Anything but Normal - Melody Carlson [68]
“Dad!”
He didn’t even look at Sophie. “What I want to know, young man, is what do you have to say for yourself?” His voice was so loud that Sophie figured everyone in the building could hear him.
Dylan looked up, and Sophie was surprised to see that he didn’t look anything like he’d looked last summer. Today he seemed scared and pale and sort of wimpy. “I—I’m sorry.”
“That’s it?” Dad shook his fist at him. “‘I’m sorry’? You think that’s going to fix everything? You think that’s going to give my daughter her life back? How would you like to be in her shoes, young man? How would you like to walk around with all your friends staring at your big fat pregnant belly?”
“Bud.” Mom put her hand on his arm. Not that he was paying any attention. His eyes were still fixed on Dylan, his anger aimed like a shotgun at Dylan’s head. Sophie almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
“No, you don’t have to worry about that, now do you, boy? The guy gets off easy. Take what you want and then take off on your merry way. You have your fun and leave a big fat mess behind. And you expect the girl to clean up. Well, you may be a Christian, but my moral standard is a heck of a lot higher than yours!” Dad stood, his face red with rage. “Well,
I’ve had my say now. All I want is to get out of here.” He shoved the chair back so hard that it crashed into the wall. Then he turned and stomped out of the room.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” Mr. Morris said.
“No!” Mrs. Morris said. “He might kill you.”
Sophie’s mom actually laughed. “His bark is worse than his bite. Besides, if he was going to kill anyone, it would probably be your son.”
Now it was just Pastor Vincent, the moms, Dylan, and Sophie . . . and the room was silent.
“So, Dylan,” Pastor Vincent began, “do you have a response to that?”
Dylan looked down at the table.
“Dylan?” his mom persisted.
“I said I’m sorry. I really don’t see what more I can do.”
“I’ll tell you what you can do, son,” Sophie’s mom said in a firm tone. “You can look my daughter in the eye and say you’re sorry. And say it like you mean it, or don’t say it at all.”
Pastor Vincent nodded. “Good advice.”
Sophie watched as Dylan sat there staring at his hands on the table. Part of her wanted to run from the room. But another part of her, a stronger part, just sat there staring at him. Finally he looked up. “I’m sorry, Sophie.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry too, Dylan.”
His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Like he was off the hook.
“I’m sorry I ever met you,” she continued. “I’m sorry I fell for your lies. I’m sorry I let you talk me into something that I really didn’t want to do. I’m sorry I believed you when you told me I wouldn’t get pregnant. I’m sorry I trusted you to have adequate birth control. Mostly I’m sorry that I broke a promise to God.” Mrs. Morris pointed a finger at Sophie. “You make it sound as if you bear no responsibility in all of this. As if Dylan raped you. As if you’re the helpless victim.”
“Dylan didn’t rape me,” Sophie told her. “But I did tell him to stop the first time. I told him no, but he didn’t listen.”
“And the second time?” Mrs. Morris’s eyes were like drills. Sophie sighed, then looked directly at Dylan. “By then I knew I had broken my vow to God. I felt terrible, guilty, disappointed, dirty . . . but then Dylan would come along. He would smile at me. He’d take me in his arms. He’d kiss me and tell me that everything was fine and that he loved me. I’d never felt like that before. And I believed him. I guess I rationalized that since I’d already blown it, since I’d broken my vow to God, I might as well accept Dylan’s love. Of course, I was wrong about that too. Dylan never loved me.”
Dylan pressed his lips together and looked down at his hands again.
“So what did you