We judge her. Look at her with eyes of scorn. She holds her head up high, ignores our whispers. I laugh and make mean comments about her with my friends. And when I get home, I sit and cry. I should have been as strong as she. I should have had confidence. I hold my belly, lay on the floor, let the tears flow.
I could never have been that strong. I was only eighteen. I had just started university. My parents would have been deeply ashamed, but I guess not as much as I was ashamed of myself. Her name is Christine, and the truth is, I envy her.I joke with my friends and agree that she is stupid, she has no life. I mean, which sane person keeps a pregnancy in university? Does she not think of the consequences? Which guys will be attracted to you after knowing you’re a young mom? Are you strong enough to live a friendless life? Coz the truth is, no one will hang out with you after. We have parties to go to, boys to screw with and weed to smoke.
Did no one ever tell her about abortions? My friends start a nasty rumour about her, and I laugh about it. She was a whore. How else could she get pregnant? Did she even know who her baby’s father is? Again I go home and I wonder, could that have been me? Behind closed doors I salute her. I respect her. I wish I could be her. My baby would be two years and three days now. And she would have been beautiful. In my heart I know it was a girl. I would have named her Michelle.
I could have been strong. I could have been more mature. I shouldn’t have been worrying about friends, and parties and boys. He had said he wasn’t ready to be a father. And that should have been fine, I could have managed to raise my child. How many single mothers are thriving out there? He wasn’t even affected. He didn’t even take me to get it done. I was alone. I am still alone.
This clique I hang with, would they still be my friends? I doubt. They would have been trash talking me as we do Christine. My world is a complete mess. I look at Christine and I applaud her. I could have been her. I would have found happiness in my little angel.
But it is too late now, and all I can do is secretly pray for Christine.