Kay would have been embarrassed if she weren’t alone. She looked terrible, her thin hair stringy and tied back in messy braids. Her face was splotchy, her eyes bleary. What she wanted most was to crawl back in bed, but she knew that that was out of the question. She yawned and wrapped her arms around her own thin shoulders. The room was too cold, even though the heater was on and she was wearing her favorite baggy sweatshirt. She knew she should eat something, but she wasn’t hungry. Instead, she sat on the little creaky stool that was pulled up to her kitchen counter and picked at the yellowing tile before pushing the button for her messages.

The machine, too old to still be in use, beeped and whirred, sounding as if it were struggling before the little voice sounded. “Message One. Wednesday, 2:54 P.M.” Though it was old, the machine kept time extremely well.

“Kay, Darling.” With a resigned shudder, Kay recognized her mother’s voice. She massaged her temples, then continued listening. “Kay, I’ve got Simon here, I’m going to take him to the park – we’re going to the park to feed the you-know-whats.” Here, Kay heard a childlike scream of pleasure in the background, followed by the sound of an eager young voice singing “Duckies, duckies, duckies.” She smiled faintly. “Yes. Well, as you can tell Simon’s eager to go and we’re just rushing out the door, but if you could give me a call back, we shouldn’t be gone long, I’m going to bring some soup by later, and, dear? Please try to remember that I’m leaving on Friday to fly to Memphis to visit Aunt Harriet, so I’ll need you to come get Simon before then. Well, we must go, love you, good bye.”

Brushing a strand of hair back from her face, Kay waited for the other messages to play. The machine beeped. “Wednesday, 6:21 P.M.”

“Kay, honey, it’s Mom again.” Kay squeezed her eyes shut, as if this would make her mother’s voice disappear. “I’m sorry I didn’t get around to bringing the soup by. Simon was just so wound up after the park that I decided to take him to the zoo. He had a fabulous time, and he finally calmed down. I’m putting him to bed soon – right now he’s upstairs building with his blocks. I was just calling to check in on you, and to remind you once again that I’m leaving on Friday, and I certainly can’t take Simon with me. If you’re still feeling poorly, perhaps you might talk to Nate…I don’t know what kind of terms you’re on at the moment, but it’s just a suggestion. Oh! Sorry dear, Simon’s crying. I’m going to go put him to bed, I’ll try and call you again if I can.”

Her heart ached. It ached for Simon and it ached for Nate. The ache added to the throbbing of her head, so she lay her head down on the counter, her cheek pressed up against the cool tiles. The machine beeped. “Thursday, 7:35 A.M.”

“Hey there…um…hi Kay. I…well, your mother called, and she mentioned that you might…uh…” Kay froze. The stuttering voice was none too familiar to her. Nate, her best friend for years, had been the first one she turned to for everything, save once. Once. Three, almost four years ago.

The day had had no right to be sunny. Sunny days were for happiness, good news. Not news like this. Kay ran her hand over the splintered bench, back and forth, feeling little chips of wood catching in her palm. Good. She deserved splinters, deserved it all. This was what happened. And yet, this wasn’t supposed to happen. She was only seventeen, it had only been once. Things like this didn’t happen to Kay, Kay wasn’t the kind of girl…but now she was.

Across the too green lawn, Kay saw Nate standing. She almost got up. Almost ran to tell him, to collapse into his arms and cry wet tears into his shoulder, like she had so many times before – she wanted him to wrap his arms around her, hold her until she was ready to talk, and then listen. That was what she wanted. But she almost got up – not quite. She didn’t know how she would tell him. How do you say something like that to your best friend? She knew he wouldn’t turn her away, but still, inside of herself, she was scared. So she didn’t. She stayed on the bench.

Later, when she saw him and he threw an arm over her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, when he asked her if she was enjoying the weather, if she wanted to go to a movie with him, she bit her lip and made excuses. She couldn’t look into his face, his eyes – such a cloudy brown color – were so wide and innocent, so happy and caring.

But they didn’t stay that way – later, when her belly began to swell, when her mouth was forever turned down at the edges and tears eternally waited, ready to spring up at any moment, when Nate saw, she couldn’t bear it. His eyes were confused, then hurt. He stopped asking if she was enjoying the weather, stopped asking if she wanted to go to a movie. She didn’t have to bite her lip anymore. She ran out of excuses, but it didn’t matter, because she didn’t need them anymore.

Still, she spent her time on that splintered bench, thinking of how she had almost gotten up, almost told him. If only she had, she wouldn’t sit alone, and later, lay in her hospital bed with no visitors, no cards, no flowers, no congratulations, only her mother’s tight lipped, fake smile, the nurse’s, “It’s a boy!” She wouldn’t have had, to wonder if she were strong enough. Nate would have held her hand as she sat there and reassured her that she was strong enough, and he would be there for when she wasn’t.

After that, she left school, and she didn’t see him, confused, betrayed or otherwise. She just had Simon, and her little apartment, the mess, the squalor. She had the life she deserved, the life she condemned herself to when she stayed there on that splintered bench.