Judy decides that she’s going to listen to the entire stack of records, not all at once, but in a week’s time. They make her feel like she used to on a beach, and then child inside of her kicks so hard it might come through and she winces. Michele shouts, “This is the dumbest song I’ve ever heard!”

Judy stares coldly at Michele with one of her hands resting to the side of the spinning record. It goes on: “Something inside is telling me that I’ve got your secret /Are you still listening?/ Fear is the lock and laughter the key to your heart and I love you/ I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are/ And you make it hard, and you make it hard, and you make it hard, and you make it hard…”

Michele lunges for the player but Judy pulls it away just before she can grab it. The needle slides across and off of the record. It’s like somebody’s guts getting cut open. They each look at the thread-wide mark left, and Michele says, but more softly, “I don’t want to listen to that crap if there’s not gonna be some kind of real ending, like somebody getting something or getting a beatdown. You know?”

Judy responds, “You know Michele, we’re fat. All that tough shit doesn’t matter anymore.”

Judy shoves the player at the wall and crawls to the edge of the bed. She slowly lifts herself up. Once standing, she leans back and shoves her fist into the small of her back for relief. Michele says, “You’re not really gonna play that at your Dad’s funeral, are you? He’s a loser, Judy. You better just forget about him. You know, not all boys hate pregnant women. I read that somewhere. Turns some on. A lot.”

Judy feels herself moving toward Michele but she isn’t. She grabs a pillow and throws it, then immediately closes her eyes. When she opens them Michele is holding the pillow over her head, ready to throw it back at her. Judy imagines she hit her but she can’t be sure. Michele says, “Look, I know you’re smarter than me, and you’re not really stupid at all, but sometimes you’re just so depressing. Who says we can’t have some fun, do most of the stuff we used to do?”

Judy thinks of him as she stares down at Michele on the floor. When she told him, his face didn’t crack. They were outside the deli at the corner of her block and it was sweltering. She noticed his acne had gotten worse. He shook his head just after she spoke the word ‘pregnant’, and steel flashed in his eyes. It was the most scared she’s ever been. He turned and walked away as if she were contagious, and all Judy thought was how unfeeling the two times they’d done it were, once in a chair tucked into the inlet just before his backdoor, and once in the laundry room in her apartment building. He’d maneuvered himself inside of her, and although the time on the chair was her second time, she considered this her first because she wanted to be so close to him. All that let up to it was tender. They didn’t kiss, but pressed their cheeks hard and then harder as it progressed until he stopped and got off of her. He held her hand both times and said thank you.

Judy looks at Michele and says, “You know, we’re not women, we’re girls.”

Michele leans back a bit, bracing herself with her arms, and says, “Suit yourself. But you know, we’re going to be mothers. That gives us some power. I know that I fucked up, but what’s the problem with pretending a little, you know? Who gives a fuck? I say fuck it, and you know, Judy, if I thought too much about it, I’d probably jump out some window, but instead I’m right. I know I’m right.”

Judy turns away, slides her body close to the bed that she again uses for help. She remembers what Michele said about her baby’s father who she used to have many evil nicknames for until they dissipated. She eventually used his real name, but infrequently and still with pain evident when she said it. They were in love for a few weeks and it was beautiful. They could have devoured each other. Michele didn’t regret those two weeks, said they helped her discover what matters in life, knowing that intensity. She used to reiterate the fact that they weren’t the first girls to get knocked up and they wouldn’t be the last. When the feeling dried up and he was using his force on someone else, someone older even, a girl he played basketball with, she told him and his friends and this girl in the middle of the court on a Friday night, and he didn’t hesitate when he said that he’d do what he could for her. But Michele, quick as anything, shot back with a, “Forget it. Go fuck yourself.”

Once on her feet, Judy goes to the window and looks outside to where she sees the Catholic boys in the distance, just down the block. She puts her nose on the glass and enjoys the burn, thinking of what the world is going to look like once the baby’s not inside of her. It is winter and her neighborhood with the row homes and the few and skeletal trees and all of the concrete make it look like something world-changing. She turns away and looks at Michele who unusually hasn’t moved. Her gaze is trained in front of her, her eyes tombs again, but this time more penetrating. Judy, knowing that there may be only one remedy and because Judy never had a friend who swooped in and took care of her, even if in terrible ways sometimes, asks her, “You want to go out?”

Once out on the street, it is cold, but the two move down the block quickly heading right for the group of boys, most in uniform sweaters, breathing clouds as they hunch on a stoop. Michele looks straight ahead and is unusually quiet, walks quicker and pretends they aren’t there, while Judy slows down and looks over at them, at one boy in particular who meets her gaze. His hair is in his eyes and his skin is slightly pocked. His lips, even from a distance, have purple in them. Judy smiles at him although she does not know why but it doesn’t make her feel bad. This exchange makes the other boys chuckle and mumble things amongst themselves, but the boy Judy smiled at shivers and keeps her in sight. Judy thinks of the rest of his life and hopes that he will be able to return a girl’s smile with one of his own someday. When she looks away, a wave of nausea comes and she sees color until she is able to blink it off and steady herself. She realizes that Michele is further along.

She hurries to catch up, holding the bottom of her belly. When she’s beside her again, Michele doesn’t look at her but keeps moving. Their cheeks redden and the wind assaults as they walk right into it. Judy avoids asking Michele what’s wrong with her and instead says, “I don’t think that I’ll ever be Catholic, although I guess I am, but I didn’t choose to be baptized. I think about other religions. Some don’t seem so bad.”

Michele responds, “What made you think of that? Religion’s for assholes. You should know that, Judy. It’s just an excuse to take your money and make you feel guilty for shit.”