bear—has me blushing?
I shake my head. I need to snap out of it.
Me: So … you know how I don’t know what I’m going to do next year?
Michael: Are you going to be an actor, Miss Number One?
I pause. Honestly, I hate the idea. Drama sounds so intense, too much pressure on your career to get the part, to make it big. If only I could practice drama and acting every day, without actually having to go through the rehearsals stage …
Stacey: I think it’s too much pressure.
Michael: What about teaching it?
The message comes through so quick that my shoulders jerk in surprise. He had an answer already?
He’s thought about me. About my future.
I blink. Teaching is something I’ve honestly never thought of before. I try the word on for size in my brain. Teaching . I could do that. I mean, I’d have to do a bridging course, and study like a mo-fo to get the grades, but I could. I could so totally do that.
All of a sudden, my line of questioning changes.
Me: I actually like that idea. A lot.
Michael: Great! Whatcha gonna do next year problem = solved.
Me: Yeah, well I’ll have to do a bridging course, and apply for a midyear intake. If I even get in.
Suddenly, I’m filled with excitement for this idea. I’d love to teach drama, even if it only seems like a pipe dream at this point.
A pipe dream I may never achieve, thanks to …
Me: Anyway … so, there’s a puppy. And it doesn’t have anyone else to care for it, and while I can choose if I look after it or not, I know taking care of this thing will really impact my career and studies.
But I probably wont get in to a course anyway …
And it would be kinda nice to have something that depended on me, that I could look after … you know? So I should probably choose the puppy, right?
I hold my breath, count to twenty, and when Michael hasn’t replied I throw the phone down on the bed. I can’t believe I’m asking him this, but it’s the closest I can come without—well, without seeing the sad look in his eyes I know would be there if he found out.
Michael: What, is it at a shelter or something?
I groan, and thump my head against the pillow.
Me: Yep. But I’m the only one who can take it.
I pause for a moment.
Me: Or they’ll kill it.
As soon as I type the words, a wave of guilt floods over me. Now I have to add hypothetical puppy murderer to my list of sins.
How will killing a baby feel?
Michael: I think you could do uni and a puppy. I really don’t think you need to choose.
I press my lips together and turn away from the phone. So maybe my hypothetical situation wasn’t so great after all. If I want to talk to someone about this, I’ll really have to talk to someone about this. Baby and all.
I roll over onto my side, my stomach still feeling like jelly is rolling around in it.
Michael: I guess what you need to ask yourself is, how much do you love this puppy? And what can it give you?
Can you live with yourself if it dies and you know you could have saved it?
His words sink in, and I don’t. I don’t know if I can live with that. Not when there are people I know and love who have had to try for a baby and who had difficulty conceiving, like my brother and his wife. Not when I’ve always tried so hard to look after other living creatures, and sought out the grown-up lifestyle so vividly. Not when it would mean I’d be a murderer, someone who killed this small person inside of me.
I reread Michael’s text, my eyes focusing on the second last line, this time.
Not when it could give me love. It could depend on me.
God, sometimes I just want someone to depend on me. Someone to know that I love them and for that to be enough.
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling, my phone on the pillow beside me. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this, but I can’t burden Kate, and the idea of talking to my family …
I could
I shake my head. I need to snap out of it.
Me: So … you know how I don’t know what I’m going to do next year?
Michael: Are you going to be an actor, Miss Number One?
I pause. Honestly, I hate the idea. Drama sounds so intense, too much pressure on your career to get the part, to make it big. If only I could practice drama and acting every day, without actually having to go through the rehearsals stage …
Stacey: I think it’s too much pressure.
Michael: What about teaching it?
The message comes through so quick that my shoulders jerk in surprise. He had an answer already?
He’s thought about me. About my future.
I blink. Teaching is something I’ve honestly never thought of before. I try the word on for size in my brain. Teaching . I could do that. I mean, I’d have to do a bridging course, and study like a mo-fo to get the grades, but I could. I could so totally do that.
All of a sudden, my line of questioning changes.
Me: I actually like that idea. A lot.
Michael: Great! Whatcha gonna do next year problem = solved.
Me: Yeah, well I’ll have to do a bridging course, and apply for a midyear intake. If I even get in.
Suddenly, I’m filled with excitement for this idea. I’d love to teach drama, even if it only seems like a pipe dream at this point.
A pipe dream I may never achieve, thanks to …
Me: Anyway … so, there’s a puppy. And it doesn’t have anyone else to care for it, and while I can choose if I look after it or not, I know taking care of this thing will really impact my career and studies.
But I probably wont get in to a course anyway …
And it would be kinda nice to have something that depended on me, that I could look after … you know? So I should probably choose the puppy, right?
I hold my breath, count to twenty, and when Michael hasn’t replied I throw the phone down on the bed. I can’t believe I’m asking him this, but it’s the closest I can come without—well, without seeing the sad look in his eyes I know would be there if he found out.
Michael: What, is it at a shelter or something?
I groan, and thump my head against the pillow.
Me: Yep. But I’m the only one who can take it.
I pause for a moment.
Me: Or they’ll kill it.
As soon as I type the words, a wave of guilt floods over me. Now I have to add hypothetical puppy murderer to my list of sins.
How will killing a baby feel?
Michael: I think you could do uni and a puppy. I really don’t think you need to choose.
I press my lips together and turn away from the phone. So maybe my hypothetical situation wasn’t so great after all. If I want to talk to someone about this, I’ll really have to talk to someone about this. Baby and all.
I roll over onto my side, my stomach still feeling like jelly is rolling around in it.
Michael: I guess what you need to ask yourself is, how much do you love this puppy? And what can it give you?
Can you live with yourself if it dies and you know you could have saved it?
His words sink in, and I don’t. I don’t know if I can live with that. Not when there are people I know and love who have had to try for a baby and who had difficulty conceiving, like my brother and his wife. Not when I’ve always tried so hard to look after other living creatures, and sought out the grown-up lifestyle so vividly. Not when it would mean I’d be a murderer, someone who killed this small person inside of me.
I reread Michael’s text, my eyes focusing on the second last line, this time.
Not when it could give me love. It could depend on me.
God, sometimes I just want someone to depend on me. Someone to know that I love them and for that to be enough.
I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling, my phone on the pillow beside me. I wish there was someone I could talk to about this, but I can’t burden Kate, and the idea of talking to my family …
I could
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