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Show All the Variables & Other Love Stories 21 comforter. My mind raced. I felt sick to my stomach. I said, "Don't lay down and let them eat you and say you owe it to them. You don't owe anyone. Don't do this because you've been taught your whole life it's the right thing to do. Look at me, Brandon. Fuck them all." "It's not right," Brandon pled. He was crying hard now. "It's not right that you get a girl pregnant and then don't marry her? Is it right you marry a girl you don't love? Is it right to make you raise a kid you conceived by accident? Is it right to make you give up your dream, Brandon, is that right?" I could hear myself getting hysterical. My voice broke and rose, and I had to stop to collect myself. I was scared for both of us, of a future in which every action was to be half-doubted, a time when nothing was certain and men like Dad were mortal. We stared at each other, both of us stunned. "If you're still single tomorrow morning, you will have earned all my respect," I said, "but I don't think you have the balls to do what you want. If you want to play baseball, do it. If you want to marry her, marry her. Just don't do it because it's the right thing to do." I told him to collect himself and come see what Mom wanted. Then I got Michaela a can of root-beer and rejoined the jury. "He's coming," I told Mom, and positioned myself next to Dad against the back fence. Fifteen minutes passed and Mom came to find me. "What was he doing?" I didn't know how to explain so I just shrugged. A few minutes later she asked me again to go get him, but I told her he'd be out in a minute, cool your jets. |
