Free What Kind of Love? by Sheila Cole Page A

baby, all at the same time! She thought I could do the same. Listening to her, I began to think, why not? If she did it, why can’t I? It made me feel that it might be possible. I can’t let getting pregnant stop me. I’d like to major in music the way she did. I’d have to work, but lots of kids work while they’re in college—Sandy does and so does Heather. And Peter and I could take turns watching the baby, like Mr. and Mrs. Rykoff did.

Friday, September 13
    Today we ignorant sinners in the school-age mothers’ program were treated to the good advice of the county mental health worker. Her name is Mrs. Rosenshine, but everyone calls her Mrs. Rise’n’shine because she’s one of those people who smile all the time and say things like “Now let’s talk about it.” She reminds me of my kindergarten teacher. Come to think of it, she had us all sit in a circle just like in kindergarten.
    â€œI was in the nursery before coming here, and I noticed that Tyler was starting to crawl,” she said.
    â€œYeh,” said Stacy, “he’s trying hard, but he keeps falling over.”
    â€œKeep your eyes on him—at this stage, they get into everything .”
    â€œYeh, he’s getting into stuff already,” Stacy admitted.
    â€œAnd how do you handle that?” Mrs. Rise’n’shine asked.
    â€œTake it away from him. Tell him no.”
    â€œSlap his hand if he don’t let go!” chanted Tiffany.
    This led into an utterly fascinating discussion about putting things away so the baby can’t reach them—a point that could be made in one sentence by most people, but not by Mrs. Rise’n’shine. She went on and on, during which time I wrote Peter’s name over and over with my left hand to see how it looked, Debbie Johnston got up and walked out of the room, and another girl didn’t even bother to whisper that she admired the outfit of the girl sitting next to her.
    How these discussions are supposed to teach us anything is beyond me.

Sunday, September 15
    I went to the movies in Newport Beach with Carrie, Dianne, Lily, and Arianna last night. Some guy was trying to hit on Dianne, and Lily was egging him on, even offering him popcorn. What a jerk! Everyone thought Lily was making an ass of herself.
    It wasn’t until I came home that I had a chance to think about how weird it was. I kept waiting all evening for someone to say something about Peter, but no one did. They didn’t even ask about him. They didn’t say anything about my not being in school, either. They were all s-o-o-o-o nice, s-o-o-o friendly and careful. It was like they were all pretending nothing’s changed.
    I wish they were right. But everything’s changed and I can’t ignore it. You won’t let me, will you? You in there with the elbows and knees.

Monday, September 16
    I got a long letter from Peter today. It was really bizarre. He wrote all about his school and his roommates and his classes. But he didn’t say anything about the baby or ask how we were doing. It was like with the girls Saturday night—as if I weren’t pregnant. He didn’t say anything about coming home at Christmas, either. What if he’s changed his mind about me and the baby? He’s been gone so long.
    What is the matter with me? He says he loves me. He wrote Peter Winder loves Valerie Larch—I love you—Be mine—Peter and Valerie all around the edges of the paper. He wrote that next to his bed he has a picture of me that he kisses every night. Does that sound like he doesn’t love me anymore? But, if he loves me, why didn’t he say anything about coming home or getting married or the baby? We have to start thinking about the future, to make plans.
    I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t want him to feel like I’m forcing him into anything, but I’ve got to know when he’s coming home and what