and didn’t look up again until he returned. “Congratulations,” I heard him say. “You’re pregnant.” I didn’t say anything. I looked away, and waited for the tears. “Remy, are you okay?” I nodded my head but didn’t look at him. I could feel his concern piercing through me. He sighed. “Now, I have to ask you, what are your plans?” Again, I didn’t say anything. “Remy,” he said, and in his pause I knew it was coming. “Are you going to keep it?” I didn’t answer for a long time, and he didn’t press me. Maybe it wasn’t a long time, but time moves slowly when you’re waiting. It was especially cold that night. I was walking home from a late-night basketball practice at the gym. The road was covered with snow and looked eerie, lit only with light from the street lamps. A red car passed me, going slow to compensate for road conditions. My car was in the shop getting snow tires installed. A half a block later, my breathing finally slowed to its normal pace and a black car passed. It was quiet, except for the hum on the highway four blocks over and the sound of an occasional car passing me. I could see only my breath and the circle of space lit by the streetlamp I was under. I heard another car approach, and it slowed down beside me. I tensed my body, preparing to run. “Hey,” the driver said. I turned. “Hey,” I replied. It was a kid from my speech class. I didn’t know him too well, only that his name was Luke, that he was in my year, and he rode motocross in the summer. “I’m on my way back from a study group. You want a ride somewhere?” I thought about my cold nose and the pain beginning to creep into my earlobes. “Um,” I said, and thought a second. “Sure.”
“All right, hop in.”
I was relieved that I didn’t have to walk the last mile to my house. “You’re in my speech class right?” I asked.
“I’m the Motocross Kid!”
“Yeah, I remember. Your speech was really good. It made me want to come watch sometime.”
Art and literary journal of University of Jamestown, Jamestown, N.D.