In the dark, he groped for his keys on his cluttered desk and grabbed his leather jacket from the over utilized clothes rack just next to his door. He cursed silently when he almost tripped on the Spiderman figurine strewn on the floor from a week ago when his best friend came over to admire his toy collection.

Quietly, he tiptoed passed his brother’s door, knowing his brother’s sleep was as light as a feather drifting in a helium atmosphere. It was so cold that January and it seemed like the snow won’t be thawing for a very long time, at least not for him. His parents were sleeping soundly in the master bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Only he alone was awake. The quietness was threatening to burst his eardrums. Insects went into hibernation under a blanket of mocking stars and the indifferent, yawning moon lazily tolerating its watch over this part of the world. He left the house, opened up the front gates before stepping inside the black van. The heater was acting up and he shivered against the wintry air biting at his nose and fingertips. The van rolled out of the compound after a waiting spell because the driver was grappling with indecision for a prolonged moment. He drove slowly because some street lights were not working and the roads were slippery. His heart was pounding so hard against his chest and he could hear his damning thoughts screaming in the hollow chamber of his mind, reverberating off the walls with increasing momentum.

His lips were trembling but not from the outwardly cold. It was more than he could bear- the worst decision of his life. Worst.

Her house which was renovated from an old farm was only about half an hour’s drive from his. However, the journey was exceptionally long at that ghastly time- it seemed to be almost an eternity. Still under the cloak of the night, he pulled up outside her gates, climbed his way into their driveway and unlatched the side gate from the inside. With heavy footfalls made more burdened by his treacherous emotions, he made his way to the wooden door of the home office which used to be a barn. Using the key she had given him, he unlocked it and pushed the door open to find her huddling up against the wall in a corner, bathed under the dimmed lighting. The computer was turned on and on the screen was a digitalized caricature of him surfing across the concave screen with bloodshot eyes. The dark circles under her eyes matched his and her cheeks were sticky with tears. Wordlessly, he embraced her tenderly and she nodded, indicating that she was ready. They left the barn for his van with his arm draped across her quavering shoulders the entire time. They made their way to Porter’s Bay, just next to their city of Bayport. The clinic in Porter’s Bay was opened twenty four hours a day.

He knew he would always remember the cold, detached clinic and the nurse behind the registration counter with her beak nose and impassive eyes. Probably they used to feel a heady confusion of emotions but as years passed so they were numbed. They were the first couple there and he would admit he was surprised to find it empty. She held on to his arm the whole time, trembling with the enormity of what she was about to do, what they were about to do. With his free hand, being rather ambidextrous, he filled in the forms, led her to the seat, and went over the vending machine for a cup of hot chocolate for her. When he returned, she refused to take even a sip and he did not pressure her. On a rack drilled high up on the wall was a television showing horrific images of the deed. He was transfixed with a sense of morbidity and so was she. She gripped his arm tighter still, her knuckles bleeding white. Absentmindedly, he patted her hand while he was already drowning in his own guilt, fears and unshed tears.

He wanted to tell her that they should not this- they never should. It ran contrary to all that he fought for though he wondered if he was still worthy of his morals and beliefs.

She was called into the doctor’s office for the mandatory counseling the clinic made compulsory. He had no idea about the exact chronicle of procedures but most likely, it would all end up in the same conclusion. Should he barge in and stop her? Stop them? But she said it was her body.

It was her body. It was their mistake. And it was not their life. Even they would not give up on their lives, who were they to make the decision for another who had never harmed them in anyway?

There was a florist just next to the clinic. He went in and bought her a bunch of white lilies. White lilies too symbolized death. He was now baffled about whom he was buying the flowers for. Anger took the place of helplessness and frustration. He stormed the lilies into the dirty snow and kicked the side of his van repeatedly.

It was not too late.

He dashed into the clinic, ignoring the nurse’s frown. The sun was rising behind him and she was trying to stop him with yells but he was too fast. Before he could intrude into the doctor’s office though, the door opened and there she was, at the entrance with wet eyes glimmering sadness.

"No… don’t do this…" He took her hands and gripped them tightly. Another nurse appeared from nowhere with a dark green gown for her. "It’s our mistake but let’s not make it pay… Ness… please… I beg you… please…"

She burst into tears and he drew her close to him, crying along with her. The nurse with gown exchanged glances with the doctor behind his girlfriend before shrugging and moving away. They would not need her assistance, she must have gathered. If he had bionic ears, he might hear her heart sighing with relief.

The van made its way in muted daylight back to Bayport. Again in silence he drove. She stared blankly out of her side of the window, thinking of the uncertain future probably. He had to be strong for the both of them now though he was scared to death. But he knew they made the right decision. He knew they did.

And so they tried to hide it until they were ready. She wore looser clothes while he took on more part-time jobs. His brother was getting worried, thinking he was saving up for a new car or college and tried to talk to him but he was atypically reticent. He was exhausted at the end of the day, his grades were tumbling, and he was alienating friends and family. She quarreled with him often; it was also his fault because he had anger load up in his chest at everybody and most of all, at himself for not being able to provide for her. However, they always made up. She grew more attached to the baby and the most beautiful moments they had, the moments when love dictated their actions was when she lay on his taut stomach and they tried to think of names for their baby which, they knew by then, was a girl.

He drew strength from the love he had already for his unborn child. He hoped, with all his heart, that she would be as pretty as her mother but with a head of light golden hair.

Finally, her stomach was starting to show blatantly but he hadn’t earned enough. One night, when he returned home from the petrol kiosk, she was in the living room with her mother. His parents were there and so was his concerned brother.

She was trembling badly and so was he. They had the most strenuous discussion but he could not remember the exact words being exchanged. Her mother blamed him and told them that she had transferred her to another school in another state far away from him. When she had given birth, the baby would be adopted by her childless cousin and her husband and she would go to college in England. He kept silent, trying to make eye contact with her. She kept silent, keeping her eyes on the table. His brother kept silent, feeling uncomfortable and worried for him. Only his parents and her mother were talking. His parents kept apologizing for him. That much he remembered.

When the guests left, his parents dragged him into the kitchen. His father’s angry eyes were like stabbing daggers into his heart but his temper was the silent kind. His mother ranted at him and as tension rose, terrible words of rage were hurled like hailing curses. He remembered shouting back at them and making his mother cry with so much unspeakable wrath. His father slapped him hard- his father never slapped him before. He turned before the brimming tears could fall and dashed up the stairs to his room with his father hollering furiously at him to apologize to his mother. His brother tried to halt his escape by grabbing his hand but the grip was weak and he shook it away easily.

He leaned against the door he had slammed shut and breathed heavily. Spidey, which he almost tripped over on his way to her house that terrible night, was still where he kicked it. His room was messier because he had no time to clean it up. He stared at the collection of Star Wars, GI Joe and Marvel Heroes figurines on the shelves above his bed and his treasured collection of comic books and sports magazines collecting dust in his bookshelf. For the life of him, he could not remember anything beyond that trip to the clinic. His mother was still shouting at him to face the music and his brother was speaking calmly to reason with her. Wasn’t he facing the consequences the right way he knew he should? Weakened knees crumbled under him and he sobbed silently. He was doing his best. Boys cry. Men don’t.

She called him in the middle of the night. She did not want to give their baby up for adoption. They had decided to keep it out of love and responsibility. She kept crying and his thoughts kept swirling around him, strangling him. When he put down the phone after whispered words of love, he pulled out his haversack from the top shelf of his wardrobe. It was seasoned from frequent trips of backpacking which he excitedly gone with his friends ever since he was barely fifteen. That was two-years ago- that was an eternity away.

His brother opened the door on the side of his room of their adjoined bathroom to see him stuffing clothes hurriedly into the hardy backpack. There was no judgment in those enigmatic deep brown eyes which he could always find borrowed strength and hope from. Whatever clothes he packed into the bag, his brother pulled out.

"Don’t do this, Frank. I made up my mind."

"Where are you going to? How are you going to provide for your family? There’s high school you’ve yet to finish and college to start…"

"So the tracks derailed but it just means that I’m heading off to a new destination- the best one given the situation…" his voice withered off and he bit down on his lower lips. "Her name’s Hallie."

His brother grew quiet and it seemed like time had ceased ticking. Finally, he nodded. "Let me guess, Vegas?"

"Yah. I was thinking of that."

"Talk to mom and dad again... they are angry but it doesn’t mean they will be angry forever… most likely, they are angry at themselves… not you…"

"Didn’t you hear what they said? Didn’t you hear what Andrea said? Mom’s all ready to disown me in the kitchen and dad… dad is always so afraid I’ll screw up my life and I did! In his eyes I did but I’m trying to make amends! Frank…" His voice took a desperate plea. "I’ve made up my mind… I love her. She loves me. We have a lovely girl called Hallie on the way to greet the world. We are going to be fine. We cannot lose Hallie…"

His brother sighed in capitulation, knowing how stubborn he was. Slowly, he got up and helped him pack. In the darkness again, almost like a replication of that night, his brother drove him to her house but they stopped by the town central on the way. He wondered what his brother was planning but before thoughts could turn into paranoia, he returned, shut the van’s door tightly and passed him a wad of cash.

"You’ll need this, don’t reject it for I’ll only toss it into the snow. There’s bills to pay, diapers, rent, food, doctor’s fees, milk powder…" Frank’s voice droned on but he could hear the concern and heartbreaking farewell behind the monotonous speech.

He burst into tears, hiding his vulnerability behind his hands. knowing he was really a child still. He knew that when he tried to squeeze Spidey into his bursting backpack but shoved it in his cargo pants’ roomy side pockets instead.

"Don’t be gone too long… mom and dad will forgive you soon enough if they hadn’t done so already. I don’t know if you’re doing the right thing but you know I’ll always be here when you need me. Take care of yourself kiddo… no… you’re not a kid anymore… you must grow up now and…" Frank’s rambles died away. Joe did not know how to reply Frank through all the saline tears that were now streaming down his cheeks openly.

Frank breathed in deeply before he lifted the wooden cross he wore around his neck always off his head. Turning around, he put it around his neck.

"Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon, brother. And…" Frank reached inside his breast pocket and took out a neatly folded piece of paper. "Printed this out before we left. It’s a map that will take you to Vegas via the most direct route. Remember, the Internet has plenty of resources for things like that. Ask people too if you get lost. Don’t let your pride bring you unwittingly to Nebraska." Frank patted his shoulders and tried to smile but couldn’t. He pulled Joe into a fierce embrace and Joe knew it was going to be a long time before he would hear Frank nag at him again. He already missed his brother very much.

"Here, brat… we’re going to be late." Frank thumped his back reassuringly. "Have to make a move now. She’s waiting for you."

He pulled away and smiled grimly. "Yah. Vegas."

"Vegas." Frank chuckled lowly before choking back on his silent tears. "Write, call, email… the storm will pass. Come home soon… I want to drive this van again."

"I will." Joe promised, carving the words into his heart. He felt Spidey against his thigh and then, with a resolved sigh, took it out from his pocket and handed it to Frank. "Keep it for me. I will come back for it."

"You better." Frank took it and ruffled his blond hair. "You better."