That "Love" Girl
Chapter Twelve
By Rachel Rene
Now the tears were flowing again, and
Peter had to get Kari a glass of water and some tissues. "I couldn't
think straight. My dad wouldn't even listen to what happened, and
he didn't even know the half of my troubles. But I wasn't mad at
him...I was mad at myself for not listening. It never would've happened
if only I had obeyed my dad. I knew it wasn't easy for him to take
care of my brothers and me without mom. By then, she had been dead
for like eight months or so, and he was just getting over the shock.
I was angry that he wouldn't listen, though."
"Wait a sec, Kar. I have a question."
"Yeah, Pete?" she looked at him as she wiped her
eyes, glad to take a break.
"If you're pregnant, how come you're never sick
in the morning?"
"'Cause I'm lucky. I don't get morning sickness
like most women. I do get a big appetite, though. And mood
swings."
"Fun," Mike muttered sarcastically.
"Oh, it is. Lots of fun," Kari looked at the
cup she held in her hands. After a few moments, she looked back into
the concerned and curious faces of her friends. "I, I tried to tell
him. I did. Every time I stepped out of my room to talk to
him, he just zoned me out. He wouldn't listen, and I don't blame
him. I decided I was going to tell him even if he didn't answer back.
It had been about five weeks since the incident, and he hadn't said anything
more to me than what he said when I first got home. He was watching
the television, and I said, 'I don't care if you listen or not, but I need
to tell you. It's just as hard for me to tell you as it is for you
to listen. I know you can hear me, Daddy.' He didn't even move.
So I continued, 'Well...this isn't easy. I went to the doctor's today...and
they said I was pregnant.
"He didn't let me continue, he suddenly came to
life and went into that yelling mode again. I tried to talk over
him but he just got louder. So I got louder, and I was screaming
just to try to make him listen. My little brother Joey, he's ten,
was crying and yelling at us to stop fighting. My dad flipped out
and the next thing I knew he struck Joey across the face... He didn't mean
to, I know he didn't. Once he saw what he had done, my dad fell to
his knees and held his face in his hands. He didn't say anything,
but kept crying. I helped Joey to his room, and put him to bed.
I told him never to tell anyone what happened, and that dad still loved
him. Then Joey said, 'How come he doesn't love you anymore?'
I didn't know what to say. Finally I answered. 'He still loves me...
he just needs reminding.' That's when I decided that he needed time
to think just as much as I did.
"I thought about running away. I went to my
oldest brother's house to tell him what I was planning on doing, and he
lent me some money. It wasn't much, but at least it was something.
He told me to at least say goodbye to the rest of my brothers, that they
wouldn't tell dad. When I told them, the youngest ones didn't understand.
I couldn't even bring myself to tell them why, except that both dad and
I needed time away from each other. I never told any of them (except
Travis, the one that lent me money) that I was pregnant. I have five
brothers... I miss them all so much. The youngest is
turning seven in three months, his name is Kenneth. Then Joey.
Next there's Brady, he just turned fourteen. Adam's sixteen, and
Travis is twenty-one.
It was hard for Karisma to go on, and the others
didn't want to force her to tell them any more.
"Do you want to stop and eat breakfast?" asked Micky.
Kari shook her head, "I have to get this out...
I'm not very hungry right now, anyway."
"Yeah, I've kinda lost me appetite, too." Davy said.
"I don't mean to just suddenly flood all of this
on you guys, but I had to tell you sometime... I'll be showing in another
month or two."
"How many months along are ya?" Mike asked Kari.
"About four. I don't know what I'm going to
do with the baby."
"Keep it," Peter answered, as if it were the only
option.
"I know, I want to... No matter what I'm not getting
an abortion. But what kind of a mother can I be?"
"A great one," Mary smiled warmly, "We'll help you.
My mom was only about nineteen or twenty when she had me, and I still came
out okay. I thinkâ€|"
Kari was thankful for the little bit of humor Mary
tried to bring into the moment. She forced a smile and leaned over
to hug Mary. "Thank you guys so much for understanding. I feel
a lot better now that I've told someone."
"You're not done yet, babe." Micky said, "What happened
next? Did you run away?"
"No. After I packed my suitcase, I realized
that running away would just make it worse for the baby. What if
I gave birth to the baby as a poor runaway? I couldn't put it through
all of that.
"So I asked my dad for some money, instead.
He actually gave it to me, too. He said he didn't care anymore, that
I could do whatever I wanted. But
I know he cares, because he always puts more money in my account every
week. If he really didn't care, he'd just throw me out in the world
without any resources. It was up to me to get my own house and my
own job, but he really helped getting me started.
"I haven't seen my dad or brothers since I left...
Every once ina while Icall Travis to check up on my brothers. Brady
was more than a brotherto me, he was like my best friend, even though we
had five years between us. I didn't even get to give him his birthday
present."
"What were you going to give him?" Mary asked, even
she hadn't heard the whole story yet.
"Orbie. Brady always wanted a gerbil, but
my mom detested rodents. When she died, my dad wouldn't let him get
one either. I asked him if I could get
a gerbil for Brady's birthday, but he didn't answer me. So I
bought it anyway, but never had a chance to give it to him."
Peter, once again asking questions a little slow
in the topic, said, "How much money did your dad give you? Because
you couldn't buy all of the groovy
stuff you own just from an allowance."
"Well, my dad isn't my only source of money," Kari
answered. "I can afford everything I own because of my old job that
my dad didn't even know I had."
"I'm afraid to ask what it was..."
Smiling, Kari shook her head, "Nothing like that.
But my dad had this theory that people under the age of eighteen shouldn't
be working, that they still need their parents to finance for them.
So if he found out I had a job, he would make me quit. I was sixteen
when I started, and I've been saving every penny of it for the past three
years."
Mike inquired, "But ya can't live that well off
of a small savings from a high school job?"
"Unless the job pays well. I'm- I was- an
industrial designer. I'd be paid to come up with designs for anything
from clothes to candles to furniture. I've even made some things
of my own to sell. They wanted someone young but with talent, someone
who knew what groovy kids wanted, someone contemporary."
"So are you famous in the design industry?" Micky
asked excitedly.
Laughing, Kari shrugged, "A little, I guess.
I'm not very big, but I've had some famous people ask me for advice or
to design something for them."
"That's why you have such outta sight chairs and
stuff," Mary realized, "I knew they must have been expensive."
"Some of them I've even made or at least designed
myself. But a lot of it is complimentary gifts from other designers
or manufacturing companies. Like Breuer's Wassily in the living room,
it's the first chair made with a bent tubular steel frame. Or the
Daffodil and Jonquil chairs from the Lavernes' 'Invisible Group' collection.
My most recent gift is the Culbuto (designed by Marc Held), the orange
and white one in the rec. room, from Knoll International in New York."
"So, these companies just send you these expensive
chairs and couches in exchange fer yer designs?" Mike questioned.
"Pretty much. I still keep the rights to my
designs, so I'm credited for them. I get paid with money, sometimes,
too, which is how I afforded the house. The gifts are just promotionals
to new industrial designers, like myself."
Micky said, "And you gave this up for being a waitress
why?"
Karisma giggled, then answered, "Because I wanted
to be like any other normal 19-year-old. I don't want to move to
New York to become a big designer, I want to be able to have a nice, slow
life in a place not too far away from my brothers. The Orange Ballerina's
just a temporary gig, anyway. What I really want to do is own my
own shop with my designs and even stuff I made by hand."
"As psychojello as all this is," Mike interrupted,
"My stomach's finally startin' ta come 'round."
"Yeah, it's about time to eat, I think." Kari agreed.
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