I'd put it off as long as I could, but I was sure my parents would sense something different about me. I mean, I hid the morning sickness pretty well, and it wasn't really that bad. I just had it once in awhile and mostly at night, not in the mornings at all. My tummy wasn't showing yet, but my breasts were more sensitive, a little puffy too, I thought. But that could have been only my imagination.

I wondered for the hundredth time if I should really be talking to both of them. Maybe getting my mom alone would be better. Certainly not Daddy though, he could be too over-protective as it was. When he found out, it was going to be bad. I needed to tell him though, and for sure Mom wouldn't tell him. She'd want to, just to protect me, but she also knew that I had responsibilities ... and owning up to the fact that I was pregnant was one of them.

It was all David's fault anyway. I frowned at myself in the mirror. I looked blurry and I wiped at the fog from my recent hot shower. I'm only sixteen anyway, just really starting to feel comfortable with myself. Or I was. It seemed like every month for the last two years I'd changed, becoming someone else. My boobs got bigger, my baby fat started going away. My body started looking like I had some muscle tone instead of just soft all over. People used to say I was cute, now they told me I was beautiful. But here I was, changing again.

I put the palm of my hand on my tummy, pushing a little, just to see if I might be able to feel anything. But I couldn't, of course. It was still too soon. But sometimes I could feel something moving, just a little, and the first time it happened, just a few days before, I'd sat down and cried. I don't know why. I hadn't been sad or anything. I think I'd sorta liked it. But I'd only felt it twice, maybe three times since then, and that third time might have been the pizza I'd eaten earlier for lunch.

I leaned close to the mirror, looking at my face. It looked like I was crying again, because my hand had made little drops of water where I'd wiped the glass and they ran down my reflection slowly. My green eyes were clear though, maybe a little tired looking, but not so bad. Not like I feared. I'd been having a hard time falling asleep. I licked my lips and opened my mouth, looking at my white, even teeth before I brushed them. I'd been looking through pregnancy stuff. You know, pamphlets and articles in magazines and stuff like that. Not really looking for it, not being obvious, but when you really are pregnant ... Well, I'd never noticed those things before. But now it seemed like I saw it everywhere I looked.

One thing I'd read said that babies steal calcium from the mother. There was an old saying in the article, 'Have a baby, lose a tooth.' I'd worn braces for eighteen months. The thought of losing one of my teeth, even one of the ones in the very back where no one would know, filled me with a very real fear. I'd started drinking about a gallon of milk a day now and that was another reason my parents were wondering about me, or so I thought.

And David. I'd called him, when I'd gone about six days late and really started to worry...

"David?" I held the phone close to my mouth, cupping it as I whispered. "I'm late!"

"Huh?" He was drinking something and it sounded pretty annoying, that soft electric gurgle.

"I'm late. I think..." I looked around and lowered my voice, " ... I think I'm pregnant."

"Really?" That noise stopped then. "How, uh ... late? You mean your menses ... right?"

"My period, David. Yeah." I frowned at him, even though he couldn't see it. "Six days. I've never..."

"Okay."

" ... gone six days, David, and..."

"Right. Okay, Lisa."

" ... I'm scared David!"

"Can I talk?" He used his sarcastic voice, maybe knowing that it would at least snap me out of my panic. Anger was better than panic, right? "Thank you. Have you tested yourself?"

"Tested? No. What test ... I'm late. I told you..."

"Girls are late all the time, believe me." He sounded bored, doubtful even, and I'd expected a bit more excitement out of him. But David has five sisters, and he is a doctor, so he did know what he was talking about. I knew he'd probably seen his share of panic.

" ... But I..."

"Even girls who are never late, Lisa. Now listen, I'll meet you right after school tomorrow. Okay? Just come by the clinic first thing and we'll find out for sure."

"But I have cheerleading and..." I felt suddenly reluctant; bad news can do that to a person. I went to the clinic every day, but now...

"Cheerleading can wait, Lisa," he chuckled softly. "Besides, if you are pregnant then cheerleading practice becomes a little ... pointless, don't you think?"

I wished he hadn't said that. I'd almost calmed down.

"Oh God!" I moaned into the phone. "But you said..."

"Shhh ... Quiet now. Go lie down, read a book, paint your nails or something and I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?"

I nodded uselessly. "Do you think..."

"No, not right now. It was just one time, Lisa," he said. "A really small chance, okay? Now, I've got to go ... so you just relax."

"But..." I sighed. He was right, as usual. "I love you, David."

"I love you too, Lisa," his voice sounded gentle, as it always did when he said it.

All of that had happened almost a month before and our one time had been more than enough, at least for me, and we'd done it a lot of times, actually. I'd gotten very, totally pregnant. David bought me an ice cream cone at Baskin-Robbins after we found out for certain. We took our cones outside, into sunshine so bright it didn't seem like there could be anything wrong anyplace. But there was.

"What am I going to do?" I sat on the top of a plastic picnic table, my feet on the bench next to my book bag.

David sat like a normal person, on the bench on the other side, facing my back and his voice seemed to come from nowhere. "You're not going to get an abortion or anything, right?" He was worried suddenly that I'd change my mind, now that I really was pregnant.

"No!" I hadn't even considered that as a remote possibility. I'd been born and raised seriously Catholic, but even if I wasn't, the idea of killing ... of doing that..."No," I shook my head.

"Good." He'd started crunching his waffle cone already and I'd barely eaten any of my pistachio.

"But what am I going to do?" I repeated, feeling like I'd start crying any second. I wished it would rain.

"Don't do anything. Just take care of yourself." I felt his hand rubbing my back. "You'll be a good mother, Lisa."

I snorted. "Yeah right!" I jerked away from him. "Thanks a lot. You got me into this, David. It's your fault, you know!"

"Oh now, Lisa..." he sighed. "You weren't complaining either."

"No." I knew he was right and I hadn't been complaining at all. I'd been excited and hot and ... and irresponsible, I told myself. David had warned me, told me what could happen. Asked me if I was sure and I'd smiled and giggled and flirted and done everything I could to get ... pregnant. But only because I hadn't seriously thought I actually would.

I swallowed hard and tossed my ice cream away. A tear was running down my cheek.

"I'm going home." I picked up my book bag and I didn't look back.

"Call me, Lisa," David said as I left. "I need to see you. Everyday, remember?"

"Yeah." I wiped at my cheek and waved over my shoulder. I'd feel bad later for wanting to hurt him like that, but...

Part of being Catholic, maybe the best part, is the guilt. And I don't mean that in some weird self-abuse way. I mean it in the sense that guilt is in our nature. We're born guilty and then baptized, and then we sin, and we go to confession ... It's a natural part of our lives. To have regrets and seek forgiveness. I was comfortable with it. I liked it and I even understood it, although I think most people don't.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It's been two weeks since my last confession." I said the words the way I always did at St. Benedict's, but this time they felt ... heavier. Like they meant something.

"The Lord is listening, my child. Confess your sins with an open heart and the Lord will forgive you."

"Yes Father. I, uh ... I lied to my mom, a couple times about going to my friend's house after school. I went to, um ... see my boyfriend. And I swore. I said damn once, when my pen leaked at school. It ruined my skirt, Father, and made a blue spot..." I paused knowing I was avoiding what I really wanted to say, " ... on my thigh."

"I see."

It was quiet for a long time and I wondered if father McDougal had gone asleep. But he hadn't. He just knew everything there was to know about confession. He'd been a priest for 51 years, at least that's what he always said.

I sighed. "Father, I ... I'm not a virgin anymore."

"Uhhhh..." he made a sound and I didn't know what it meant. We sat there a few more minutes, very quietly.

"I had sex and, um..." I swallowed and squinched my nose like I do when I really don't want to say something, " ... I'm pregnant, Father."

I started crying then, not a few little tears either. This was the cry I'd been waiting for. Ten days after I'd found out I was pregnant and I hadn't let it go until then. I pulled up my knees, hugging them to my breasts and I wailed, rocking and bumping my back again the heavy dark wood behind me. It hurt, like a headache, like a cramp in my tummy. It hurt like someone was dying and I couldn't stop it.

I cried for a long time and Father McDougal left his half of the confessional and came to mine, opening the door and helping me out. He gave me a handkerchief and brought me to the side of the alter, by the statue of the Virgin Mary, and we sat down on the steps there at her feet. I hid my face in that white shroud of cloth, soaking it with shame and afraid to look up.

"Am I going to hell, Father?" I asked softly.

"No." He sat very close to me and his voice seemed old and dry like sandpaper.

"I didn't mean to get pregnant." I rolled my head on my shoulders. "I thought ... I just thought..."

"Does the child's father know?" he asked me gently and I nodded. "And how does he feel about it."

I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. I only sat there and shivered and so Father McDougal doubtless thought the worst.

"I've been a priest 51 years, Lisa, and I've seen this before." His voice was meant to comfort, but his words were only making it worse for me. "A child is a great gift, however it comes. But too often we forget that and we see only the problems, only the fears such a miracle brings ... As any miracle must bring. The task is not to deliver the baby, that will happen in its own good time. What we must do is reconcile this with our families, his and yours. The way must be prepared through love and compassion and understanding."

"But, Father..." I glanced up, looking at the man through puffy eyes and a veil of damp, blonde hair.

He smiled and shushed me. "Talk to your family. I'm sure they don't know yet, do they?" His ancient eyes, grey and somehow warm, stared knowingly into mine. "Talk to them. It will be difficult, but you're a strong young woman, Lisa. You don't have to be afraid, believe me. Your parents will overcome their fear and anger and you'll find that your life isn't over..." he shook his head, still smiling, " ... but only beginning anew."

I nodded, fearing my voice should I try to speak and we said the Act of Contrition together, there with Jesus on one side, bloodied and sad; and his Mother on the other, Mary, quietly triumphant in her purity. I felt like an imposter and it was a relief to leave that church.

I'd seen David everyday, even on weekends, for almost three months, but now it felt different. It seemed more real. He did his best for me, keeping my spirits up. Checking me to see if I'd gained any weight or whatever. I didn't really know. He checked my blood, for sugar, I think he'd said once, but for other stuff too. He'd grown incredibly excited and at times his good mood seemed infectious and I would find myself smiling, laughing the way I used to. But at other times it annoyed me, his casual attitude. He didn't know what I was going through. His promises of support fell on deaf ears. I didn't need him, I would scream, running back into the street. Walking home alone and usually crying on those days.

It was time. There was only one cure for what was hurting me so badly. I had to tell the truth finally. I had to tell my parents. And I had to do it alone, although I could have had David there or Father McDougal, certainly. But no, this had to be all mine. This moment of ultimate cleansing, my absolution, I hoped.

"Mom..." I smiled at her and she smiled back, uncertain why we were sitting so quietly in the living room. "Daddy..." I smiled at him too, sitting on the sofa, but he was only looking at me, suspiciously, I thought. My smile faded as well and I looked down at my hands.

"What is it dear?" My mother, predictably, was the one to speak.

"I, uh ... I have something to tell you and, um ... I don't..." I looked up at the ceiling, biting my lip and willing myself not to cry. Not now. "I don't know how to ... say it."

"Well, out with it..." My father crossed his arms across his chest defensively.

He knows! I thought and I felt as if a fist had just seized my heart.

"What is it, Lisa?" Mom started to get up, she wanted to come over and touch me. I couldn't ... I didn't want that!

"I..." I looked down again, " ... I'm pregnant."

My mom sat back down.

I remember ... I remember...

David. Tall and handsome, standing there in his dark trousers and blue shirt. His tie undone, no ... just loosened. And his coat, the long white lab smock that doctors wear, the pockets overflowing with devices and things and stuff. I loved him then. That first day when I'd seen him, but he hadn't seen me yet. Love at first sight.

I followed him inside a few moments later and he wasn't there at first, but then he came back into the front office from wherever in the back he'd gone, and he saw me. More, it was the first time I imagined myself a woman rather than a girl. The world had stopped and I looked at his face, into his eyes, looking for something there ... Love. Recognition. Some sign that he would know me already, the way I felt I knew him. He was my Prince Charming clothed in white and I'd waited my whole life for him. All sixteen years of it.

He stuck his tongue out, just a little the way he does, and tilted his head away, pointing with his chin. "Are you here for ... Trixie?"

I thought about that for a second, trying to understand what a trixie was. "No," I shook my head.

"Oh." He looked at me. I had no name for him yet, and he smiled, giving me a small one that made my knees feel like I was standing on a trampoline. "Uh, I'm Dr. Stevenson. What can I do for you?"

I was so busy thinking about my knees and how his eyes were just a shade lighter than brown ... hazel, I thought...

"What?" I blinked at him. "Oh. I'm, um..." he smiled as I stammered, " ... Trixie." I felt my face burning. "No ... Lisa! I'm Lisa and, uh ... I'm going to leave now and move to..." I rolled my eyes, " ... Brazil ... now." I turned around, but my eyes couldn't keep from looking at him.

"Wait," he laughed. "Uh ... Do you want some gum?" He reached in his pocket and pulled out some candy. "It's sugarless."

I laughed too and I was still blushing and feeling very silly, but it seemed sort of okay. "Yeah." I walked closer, reaching out. "Long as it's sugarless."

So we stood there, the young, attractive doctor and the even younger, attractive catholic schoolgirl, chewing our gum. And smiling.

"So you're not here for Trixie," he nodded. "Mmmm ... I don't see anybody behind you." He grinned and made a little show of peeking around me. "So either you really needed some gum, or ... You're here about the job?"

"Oh." I looked around. It looked like a pretty ordinary doctor's office. I mean, a small one, like a little check-up family place or something. I didn't know anything about a job, but I didn't let a silly thing like ignorance stop me either. If whatever it was meant being close to this man ... I sighed.

"Yeah," I nodded, smiling brightly. "The job."

"Okay," he dipped his head as he said it slowly, his voice dropping as well, as if there might be just a hint of doubt there.

He crossed his arms over his chest and I was sort of hoping we could sit down and maybe talked a little, gotten to know each other...

But instead he asked me, "So why are you interested in this position, Lisa?"

I really liked the way he said my name. A lot. "Well, uh ... I, my Daddy ... my Dad ... told me I should look for a job. Learn some responsibility, you know?"

"I see," he nodded. "And, um ... how old are you now?"

"I'm sixteen." I kind of clenched my teeth the way I do when I'm lying my butt off. "I'm almost 17 though." I'd turned 16 barely two months before.

"Well, you know this ... position, requires some..." he bobbed his head from side to side, " ... rather unusual ... skills."

"Oh, right," I agreed. "I know and I'm ... well ... I can learn. I'm very smart and I'm a hard worker. I promise!"

"I'm sure you are, Lisa," he chuckled. "When can you start?"

"Oh!" I felt my heart thumping like crazy! He couldn't mean I had the job already, could he? "Anytime! Right now?"

"Well, right now is a little soon," he said gently. "First, we need to get some physical information. Take some blood and some urine and make sure you're the right girl for the job, and then..."

"Blood?" I stepped back involuntarily. "Urine? You mean..." I looked down subconsciously.

"I'm afraid so, Lisa. So if, uh ... you don't want the job, I understand. Believe me. It's okay."

"I want it," I decided and looking into his eyes left me little doubt.

Would anyone believe me if I told them that I had no idea how I'd come to be in that particular place at that particular time? On the street, I mean, outside a small doctor's office. I try to remember sometimes where I'd thought I was going, or what I'd been running away from. There are only so many reasons a person can have for being somewhere and Fate isn't one of them. Is it? But I can tell you exactly why I stayed, as if it isn't obvious already. David. Beautiful, kind, confident, generous David. It wasn't fair, you know, finding him so early in my life. A girl of sixteen should never meet the man of her dreams, but not because she hasn't had enough of them yet.

I sat there, alone on the sofa in my parent's house, and put my arms around my tummy protectively. I was still small, of course, and there was nothing to see, but my parents both stared. First at my face, then at my stomach, and then slowly, finally, back up and into my eyes. I wasn't crying, not yet.

"Who is he?" Daddy's voice sounded like a low growl and I cringed.

"He's, um..." I sighed. I didn't know what to say and I glanced at my mother, but she had three fingers over her open mouth, sitting back as if posing for a Norman Rockwell painting. Theatrically shocked, but without being aware of it.

Neither of them spoke. They were waiting for me and I couldn't say anything. So we sat there and the room was so quiet. Sunlight flew through the windows and I could see the dust in the barely moving air. Dust in my mother's spotless house and a baby in her daughter's spotless womb. I did cry then, because tears cannot stand silence. It draws them out like a sponge and I made no move to wipe at my cheeks. I just held my tummy and that was the worst perhaps.

Daddy left me there, getting up slowly and walking upstairs to his bedroom, probably to lie down. The motion spurred Mom into motion as well and she sat quickly next to me, her arms enfolding me, pulling me to her breast. There was no longer any hesitation or doubt for her. She was my mother and we didn't speak for some while.

"I'll make you some hot chocolate. Do you want some hot chocolate? I'll make some." Mom started getting up and I looked at her, not knowing until right then that she'd been crying too, and I felt a little selfish and ashamed. "Hot chocolate," she said as she left, going into the kitchen.

I wiped my hand across my face and stood up, taking a deep breath. I felt like I'd been curled up into a little ball and I stretched and made my way upstairs slowly. I went to my bedroom, opening the door and walking in before I fully realized Daddy was in there. He sat on the chair in the corner. It was too small for him, but he sat in it anyway.

"Hi," I said in a little voice and I stood there for a moment before finally sitting on the bed. Not really facing him, but not facing away either. I was in the middle, waiting for him to tell me what to do.

"Lisa," his voice sounded ... defeated, I thought.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I..."

But he'd already started shushing me. "What happened? Just tell me, okay? Why?" And that last word came out so plaintive and pleading. What had he done wrong? it asked me, and I could hear the guilt in his voice.

"I'm in love." I stared at the door of my closet, straight ahead, and my hands fluttered in my lap.

"Love," he sighed.

"His name is David. He's a doctor and I love him and he ... he's smart, Daddy."

"Smart?" my father laughed at me sadly. "A doctor? Not some kid on the football team?"

He didn't believe me, I thought. "We met five months ago," I licked my lips. "When I started working at the clinic."

"Working?" Daddy blinked at me. "At the clinic?"

He'd known I was working. He'd even been proud of me for that, but now I told him everything.

"Come on back this way, Lisa," David jerked his head slightly and opened a door, standing aside for me. I smiled at him as I slipped past and into a rather short hallway with three doors. "There, on the left. That's my office."

I opened it and he followed me inside. It was small too, like the foyer where I'd met him, and had little more than a desk and a chair and a stool. There were some diplomas on the wall, a couple personal photographs of David with his parents, it looked like. Some posters, charts really, but I didn't understand the illustrations and the words all had far too many syllables for my taste. I glanced around and David didn't bother closing the door, he just gestured at the chair.

"Have a seat and we'll start with the paperwork." He made a wry face and I giggled nervously. I sat as he knelt beside me, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a folder. "Here you go, Lisa, and here's a pen and..." he patted his pockets for a second, " ... and I'll be right back, okay?"

I nodded and started looking through the papers. There were a lot of them, and a lot of questions too, starting with my name. I wrote slowly, being rather careful since it really was my first ever job application. It all seemed incredibly serious to me at the time and I wanted to make sure I did it right. Also, I didn't want to look like an idiot, you know? I wanted to impress the man more than anything else.

"Here we go..." David had returned, rolling a plastic cart that seemed barely small enough for the room. He sat on the stool and took the papers from me. "Let's see. Okay, you're Lisa Oquias, sixteen years old, address yadayadaya..." He read through all my background, which I'd left mostly blank, since I'd never had a job before and I was only in high school.

"Okay, let's skip through this ... and this ... and this isn't important..." he sighed, flipping through papers, " ... Okay, medical history." He took his pen back and smiled at me. "Have you ever been hospitalized? Had an operation? Had the Measles? Chicken Pox?..." There were a lot of those questions and sometimes I just had to say I didn't know, but that didn't seem to bother him.

"Do you want to keep going?" Dave looked at me and I shrugged, like why wouldn't I? But we'd been in that little office for a half hour at least. "Are you a virgin?"

I looked at him sharply and I think my face turned more than a little red, but he just kept smiling. "Yes," I finally nodded, hoping the truth would impress him more than some lie about being the experienced woman I wasn't.

"Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Do you masturbate? Have you performed or received oral sex? Have you ever tried anal sex, Lisa? Have you ever used a sexual device or toy, like a vibrator for instance?" ... etc etc and by the end of it I was rather flushed and breathless.

I'd never dreamt of doing half the things he'd asked me about. BDSM? Bestiality? Rape fantasy? Group sex? Please! I was a sixteen year old catholic schoolgirl. I'd had exactly one boyfriend in my whole life. We'd made out twice and he'd felt my boobs up once during a movie, through my sweater and bra, I mean, and that was it!

"I'm sorry I had to ask you all that." David seemed a bit flushed as well and he didn't really try to look into my eyes, not that I'd have let him. He knew more about me than God! "But the job requires a certain..." he shrugged, looking for the right word, " ... innocence."

"Innocence?" I laughed then and I became aware that I'd gotten just a little upset actually. "It sounds like you're looking for a ... a ... prostitute or something!" Part of me, maybe even most of me, wanted to run away and hide. The only reason I didn't was that I felt so totally embarrassed that any action seemed somehow worse than merely sitting there, if that makes any sense.

"No, no ... That's exactly what I'm not looking for," David assured me. "I'm so sorry, Lisa. Seriously. Those were terrible things to ask, but you're perfect, believe me."

He reached out and patted my hand and I felt my heart jump a little. If I'd truly been offended, or even embarrassed, I forgot about it completely. He was touching me! And I just stared at his hand on top of mine.

"Really?" I bit my lower lip gently and looked into David's hazel eyes. He seemed so honest and sensitive and sincere. I knew he wasn't lying and he'd plainly been almost as uncomfortable as I'd been.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Now, um ... we need to get a little blood, okay?"

That wasn't so bad and neither was giving him a urine sample, although it seemed a little embarrassing. I had spent a long time in his little bathroom and that just made it worse when I came out, but David didn't seem to mind. He took the plastic cup from my hand and put it on his cart along with the tubes of my blood and looked at his watch.

"Do you, uh ... I mean, are you hungry? Do you need to get home?"

"Yeah, not really, um..." I giggled and shook my head as if to clear it. We were standing close together in that little hallway and now that the clinical stuff was done, it felt suddenly, delightfully awkward.

"I mean, if you want we can go someplace. There's a pizza place around the corner, it's pretty good."

Twenty minutes later we were sitting in a little booth, waiting for our pizza, and it was nice.

"I'm 26 years old," David said, answering my questions now. "I got my degree in biochemistry and did some research time with the University hospital, you know," he shrugged and I didn't know, but I played along. "Until I got my doctorate and then I opened up my own place. Spent some of my inheritance on it," he smiled apologetically, like he felt embarrassed about having money he hadn't earned and he didn't say a whole lot about it.

"So, do you have a lot of patients?" I wondered, trying to sound more grown up than I actually was, but my questions seemed very ordinary and boring.

"A few." Dave sipped his coke. "Like Trixie, but really, I just want to do research."

"Oh," I nodded like that made sense. "So, um, Trixie ... Who's she? You asked me if I was there for her or something."

Dave laughed and rolled his eyes. "I used to have an assistant, a girl named Mindy, but she left the other day. Ran off to get married to a circus clown," he paused, "or maybe he was a mime. I forget, it's not important..." I was giggling and he was smiling, " ... Anyway, Trixie is one of her patients and I keep wondering when the owner will show up. It's been a week now."

"The owner?" I asked, feeling confused suddenly.

"Yeah, Trixie is a collie. A beautiful dog, just gorgeous. We spayed her, just a quick operation. Very easy, although I don't think I'd have done it to the poor girl."

"Oh!" I blinked and sat up as understanding dawned on me. "You're a veterinarian?"

David grinned at me and shook his head. "Only part time. I'm a real doctor, a human doctor," he laughed. "Mindy was a vet, a good one too. She taught me a lot." He looked a little bit wistful and I felt a pinch of jealousy. "Anyway, at first I thought you'd come for Trixie, I honestly didn't think I'd ever find someone like you for the project, Lisa."

"Project?" I leaned forward a little more. That was the first time I'd heard him use that word. But right then our pizza came and David didn't answer me and I didn't ask him again.

"Are you sure you can get home okay?" David asked. I was waiting for the bus and it was only a little after seven anyway.