Out of Reach

This is a story of a teenage romance which blossoms into something beyond beautiful. It has twists and turns, where a young couple fall in and out of love with each other and other people. How do their lives pan out in the end though?


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17. Scan

 

“Come on Megs! We’re going to be late! You know what she’s like!” I yell from the car. Megan is now 16 weeks pregnant. She has a bump, and people at school have realised she’s pregnant since we started back last week. Today is Monday the 13th of September, and we have had to ask for the morning off school so we can go to see our midwife, Georgina.     

   Rylie is doing well! He is getting big now, and he is nearly two months old. He still does pretty much the same as before, but now he takes Karen’s breast milk without fuss, and Karen and Jack barely ever argue. In fact, they’re incredibly loved up.    

   The house is lovely to live in at the minute. Megan and I are falling more in love with each other every day and are still discovering new things about each other all the time. She is beautiful and blooming. I love her to bits. John and Honey are very healthy and well, the business is booming and Steve is slowly crawling back into our family. He has even been on a few dates since living on his own!     

   School is hard work, and there have been many comments on mine and Megan’s situation, mainly nasty ones, but the teachers are all very supportive and I’m in sixth form now so any free periods I have I am planning Megan’s birthday party and looking online for cheap baby things and cheap houses. Yes, houses! Alicia is of course as green as ever. In fact, I’ve noticed a lot of girls giving Megan the cold shoulder and she told me it’s probably because they think I’m hot or something. I’ve told her she’s being silly of course. The lads have been giving me grief too. Sometimes when I walk into class I’m met by a bunch of my mates singing that classic wedding tune that’s in all the weddings on cheesy films.     

   I have also been thinking a lot about marriage, but I know Megan isn’t ready and doesn’t want to at this age.    

   Some of the comments I have received have been about how I’m too young to commit and no relationships last at my age. Or things like, no matter what I do, she’ll grow up and see what a mistake I was. Nowadays, it’s hard not to believe that. I can’t bring myself to tell her how I feel either. It’ll only be so long before slip ups stop making us and instead break us.    

   I have confided in Jack about all my worries and fears and have found that we are growing quite close. He’s really cool to hang around with and he understands how I feel, despite being older than me, we are sort of in the same position. I have spoken to him about proposing to Megan and all about coping with a baby. We’ve discussed baby names and how long we think it’ll be before we have other children. He’s told me lots of private things and he’s helping me with Megan’s birthday party arrangements. It’s nice having a friend around the place. When Megan isn’t there I sometimes feel like an elephant in the corner.     

   I work with him too to earn some money. It’s good, I like having the independence of it all, and I feel so old. After getting back in touch with my parents, they said it was bad that I was acting so old for my age, and that I was missing out most of the good parts in life and skipping right to the day in day out grovel. Of course, I didn’t listen and yelled at them, saying they didn’t understand me.    So, my parents and I aren’t friends yet, but I’m sure we’ll get there. Once they see how beautiful our baby is they’ll realise how stupid they’ve been, and how much they missed out on during Megan’s pregnancy when they could’ve been there for us.     

   They’re still saying that I’ll end up breaking Megan’s fragile heart once we realise our mistake. I know that will never come true, because as much as I suppose I would want to deny it to my mates, I love her. And it’s not because I’m embarrassed of her, or that I think they’ll make fun, we just don’t talk about that sort of thing and I’m not sure we ever will. Well, I suppose I’d confide in Adam and Josh, we’re close, but any of our other mates would just feel weird.     

   “I’m coming, I’m coming! Pipe down.” She yells back as she’s running out of the door, coat flapping.    

   “Hey, who’re you telling to pipe down?” I say, beaming at her as she walks over to the car.       

   “Naughty daddy.” She tuts as she rubs her stomach.    

   We climb into the car and off we go, ready to find more about our little one, the future.     

   As we pull into the car park, Megan grabs my hand.     

   “I’ve got butterflies.”She says, looking at me nervously. She licks her lips, which gives me the temptation to kiss her, but I resist. We need to hurry.    

   “Come on.” I squeeze her hand and we get out of the car, making our way inside the hospital. We great our midwife and Megan lays on a bed covered in a white sheet, ready for Georgina to begin.        

   

I walk away with my head held high and my arms spread wide like I’m on a tightrope. The smell in the air makes me want to be sick, and I feel bloated. The ground beneath me is harsh and filthy, making me feel impure. My heart is cold and almost standing still, and the white light shining through my eyelids is damaging.  

 

   “So now I’m just doing palpation, which is basically just checking where the baby is and how big it is.” Georgina states, moving her hands over Megan’s bump, and pressing in different places. “Yes, it’s a lovely size, not to small.” She smiles, “It’s head at the minute is just... here.” She takes Megan’s hand and moves it over the baby’s head. Megan gasps, and then Georgina shows me. It feels amazing, and I find myself gasping also.     

   “I’m going to do an ultrasound scan now.” Georgina gets out a tube of gel and before squeezing out the substance onto Megan’s stomach, she says, “Now this will be cold.” Then there’s a moving image of a small and squashed version of a baby on Georgina’s computer screen. My heart skips a beat as I watch Megan’s face light up in delight.     

   “I can tell you what the sex is now, but I will only be 75% certain that it will be what I tell you.” Georgina smiles excitedly at us.    I look at Megan, who looks at me.    

   “Well do you know? I mean, do you think you know what sex it is?” I ask.    

   “Yes, I do know.” She smiles, glancing at the screen, and then back at us.     

   “Do we want to know?” I ask Megan.    

   “I don’t know.” She smiles nervously.     

   “We’ll be able to pick out colours.” I prompt.    

   “Well do you want to know?”    

   “I want whatever you want.” I say. The midwife smiles at us reassuringly.    

   “It depends if you want it to be a surprise or not at birth.” Georgina says. Megan and I look at each other again. “I could always tell you in two weeks when you come for your next check up, I’ll know the sex 95% certain by then.”     

   “I don’t want to know.” Megan says.    

   “Okay, that’s fine.” Georgina smiles.  

   

We walk towards the house hand in hand. We’re greeted warmly as per-usual. Karen hugs us.     

   “Have you found out the sex?” She asks.    

   “I didn’t want to; I want it to be a surprise.” Megan informs her.    

   “Aww, I wanted it to be a surprise too but I just couldn’t wait.” She giggles. Her and Megan go off laughing together, whilst I join the conversation taking place in the living room.    

   As I walk through the door, I see my mum and dad are sat on the sofa conversing with Steve, John and Honey. Uh-oh.     “Ahh, Dylan. How did you get on?” Honey welcomes me.    I can’t answer.    

   “What’re you doing here?” I address my parents. My mother stands up and tries to talk, but my father’s voice overpowers hers.     

   “We want to make peace with you.” He says.    

   “So you accept you’re wrong?” I ask, feeling incredibly annoyed.     

   “Dylan love, maybe it’s best if you leave us to talk for a short while.” Honey tries to usher me out of the room.     

   “No, I want to resolve this with you.”    

   “Come on Dylan, let us just talk this out.” John starts up.    

   “You know I respect and admire you John, but I can’t do that.”     

   “I’m afraid you’ll have to.” And now Steve gets involved. I walk out, angry, annoyed, and stressed out. I walk into the kitchen and run a hand through my hair. Karen, Jack and Megan are cosied round the kitchen table gossiping. They stop when they see me.    

   “What’s up Dyl?” Karen asks.    

   “Did you know my parents were here?”I ask the staring faces.    

   “Well yes-“Steve begins.    

   “And Megan, did you know that your dad’s in there?” I ask her.    

   “He is?”    

   “Yeah.” I say as she rushes past me. I hear her excitement from the other room.     

   I make my way upstairs and into our bedroom. Today has been full of different events that I’m not sure I’ll want to have to recall again. I slouch onto the bed and turn to look at the clock perching on the bedside table. It reads 17:57. My heart drops, wanting the day to finish right here, right now.       

   “Dylan? Dyl?” The sound of Megan’s voice wakes me up from a sleep I was happy to fall into.     

   “What?” My voice is groggy.    

   “Your parents have gone.” She says.    

   “Good. What time is it?” I sit up slowly and look at the clock.    

   “Half past eight. You missed dinner.”    

   “Why didn’t you wake me?” I ask, upset that I didn’t cross her mind.    

   “I thought you could do with a good sleep.”    

   I grunt at her.    

   “I can heat some leftovers and bring it upstairs if you want?” She asks, pushing my hair out of my eyes. I must get it cut.    

   “No, it’s fine thank you. I’m not hungry.”    

   “Are you sure?”    

   “Yes thanks. I’m fine.”    

   “Okay. Well they’ve put a film on downstairs, do you wanna” come watch it?”     

   “No, I think I’ll just slob up here for a while.”    

   “I don’t want to leave you on your own.” She says, putting her head on my chest and lying against my cold body.    

   “Then don’t.” I wrap my arms round her and she moves so that she’s sat in between my legs. I rest my hands on her bump and we lay there until John comes up to check on us two hours later. He pops his head around the door and smiles at us, but doesn’t say anything. For a second I wonder why, but as I look down, I see that Megan’s asleep and know that John didn’t want to wake her – she can be a light sleeper at the best of times. I close my eyes and hope to go to the same place as her.  

   I open my eyes to a dark room, our room. I check the clock. It’s only half past three in the morning. Megan isn’t lying on me where she was when we fell asleep; in fact, she isn’t even in the room. I stand up, but then pause, I go dizzy. As soon as the room stops spinning I look out the bedroom door and crane my neck round to glance over the corridor. The bathroom lights on, so I figure Megan’s in there. The door is open a fraction of a few centimetres. I push it gently with my hand and see if I get a reaction. All I hear is silence so I walk in and Megan is sat on the toilet with the lid down, her hair tied in a pony tail and her face damp.    

   “What’re you doing?” I ask. I realise I’ve got a sore throat that shortens my words.    

   “I had a bad dream.”She whispers.    

   “Come back to bed.”    We walk into the bedroom, and climb into bed, wrapping the chilling duvet round us. I put my arm round her shoulders.    

   “Tell me all about it.” I say.    

   “You didn’t love me. I was a single parent. We had a baby girl, she must’ve been about 5, and I looked as if I was in my early twenties. You didn’t love me Dyl. I was picking her up from school, and lots of parents gave me disapproving looks. They were all in their late twenties or early thirties, and I felt so dirty and impure. I felt like a kid myself. I was living in a flat, just me and my daughter, and I was trying to ring you but you weren’t answering your home phone or your mobile phone. Then I looked out the window out onto a dirty street and saw you walking hand in hand with a pretty girl, free without any extra baggage. I tried to shout down to you, but you wouldn’t hear me, you ignored me. Then she started crying, and she didn’t even have a name. I walked into a tiny box room with wallpaper hanging from the walls, and broken floor boards to walk on. My daughter was lying on a nappy changing mat with an old curtain wrapped round her shoulders, crying her heart out. I began to cry to, and that’s when I woke up. I found I was really crying.”    I rock her as she sobs to me.    

   “Shush shush shush. Now now, don’t worry. It was just a bad dream. It was just a horrible dream. Shush shush shush, there there.”    

   “Dylan. I don’t want it to come true.” She cried, “It can’t. I’m too young Dylan.” She was in hysterics, blubbering and howling.    

   “I’ll always love you Megan, always. No matter what, you’ll always mean the most to me, out of everybody in the whole world.”    

   “You can’t guarantee that Dylan. You don’t know that for certain. I’ll be boring, forever looking after our child, and you’ll meet a girl so free you’ll be blown away.”    

   “Megan, listen to me.” I hold her face in my hands, “I promise I will never leave you. I will walk through every obstacle with you, forever. Whatever mountain there is to climb, I’ll be holding your hand and helping you on your way.”     She cries and cries and cries. I rock her the whole time.     

   “I’m too young.” She sobs. I decide not to try and say anything that may or may not help, and instead just let her get it all out and hold her until she feels better.    

   “I’ve thrown everything away. My life’s over.” More crying. “Why did it have to be me?” I feel bad. It’s my fault this has been thrust upon her. An hour later, and she’s still crying, telling me she wishes she could go back in time. I’m not hurt because I understand, and I’m glad that she can open up to me like this, but I’m devastated that she’s so upset, because this thing that she’s feeling is the last thing I’ve ever wanted her to feel.    

   Maybe she’s right though. Maybe we have thrown everything away. Maybe this is a big mistake and we should think about adoption. If I mention this to Megan, she might feel better. Or she’ll hate me. I don’t think it’s worth it. It will just cause more grief where it isn’t needed.    

   I look down and see that my white shirt I bought just a few days ago is sodden with Megan’s tears. I stroke her head, and move her hair from her eyes. She sits up and looks at me, and then she too notices my shirt.     

   “I’m sorry,” She sobs a little harder. I take her hand in mine and she stops crying.     

   “What’re we going to do Dyl?” She asks, throwing her hands down and separating mine from hers at the same time.    

   “Nothing. We’ll get through it together, and in 7 months, we’ll be remembering this conversation and we’ll cry all over again. But they’ll be happy tears, not sad ones. We’ll be so thankful that we made it, and that we stuck together like glue. I promise you.”    

   “Why are you so perfect?” She asks, smiling and wiping her face with the sleeve of her pyjama top.    

   “Because I have to keep up with you.” I say. Then, she kisses me, soft at first, and then firmer. She slowly unbuttons my shirt with her nimble fingers, and I know where this is going.  

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