Every Square Inch of My Grand Am is Filled

Every square inch of my new 1988 Pontiac Grand Am is filled, but  somehow a little disappointment and shame managed to squeeze in.

Thankfully, relief found some space as well. It definitely holds more than the Celica would have and it’s more practical. 

That’s what I need right now, practical.

I am happy that my life-long wish to live in Colorado is coming true.

I’m even happier my baby will be a native.

I’ve only made three payments on this car; the ink was still drying on the GMC first-time buyer’s paperwork my Dad co-signed when I found out I was pregnant.

I waited until we dropped him off at the airport before sharing my suspicion with my Mom. 

She promptly bought a pregnancy test.

It took forever for the next morning to arrive, all the while my Mom assuring me that while they would be disappointed, I had their support.

During my weekend home, no one had suspected anything. I was still holding out hope my period would start. My grandmother did slip me a crisp new hundred-dollar bill to be sure I got something to eat over her concern for how thin I was.

I had dropped a few pounds, but it wasn’t from lack of food, but rather a loss of appetite due to nausea in recent weeks.

The blue double-line appeared on the stick. I had the next six hours to decide how I was going to break the news to the father.

Father!? Neither of us was prepared or ready to be parents, him less so.

My family, but especially my father, was against us moving to Minnesota after I graduated. He didn’t approve of us living together, but I did move out due to our constant fighting, but living apart didn’t prevent me from getting knocked up.

Our relationship isn’t stable, but we do love each other.

Is that enough to raise a baby?

We did all the “right” things. He proposed, I moved back in with him, and we set a date. My closest friend, who offered to host the wedding in her backyard, also imparted her middle-aged wisdom that: This is the 80’s! You no longer have to get married just because you’re pregnant.

I called off the wedding and took my parents up on their offer.

It’s funny how my father wasn’t going to be able to attend the wedding due to a conflict with work, but he had no problem driving his truck in to pick up a load of my belongings last weekend before flying in to Minneapolis this weekend to drive me and the rest of my stuff to Colorado.

It nearly broke my heart to imagine my daddy not giving me away. Him not being able to attend the wedding was his way of showing his disapproval.

Who can blame him? After all, he was the one dealing with the repercussions of my toxic relationship in more ways than financially.

The partying continued, only I no longer participated.

I spent the 4th of July alone. Crying in our apartment, while he went to a party with friends. I was pretty sure he was hooking up with another girl. A girl who had been to our apartment on more than one occasion.

It wouldn’t be the first ‘friend’ he slept with.

Even the Grand Am isn’t without its scars. 

With its passenger window broken out and the rear passenger tire shredded when I drove through the glass attempting to get away from my boyfriend’s drunken anger.

I haven’t been this far west in Nebraska before and the last time I was here was for a wedding in Omaha. My Celica got hit in the hotel parking lot. It would be much later before my boyfriend confessed to actually wrecking it into a light pole after the bachelor party.

The mountains are coming into view.

I brush my tongue across my lower teeth. My chipped tooth, compliments of a swift backhand, serves as a reminder of what I am leaving behind along with my beloved 45-record collection that didn’t fit.

My boyfriend was none too pleased when he read my letter to a friend telling her about my transgression with Rod Hart, one of the dancers from the U.S. Male show.

 

Rod (L) was intelligent, kind, and we locked eyes the moment he stepped on stage! He called a few weeks later from the road. Who knows what would have been possible, if the timing were different.

Rod, with his bulging bronzed muscles, pearly white teeth, and perfectly coiffed hair with appropriate height and length for the time, was the polar opposite of my boyfriend. Hair excluded.

It’s a good thing I had my period the night we met, otherwise I might be wondering if this is his child. The Playgirl magazine Rod’s featured in did fit.

My parents were right, if I was going to keep this baby, I needed to give this little one, us, the best possible chance to be happy and healthy.

After all, we’re past the point of no return.

I had elected to disregard my doctor’s advice to have an abortion over concern of the possible birth defects associated with being on the pill while pregnant. Although I’m sure he was taking my unmarried 19-year-old status and no nearby family into consideration as well. I somehow felt that if there were any issue, I would miscarry. If not, I was meant to have it. Regardless, I am grateful I was given a choice.

I’m excited to join them in their new home near Denver where my dad has been commuting for work with Continental Airlines for the past five years. My mom and younger brother recently moved there after having sold our family home in Kansas. A lot has happened in the three months since I bought this car.

I don’t know what the future holds for me and my baby, but I do know we have the safe, loving support we need right now.