probably never existed.

We have a number of great families looking for infants and newborns. Newborns in particular, well, they’re gold. The woman flipped through the papers on her lap. I’ve identified one in particular. And we can give you a lot of input. Based on your preferences.

I want to make a clean break. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want to form an attachment. The baby in her belly felt like he rolled his shoulders and that seemed to dislodge a gas bubble, which Michelle strove to contain. He had Boogie Fever today.

I understand. We can handle that. The adoption lady glanced at a form on top of the pile. You prefer a traditional adoption.

Traditional?

Closed. No contact. Records sealed.

A clean break.

And a final break. I’m not saying there will never be contact. But it probably won’t be until the child reaches legal age.

Michelle took another tissue from the box on the desk. She thought she was doing pretty well, handling her emotions with stoic grace, but now she noticed her left hand already clutched a sizable wad of damp tissues.

We won’t abandon you, though. We have resources for postpartum.

Postpartum. To go through pregnancy and birth and then just walk out of the hospital like she’d had her gall bladder out. It was the most horrible thing Michelle could imagine. That was one reason it had taken her so long to accept what she had to do. She sighed. There’s no resource that’s going to solve my problems. I’m a walking, talking, pissing, puking disaster area. Hurricane Michelle, that’s me.

Ma’am? The adoption lady leaned toward Michelle and gave her hand a firm pat. We can handle it.

***

Callie was excited that she would soon be able to tell Zam about her baby brother. It had been tough not telling him, since he’d been almost her only confidante through the microwave summer. But she had done it. Soon she could tell him. But not until her mom spoke to Edouard tonight.

For now, they sat on opposite ends of the couch tapping texts at each other.

Callie 4:19 pm: Eye aint going to skool b sure to make sum nyz pics in foto class.

Shaking his head, full of indignance, Zam popped keys.

Zam 4:19 pm: You are a ridiculous poonhead.

Callie 4:20 pm: I am so srious. Will b kidnapt this wkend. Want to help?

While Zam thumbed his reply, Callie glanced at the TV, which you could tell, even