*****

There were times when it seemed Tea was stuck in her past. When those old skeletons that she had hidden in her closet, behind her dusty past, underneath grimy memories, rattled. It would start off with a barely shake, a faint knocking of the bones, she would turn the other ear. They would get a little bit louder, gaining her attention for just a moment, but she could mute them, long enough for her mind to drift off to something else. Finally, they would shake so loudly, it was unbearable, loud enough to where they could not and would not be ignored, not until she listened.

Roseanne. Pregnant. Alone. Misguided. Unguided. Unloved. Young Tea.

The Delgado household was very strict, from a woman's standpoint. The boys, they could do anything they wanted, and most of the time, they did. It was Tea who was held captives to her father's antiquated beliefs. It was she who could only do wrong, no matter how "right" she tried to be.

She figured out a system…a way to appear to be what every father wanted, while still being a woman. A woman needs to be loved, so she sought love, in the form of sex. Sixteen was the magic age, the age where she had to make her first decision as a woman.

His name was Michael, a boy from the top floor of her apartment building. Michael was universally loved and adored, and he chose her to "play" with. They could only play behind closed doors where nobody could see them. His choice. He would "play" with her for hours, and she would submit to him for hours. She had to make him happy so he would love her. He loved her so much; he left her with a little gift, his child.

Suddenly, he wanted nothing to do with his child or its mother. The child, he promised, he would never claim. What choice did she have? If Leon had somehow discovered her secret life, there would have been hell to pay. And pay she did, for everyday of her life.

She was exhausted from her day of extreme emotions. Todd probably wasn't the only one who suffered from some sort of mental problems in their marriage; she could swear that she a bi-polar disorder. Her emotions were too varied…one moment she was happy…not two seconds later she was depressed.

All the way home from the office, she thought about Roseanne and what she must be going through. Being alone, with no guidance…not that she would have accepted any…but at least she would have had some support. That was much more than Tea had when faced with the same decision.

Carlotta had a whole lot of nerve, passing judgment on anybody. She was always pushing her beliefs on other people whether they wanted to hear it or not. Where was she with all of her motherly advice when Tea was younger? All of a sudden, once she became an adult, she wanted to interject here, butt in there.

She just wanted to climb onto her feather mattress, pull the covers high over her head, and sleep her troubles away. Everyone's problems always feel squarely on her shoulders, whether she wanted to be involved or not. Where were the shoulders for her to cry on? Who was there for her? Nobody...because she was the strong, unshakeable, Tea Delgado.

She took off her shoes as soon as she walked into her apartment; her feet were killing her. With all that dancing she had done in her office, she would undoubtedly pay with blisters in the morning. Anna used to say that the mark of a great dancer was the condition of her feet. They had to bear the battle scars...they had to work hard.

Tea popped a batch of popcorn with extra butter, and her secret ingredient to spiciness…New Orleans's Hellfire hot sauce. She turned the bottle upside down, letting the spice drip into her popcorn, shaking the flavor all through the bowl. Delgado Corn was a rare treat, too high in fat and caloric content to eat very often. When she was depressed, she could guiltlessly eat a full bowl or two, chasing it with a bottle of soda.

*****

As tired as she was, she couldn't fall asleep. The skeletons were rattling too loudly in her closet; her past was haunting her yet again. Her history made her sad, seeing how far she thought she'd come, but really had not, was down right depressing. Old habits died hard, but the past never did. It would take just one word, one image, one thought to bring long "forgotten" incidences to the surface.

She tried not to think about the child she never birthed. No one besides Michael knew about it, not her brothers, not her father, not even her best friend. She couldn't control all of the thoughts that visited her mind, though she tried.

She thought about where her life started to go wrong, from birth, or was it some time later. Before her mother left, or after? When she got pregnant, after the baby was gone? Would her life have been completely different if she had a female role model to look up to?

She turned over, covering her ears, kicking the sheets off her body, lifting them back up to her neck, nothing worked. History was calling to her, confronting her, controlling her. But her eyelids grew too heavy; each blink became longer until her eyes completely shut.

Her sleep was restless; sweat seeped through her pores, wetting her bedding. It was nights like this, that in the morning, she was still exhausted…like she had never fallen asleep. Often, after a night of fighting the subconscious, she would feel beaten and bruised. She would have to take a long, hot bath to loosen her stiff body, and crawl back in bed, praying for inner peace.

The nightmares came almost as soon as she closed her eyes. Like they were waiting for her to be at her most vulnerable to pounce. Her subconscious was tricky, when she was awake, it would throw little subtle hints and reminders her way, wearing her down so they could do their real damage…at night…when her mind was idle.

She was just sixteen, alone, walking through the roughest area of town. They wouldn't dare allow a Planned Parenthood on the Upper West Side; property value would have taken a nosedive. No, she had to take the subway, her backpack secured tightly to her body, wearing her headphones, pretending to be listening to music. She couldn't afford the batteries, she had used her last few pieces of lose change to buy a subway token.

She couldn't go to Del or Jose or Enrique for money, they would ask too many questions. She packed a few snacks, stuffing them in her backpack. She didn't know how long the procedure would last, or much else about what would be done to her body. Nothing other than her "problem" would be taken care of.

Her hand gripped onto the slippery, metal bar that she used to support herself. There were strange people around her, delusional homeless people, walking from car to car, begging for some "spare change." Some reeked of body order, or stale alcohol, simply not caring. People dug deep into their pockets, extracting what little coins rattled around in the pockets.

She couldn't get a dime. Not from her father, or her rich so-called boyfriend. They couldn't even muster sympathy, compassion or love…yet strangers were giving the downtrodden what little they could spare.

The people around her wore the stories of their lives on their face. What she couldn't figure out, she simply made up, each line and wrinkle had its own story. Like the older lady, without teeth, bitter, hard-nosed, angry. Or the man who was in his early thirties, but looked like he was in his late fifties. Alcohol had aged him. Then there was the teenager, bopping his head to whatever was blaring from his headphones. He was hardcore, definitely a follower, certainly trouble.

People were looking at her, as she had looked at them. Reading her story on her face, whispering their findings to those around them. What did they think the bags underneath her eyes meant? Did they think the sleeplessness came from too much partying? Did they know the puffy, dark sacks beneath her eyes were a result of crying every night because of her carelessness? Was the slouch in her posture from being a typical slacker, too lazy to stand to her full height? Or did they know it was from being just plain tired. Could they see the unborn baby within her womb? Did they already condemn her for what she had yet to do?

The train stopped abruptly propelling her forward, then back into place.

"This is hell. Everyone going to hell get off now! Hey you…bitch…murderer…get off my train!" The conductor yelled at Tea.

"Get off!! Get off!!" The passengers screamed at her.

A group of men grabbed her by her arm, forcing her off the train. She fell to the ground; face first. The ground vibrated, as the train started moving again, without her, faces of the passengers hanging out the window, watching her.

The Planned Parenthood signed blinked and glowed ahead of her, with a pair of hands clasped together one minute, then open and welcoming the next. A hug. She wanted a hug, needed physical contact and warmth. As if hypnotized, she eased toward the building.

The inside glowed; fluorescent lights illuminated the reception area. Everyone inside, everyone looking to be treated, looked just like her. They turned to her, taunting her with their superior attitudes. But they were exactly like her, in the same awful predicament.

"Come here," the receptionist beckoned, tapping her pencil on a clipboard.

"Yes, um, I don't know how this is done," Tea stammered.

"Yeah, sure you don't. Look, you can't get it done today. You have to speak to a counselor today, and if you decide to go through with the procedure, you have to schedule an appointment…but I'm sure you already know that. You need to fill out this paper." She shoved the clipboard in Tea's direction, jamming it into her hand. "Bring it back when you're finished.

Two other women stood behind the counter with the receptionist. She could hear them whispering about her.

"Another one."

"Don't they ever learn?"

"She'll be like the others, killing baby after baby."

"Bet she won't finish high school."

"She's doomed to failure."

Tea plugged her ears, but their voices penetrated through her skin and they echoed. The same words reverberated through her brain, until she thought she was literally going to lose her mind.

Then there were the voices of the other young girls, smacking on bubble gum, filing their nails, running the fingers through their hair…acting like it was…normal. They pointed at her and giggled at some inside joke. She could hear little utterances, spoken just loud enough for her to hear.

"Look at da bitch actin' like she all high and mighty."

"She lookin' like she fuckin' scared; shit, she'll get used to it."

She wasn't like them, she was smart, had education, ambition, goals. She was better than them, with their broken English and slang-laced sentences. She did not belong, but she had to do what was best.

Bile began to build up in the back of her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it tasted of death. There was a very distinct and foul stench in the air sickening to her system. Her hands could not complete the paperwork, the whispers were distracting, and the smell was too strong.

What she saw in the girls around her was frightening. She saw herself, and what she would become if she stayed. It was a cycle with them; they would keep getting themselves into trouble, if they never had to deal with the consequences. If the never had to deal with the early morning feedings, why should they stop?

"Hey, can't you read? You're not finished with that paperwork yet?"

She scanned the room again, seeing her face on every girl in the clinic.

"Maybe she doesn't understand English?"

The clipboard slipped from her hands, crashing to the ground.

The telephone rang loudly next to Tea's head, startling her. She sat straight up and reached blindly for the receiver.

"Hello?" She answered groggily.

"Tea, it's Roseanne. I've been trying to get in touch with you."

"Oh, hey…yeah…I've been busy."

"I'm in trouble, Tea, and I don't know what to do."

Though the clock read 3:30, she was glad for the interruption. "I know."

"Carlotta? I should have known. You know she hates me Tea, but you're probably going to believe her."

"No, I'm not. Roseanne, no matter what, we're family. That's what counts and I will always be there for you." You will not go through this alone.

"Tea, I didn't mean for things to turn out this way. I just wanted to be happy with Christian…I wanted us to be a family. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing is wrong with that." It's all I ever wanted…to be happy…with a real family.

"What should I do? I love him so much, but I don't want to raise his child alone…if I decide to have it."

"Carlotta said you threatened to abort the pregnancy if Christian doesn't agree to stay married to you…is that true?"

"I didn't say it exactly like that."

"How exactly did you say it?"

"I said I didn't know if I was ready to be a single parent."

Tea and Roseanne talked until the sun came up. Roseanne broke down crying a couple of times, fearing that she had finally ruined her life. Tea cried with her, reflecting on her life, and the secret that weighed so heavily on her heart.

It was Tea's idea to have Roseanne spend a few days in New York. She had no one in Llanview, willing to be her friend, lend a friendly ear, offer her any support. Tea knew what that felt like, to be completely alone while pondering a very important decision.

Roseanne was different from Tea. She didn't take the time to think about consequences or repercussions…she just "did" and "dealt" later. This decision was too important, it would change the entire course of her life. Tea, for the most part, was about surviving and rebounding. Roseanne, being of different mindset, might not have been so lucky.

Tea hung up the phone, her voice hoarse from hours of talking and crying. She lay back in bed, truly ready for sleep to overtake her. She closed her eyes, entering a fictitious world of happiness, one where she had the family she so desperately craved.