In the Neighborhood of Normal

by Cindy Maddox

  Ann started chewing her thumb nail again. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “I don’t either,” Mish admitted. “All I know is it led me to you. And I’m glad. And I think your grandma would be glad too. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Ann gave a watery smile. “I’m glad too. It makes me feel like I’m not completely alone.”

  “You’re not,” Mish said as she put her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “So, Um Ann, let’s figure out what we’re gonna do next.”

  They sat and talked for a long time, the autumn leaves swirling around their feet. The girl started opening up. Not about the pregnancy so much, but about the rest of her life. Ann was a really good student, but her grades had been slipping the last two months, and she was supposed to be applying for colleges. Then there were her friends. None of them knew.

  “You haven’t even told your best friend?” she asked. Ann shook her head. “But surely she knows about you and your boyfriend, that you’re…” She couldn’t seem to ask the question and she wasn’t sure why. But Ann must’ve understood because she shook her head again.

  Well, that was surprising. Mish thought most girls would’ve told their friends they were having sex, or even thinking of having sex. What would lead a girl not to tell nobody? If the relationship would be frowned upon, maybe. Like if the boy was a different race or religion. Or if he was too old for her. Or if…suddenly a thought occurred to her and she blurted it out without thinking. “You wasn’t raped, was you?”

  Ann’s eyes widened and her face went pale. “No! Nothing like that! It was just…it was just a mistake. That’s all.”

  “Oh good,” Mish said with relief. “So…if you’re seven weeks along, you’ll be due when? April? May? You’ll miss some school, of course, but you might still be able to finish the year if you talk to the guidance counselor, get some take-home work, stuff like that. I hear the schools are pretty good about helping girls who get in trouble. Not like in my day, when they married you off right away and then pretended you got pregnant on your honeymoon. Happened to a couple girls in my high school class. Our hospital had never seen so many seven-pound preemies! Don’t know who they thought they was kidding. Of course, the girls always dropped out of school, but that’s not the case nowadays. Does your school have a daycare? I know some schools do. Is it free?”

  It took Mish a minute to realize that Ann had gone even quieter while she was talking. Suddenly she realized why. “You don’t want this baby, do you?” she asked at last.

  “Of course not!”

  “But I mean—you don’t want to give birth to this baby.”

  Ann looked down at her feet as they scuffed the ground beneath the bench. She started to say something before finally just shaking her head again.

  “But you could give the baby up for adoption, let your child grow up in a good home. I’m sure there’s a nice couple who would love to have a wee one, if you would just…”

  “No!” Ann said, but when she spoke again her tone was softer. “I can’t be pregnant. I can’t do this. I want it out of my body so I can forget this ever happened.” When Mish didn’t respond, she went on. “Listen, I know you’re probably against abortion. But this is my choice. And if you can’t help me, I understand. But you’re not going to change my mind. If you can’t accept my decision, then…then…thanks anyway.” She stood up and tossed her backpack over one shoulder. “It was nice to meet you.”

  Mish watched, torn, as the girl walked away. Ann was right—Mish didn’t like the idea of abortion. But she also didn’t believe in turning her back on a girl in trouble. What if it were her Livie? Wouldn’t she want someone to walk beside the girl, help her through it? But what about Jesus? Would Jesus approve of her helping a girl get an abortion? She didn’t know. But she did know one thing. She was supposed to follow the love. And right now, the love was turning the corner and moving out of sight.

  ***

  If Juliann hadn’t stopped at the crosswalk to wait for the light, she probably would have missed her. As it was, the old lady—what was her name?—had to call her twice before she answered, forgetting for a moment that she was just Ann. As she waited for the woman to catch up, she almost laughed at the scene. The little old lady was quite a sight, wearing that ugly flowered blouse and a cardigan sweater, shuffling along in her sensible shoes. But there was something about her—something that was trustworthy. Something that made Juliann smile.

  She agreed to meet again in a few days, but only because the old woman—what was her name?—had promised not to try to change her mind. That’s good because she would be seriously disappointed if she tried.

  She refused the offer of a ride. Her grandma’s car was just around the corner, though of course she didn’t say that. She had her learner’s permit but not her license and wasn’t supposed to be driving alone.

  She didn’t know why she felt better. It’s not like she had a solution. Nothing was different. Except I’m not alone, she thought. I have a friend. A friend named—that’s it!—Mish! I have a friend named Mish.

  5.

  Mish wished she had somebody to talk to. She wished she could talk to Pastor Jeff about Ann, but since he didn’t believe in her mission, there was no point. But she sure would love to know what he would think about her helping a girl get an abortion. Of course, the girl might change her mind. But Mish wouldn’t try to talk her out of it. That would just make Ann run away.

  She wrote a poem about her feelings, like she always did when her thoughts were swirling. Floyd always told her she was wasting her time, that nobody needed poems about the kind of silly stuff that filled her mind. But it usually helped her so she kept doing it. She read over the one she’d written this morning.

  I call her Ann, but I know that’s not her name.

  She was too afraid to tell me so I use it just the same.

  She’s too young to be having a baby

  Being young won’t stop it from coming but maybe

  I can help her not feel so alone

  I’ll be her friend in person or on the phone.

  I don’t like abortion and I don’t know if God does either.

  But I can’t speak for God. I’m not Jesus or Solomon, neither.

  She’s having a child, but she’s a child too.

  and if I can’t help both, I have to choose between the two.

  So I’ll choose the one who’s already here

  because I followed the love and love conquers fear.

  She felt better after the poem, felt like she knew what she needed to do. Still, she was in over her head. And she needed some answers before she met with Ann again. But who could she ask? Not her pastor. And not her family, that’s for sure. One place immediately came to mind. It had been in the news a lot recently. Bomb threats, she thought it was. But she knew they would help. She got out her phone book and found the number for the women’s clinic.

  “I would like an appointment, please,” she said to the woman who answered the phone.

  “Of course. What kind of appointment do you need?”

  Mish paused. “Well, I guess the kind where you do more talking than doctoring.”

  “You want a consultation,” the receptionist replied.

  “Yes, that sounds right.”

  “And what type of service would we be talking about? Pregnancy or birth control or—”

  “It’s a little late for birth control, I’m afraid. I want to talk about an unplanned pregnancy and what the options are.”

  “No problem. We had a cancellation. By any chance would you be able to come in at three today?”

  “Yes, that’d be dandy.” Mish gave the clerk her name and address.

  “Thank you, and for our records, do you have insurance?”

  “Yes, I have Medicare,” Mish replied at once.

  “You mean Medicaid.”

&
nbsp; “Isn’t Medicaid what the poor folks need? No, I just have Medicare. And a supplement, of course.” There was a long pause. “Is that a problem?” she asked at last.

  “Um, no, I guess not,” the clerk stammered. “It’s just unusual, that’s all. You’re, um, sure about the pregnancy?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it’s a done deal.”

  “And this appointment is for you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, then we’ll see you at three.”

  Mish studied the screen and then pushed the red button to end the call. She was a little nervous about the meeting—after all, she’d never done anything like this before. Never even been in such a place. And she didn’t really like driving into the city by herself. But it was what she needed to do if she wanted to help Ann. Wait—maybe Ann would want to go with her. Yes, why hadn’t she thought of that before? The girl probably had lots of questions too. They could get them answered together. But before she could text the girl, her phone rang.

  “Hello, this is George Loveitt from Loveitt Insurance. Is this Marsha?”

  “Mish,” she corrected him automatically.

  “My apologies,” the smooth voice continued. “I couldn’t quite read the writing on the card I received from one of my reps. I’m told you’re interested in talking about life insurance.”

  “Life insurance?” she repeated blankly. “I’m confused.”

  “I know. Life insurance can be confusing. And at your age, it may seem premature. But it’s never too early to plan for your future.”

  Mish chuckled. “Well, at my age, the future is gonna take care of itself whatever I do. Sure you don’t want to sell me a burial plot instead?”

  There was a long silence. “I guess it’s my turn to be confused. Didn’t you request a life insurance quote at the college fair?”

  “College? No, you must be mistaken. I’m a bit old for college.”

  George cleared his throat. “Well, I was going to tell you about a special program we have for college students. But perhaps you’d be interested in a different kind of policy. Are you in good health?”

  “Fit as a fiddle!” Mish said proudly. “But I think I’m doing fine in the insurance department.”

  “Really? How much life insurance do you have?” he asked.

  “Well, um…” The truth was, Mish didn’t know. Floyd always handled that stuff, but she was sure she had enough.

  “If you don’t know right off the top of your head how much coverage you have, then it’s probably not enough. We here at Loveitt Insurance would be happy to offer you a quote on some term life insurance. We have many options for people at different stages of life, and our prices are quite competitive. If—”

  “Wait—what did you say?” Mish interrupted.

  “We have many options” he repeated.

  “No, before that. What’s the name of your company?”

  “Loveitt Insurance. We’re a family business, and we’ve been in the Charleston area for thirty years, helping fine people like you…”

  He kept rattling on, but she stopped paying attention. Loveitt Insurance. Follow the love. Did this mean she was supposed to buy life insurance? She couldn’t imagine why, but it seemed possible. The man had her number, after all. He had her name—well, sort of. People often confused her name because it was so unusual. But the Loveitt—really, it had to be a sign. But how much life insurance did she need? How much would be enough?

  “Twenty-five thousand,” she concluded.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Twenty-five thousand,” she repeated to the salesman. “I want to buy twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of life insurance, please.”

  “Oh! Well, okay then. When can you come into the office to complete the application?”

  Mish agreed on a day and time, then hung up. Whew. This following the love thing sure was complicated.

  ***

  Juliann didn’t bother wiping the steam off the mirror after she got out of the shower. She didn’t really want to see her body. She didn’t want to see the changes that were already starting to happen. She could feel them, though. Her boobs were getting bigger, though she wasn’t getting any fatter yet, fortunately. All the nausea and vomiting made sure of that. And damn, but she was tired all the time. Was that because she wasn’t sleeping well?

  She had to be careful—her mom had started to notice how tired she was. Her mom had even let her stay home from school today, thinking she might be coming down with something. If only she could stop the dreams. It was never the same dream. One minute something good would be happening, and suddenly it would take a dark turn. Or she lost something and couldn’t find it. Or her entire school was under water and she had to swim to class. She wished she had somebody to talk to about them, but somehow, she didn’t think Mish would be an expert on dream interpretation.

  Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure Mish was an expert on anything. She sure didn’t know about STDs. Or abortion. Or teen pregnancy. Or anything else Juliann was dealing with. But Juliann had to hand it to the old woman—she was all in. She didn’t walk away, not even when she found out that Juliann wanted an abortion. And she was clearly a church lady, since she kept talking about Jesus sending her. That was weird, but her grandma had been a church lady, too, so she tried not to freak out about it.

  When she heard her phone buzz in the bedroom, she threw on her robe and rushed to get it. Maybe it’s him, she thought, then chided herself. She had made it clear that she didn’t want to hear from him again. It was probably just one of her friends, texting to see why she wasn’t in school. But no, it wasn’t Hailey or Emma.

  Hi Ann it’s Mish. I got an appointment at the clinic in Charleston at three so I can ask some questions. Want to go with me? I can pick you up.

  Juliann’s stomach churned, though for once it wasn’t morning sickness. She knew she needed to go to the clinic, and the sooner the better, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted Mish to go with her. Eventually Mish would want to know the circumstances around her pregnancy, and that was not a story she wanted to tell. It was too humiliating. The national website for the women’s center said they wouldn’t make a woman say how she got pregnant. But was that true? And what if Mish pushed?

  On the other hand, she wondered if Mish might be the solution to her problem. Or one of her problems, anyway. She had dismissed the idea because it just wasn’t right, using the kind old lady, taking advantage of her that way. But if Mish was offering to go, how could she refuse? She was running out of options.

  She texted back with a place and time to meet.

  Juliann had wondered about what she and the old lady would talk about for the thirty-minute drive, but she needn’t have worried. Mish kept up a running conversation all by herself. She talked about her granddaughter, a freshman in college in Florida, and about her son who was some kind of businessman, and about living on a farm her whole life. It was helpful, really, not having to make conversation, and Mish didn’t seem to mind that she was quiet. Juliann got the feeling that Mish didn’t have that many people to talk to so she tried not to let her mind wander. Listening was the least she could do in return.

  “My husband has been gone for almost a year now,” she was saying. “It’s strange, being in the house alone all the time. It’s so quiet. He always had the TV on, even if he wasn’t in the room. I hated the constant noise, but now sometimes I turn it on, too, just so the house ain’t so quiet. The hardest part is there’s nobody to listen to my silly stories. Stories need ears to be worth the telling. You know what I mean?”

  “I do,” Juliann admitted. “That’s what my grandmother did for me. She always asked about my day, what I learned, who I sat with at lunch. Sometimes we made up stories together. She would start it, like, ‘Once upon a time there was a hippo named …’ and I would fill in the blanks. When I got too old for that, she encouraged my cre
ative writing.”

  “What kind of things do you write? More stories?”

  “Sometimes. Mostly I write poetry.”

  “Really? I write poetry, too! Maybe we should trade poems.”

  Juliann hesitated. “I don’t know if you would like mine. I mean, it’s a special style that is meant to be performed, not read.”

  “Like slam poetry? Or spoken word?” Mish asked.

  “Wait…you know slam poetry?” She couldn’t keep the shock out of her voice.

  Mish laughed. “I love surprising people by knowing stuff they don’t think I’d know. Yes, I know slam poetry, though I’ve never tried none of it. I saw a little on one of the daytime shows. I don’t have a chance to hear that much of it and don’t know how to do it. Mine is more typical old lady stuff, I’m afraid. Rhyming verses like on a greeting card. My husband always said my poems were stupid and worthless and nobody would want to read them.”

  She said it nonchalantly, like it was a fact and not an opinion. Juliann was starting to dislike Mish’s dead husband. “And my grandma always said that only a mundane mind would call art worthless.”

  Mish was silent for a few seconds, and Juliann was afraid she had gone too far. Then Mish laughed. “Oh, Ann, I wish I’d met you sooner. Or your grandmother. Because I would have loved to see Floyd’s face if I’d said that in response!” Her smile slipped a little. “Of course, I would have paid for it, but it would’ve been worth it.”

  “Paid for it? How—”

  “Oh, damn. I’m sorry, hon.”

  “For what?” She hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t realized how close they were to the women’s center, but they had arrived at the gate, where half a dozen protestors stood. She should have prepared herself for this, she realized. The protests were on the news enough, plus someone in her social studies class had done a report on abortion last year. So she had seen the signs. She should have been prepared. But she wasn’t.

  Choose Life. Abortion is Murder. Babies are murdered here. The words were bad enough, but then came the images. A bloody fetus. Tiny arms and legs. She buried her face in her hands.