Compromising Positions

by Mary Whitney

  I closed my eyes for a moment and took my hand away from his. When I looked at him again, he frowned in concern. “What did I say?”

  “It’s my turn now.” I took a deep breath, bracing myself for what was sure to be rejection. In his eyes, it was probably unforgivable. My heart hardened, as I told myself if he didn’t understand, then it wasn’t meant to be. With my eyes set straight on his, I announced, “I should tell you this. I had an abortion when I was sixteen.”

  “You did?” The expression on his face was one of calm alarm.

  “Yes. After my old boyfriend moved away, I was depressed. There was this guy, Chad, kind of a rocker guy, rode a motorcycle, did poorly in school, but he’d always flirted with me. Anyway…” I tried to figure out how to describe what it was like to be an awkward, good girl, getting the attention of the bad boy and what it could lead to. “Did you ever see the movie Fast Times at Ridgemont High?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that was me. The nice girl who got caught up with a jerk, only to get pregnant.”

  “How long had you been dating?”

  “Dating?” My stomach twisted just as it always did when I told the story. It was the physical sign of why I so rarely spoke about it. “We didn’t really date.”

  “What happened?” he asked, leaning in further as if that might loosen up my tongue.

  For a split second, I questioned whether it was wise to continue. One day we might not be as friendly as we were tonight. Then I considered all that he’d disclosed to me. A part of me felt a need to share this with him. I exhaled and said, “The backseat of his brother’s car. I was saying ‘no.’ He was saying ‘yes.’ He won.”

  Michael stiffened with alarm and asked frantically, “He raped you?”

  Even though I’d repeated the words before, they came slowly to me. “I’d say it met the definition of rape. That night it felt like rape, but…” I shook my head. “The high schooler I was would never, ever have called it that.”

  “And. Afterward. What happened?”

  “He lost interest. I guess I was a lousy lay.” I stared at the ceiling, remembering my own stupidity. Eventually, I sighed. “When I found out I was pregnant, we hadn’t seen each other in a couple of weeks. I was pretty sure he was after this other girl, Shelly, by then. I waited until after lunch, and I told him. He just shrugged and said it was too bad. Then the bell rang. I went home and bawled my eyes out, and the next morning there was an envelope with fifty dollars and a note that said ‘sorry.’” I rolled my eyes. “Not exactly a gentleman.”

  “That’s awful. So what happened?”

  “I had an abortion, mostly paying for it myself with my savings I’d been working on since I was seven.”

  “Wow,” he mumbled in apparent shock.

  In most of those feel-good Hollywood movies, the girl or woman gets to the clinic and can’t go through with it, or if, God forbid she does get an abortion, she’s riddled with guilt and regret her whole life. I had a need to tell him there was an alternate reality out there, even if he disagreed with it. “I want to be honest with you. Almost twenty years later, I don’t have any regrets.”

  “None?” He leaned back as though there was something wrong with me.

  “Nope. It was the right thing to do for me and for any child that I might have carried to term.” No matter how true that was and how true I was being to myself, his confused stare was disarming. I was being judged by someone I cared about and wondered if this would change his opinion of me altogether. It was crushing to think that it would. My heart began to race with the thought of losing the relationship we were building. With panic in my voice, I asked, “You probably think I’m a terrible person, don’t you?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Michael

  I stared at Jessie for a moment, but I wasn’t debating her question. Of course, I didn’t think she was a terrible person. I gazed at her as I absorbed how her story—and the way she told it—embodied everything about her.

  She was flawed, to be sure, with a selfish air and mercenary qualities of any successful politician, even if the person meant well. Her honesty was a rarity though. She disclosed her motivations, both good and bad. I shook my head. “No. Of course I don’t think you’re a terrible person, but why don’t you have any regrets? I’m not sure I understand that part of it.”

  Jessie eyed me warily, as if she was skeptical something else lay beneath what I said. She began with some reluctance, “Once I found out I was pregnant, I became completely rational. I was a teenager, but I knew I had a bright future ahead. Having a baby could change all that and mean that the kid would have a challenging life, as well. Plus, I wasn’t in love with Chad, and I knew he’d make a horrible father.” She held up a finger to make a point. “I’d like to note that from what I understand Chad now has three baby mamas.”

  “Why didn’t you report the rape?”

  She looked at me askance. “Are you crazy? There was no way I was going to report a date rape. I was sixteen. I didn’t want that kind of attention.”

  “Do you talk about it publicly now?”

  “No. Never.”

  “Why not? You could be such a help to young girls and other women…” My voice trailed off as she shook her head, looking at me as if I was clueless.

  “Would you?” She frowned and asked impatiently. “Would you raise an explosive issue like that, one that would permanently define you in your career in public life? Plus, there’s the whole issue that I never reported it. I don’t want to debate anyone over whether or not I was legitimately raped.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment and reopened them to say, “That was stupid of me. Of course, I wouldn’t raise it either. So did you tell your parents? Your friends?”

  “I told Trish about the rape, of course, but no one else. My mom had figured out the pregnancy before I did. She heard me puking a couple of mornings, which I naively thought was a stomach bug. Apparently, severe morning sickness runs in our family.”

  “Did she confront you?”

  “Yeah, not in front of my dad, though. It was only after we talked about it, and I told her that I wanted an abortion that we told him.”

  I could only imagine a military father flying off the handle. “How did he react?”

  “He wasn’t happy, but my dad is nothing, if not calm, cool, and collected. He said it was my choice, but I knew he wanted me to end the pregnancy.”

  “Really?” It was so hard for me to grasp that a parent would want that for his grandchild.

  “Oh, yeah. He hated Chad. Mainly though, I think he thought while it was my mistake, it was an unfair situation to me. It wasn’t like Chad was going to carry the baby and raise him. I was going to have to do that by myself. Of course, my parents would’ve helped me, but that would only be so much. I’ll never forget my dad saying to me, ‘You, or especially a child, shouldn’t have to pay your entire life for a mistake you made when you were sixteen.’ In the end, my dad was like so many people. They say they don’t care about the issue of abortion or even that they oppose it, until their teenage daughter gets pregnant. That changes everything.”

  “Did Trish go to the clinic with you?”

  “Nope. My dad did and even wore his uniform.”

  I could tell she was proud of that part because her eyes sparked a bit when she spoke.

  “There were protestors that day. They ridiculed us. My dad didn’t say a word, even when they made horrible comments about him taking me to a clinic because he molested me.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “It happens. I was lucky to have my dad there, and it’s not like it dissuaded me.” She twisted her mouth in thought. “My decision seems clear to me, but I know some people would think I’m just plain selfish.”

  I looked away in thought. “Life is complicated. I was raised to believe in redemption, regardless of the situation. You were pretty mature about the whole thing and thought it through.” I turned to her and smiled. “It sounds as th
ough you were a very brave kid, and given your convictions, you still are today,”

  “Thanks,” she said, her voice now softer.

  As I continued to hold her hand, our eyes remained locked. Hers were tired, no doubt from the long weekend three time zones away. The weariness in her eyes was coupled with a hint of confusion and a look of uncertainty. With the lightest of touch, she grazed her thumb over my hand. I took it as an unconscious invitation for a kiss.

  I wanted to lean over and show her how much I cared for her. It would surely lead to a wonderful kiss. Most likely, it would be soft in the beginning, and then my imagination leapt ahead. There were sofa pillows behind her and I envisioned guiding her down onto the sofa and doing things to her I’d only fantasized about. Her eyes widened as if she picked up on what I was thinking, and her brow furrowed. “It’s… uh… getting late.”

  “It is.” I snapped out of my fantasy. “I suppose I should be going.”

  “We have votes early tomorrow.”

  “We do.” I grimaced because I needed to go, because of the time and because I might get us both in trouble if I remained. She pulled her hand away as I did the same, and I rose from the sofa.

  “I’ll let you out,” she said.

  She sounded dejected, but I couldn’t be sure. We walked the short way to the door where I turned to face her. Her furtive expression was back, and I smiled trying to put her at ease. “Thank you for listening to my story. I’m sorry you had to find out how you did. I should’ve told you.”

  “Oh no.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. I’m just sorry you’ve had to go through all this. You don’t deserve it. You’ve tried to do the right thing.”

  “As have you.”

  “Well… I don’t know. It was a long time ago—a lifetime ago really.”

  I was silent and gazed down, taking in everything about her. Strong and vulnerable. Sharp and soft. I liked it all. My hand found hers, and I gently caressed it. “Who knew I’d come to Congress and find such a good friend?”

  “I know.” She chuckled. “Same here.”

  A curl from her dark hair rested on her shoulders, and the shadow of the entryway accentuated her soft features. It was so hard to resist her, so I touched the curl and smiled. “Such a good and beautiful friend.”

  Her eyes danced around in seeming wonder at what I said. She answered with a shy smile. “Thanks.”

  The draw to kiss her pulled at me again, and just as I was about to move toward her, I hesitated. Everything will change. I worried about ruining everything. My divorce was still hanging out there, public and unsettled. Even if she kissed me tonight, what if she rejected me tomorrow? She was politically astute enough not to want to be involved in my mess. More important, though, she might think I was a jerk for even trying something while I was still married. I looked away with a frown, dropped her hand, and reached for the doorknob. “Night, Jessie.”

  “Oh.” She stepped back, confused. “Goodnight.”

  As I opened the door, I smiled at her one more time. “Sleep well.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jessie

  Just past seven o’clock the following morning, Trish strode into my office. Until then, I’d been happy to be alone in my silent office with a cup of coffee, laptop, and my head full of Michael Grath and his blue eyes.

  “Morning,” Trish said as she sat down in her favorite chair. “You were out of the house early, so I decided to follow you in.”

  “Yeah… I needed some time to work in peace.” I smiled. “Thanks for dinner last night. It was great to come home to.”

  “You’re welcome.” Trish tapped her pen on the arm of the chair. “Did you read the articles I left you?”

  “Yes. I read them all.” I stressed the last word. I needed to be assertive with Trish, or I’d have to listen to her rant all day.

  “Good.” Trish crossed her arms in self-satisfaction. “And what did you think about the piece on Michael?”

  “Well, I talked with him about it.”

  “Wait.” Trish uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “You talked to him? When? Your flight didn’t get in until late. Did you call him in the middle of the night?”

  “No. Our flights arrived around the same time. He gave me a ride home.”

  “He brought you home?” Trish leaned in further as if to interrogate me.

  “Yes.” I took a sip of coffee, trying to make light of what we both knew was a big deal. “Actually, he also gave me a ride to the airport.”

  “He what?”

  “He offered me a ride last week when we figured out flights were around the same time. No big deal.”

  “No. No big deal at all.” She rolled her eyes. “Jessie…”

  “Okay. Maybe it is.” My laugh was nervous. “You know how I feel.”

  “Exactly. So what are you doing alone with him?”

  “I like spending time with him.”

  “All right,” she said in resignation. “So if you talked with him after you read the article, then he was in your apartment—late—I might add.”

  “Yeah, he was.”

  “Oh God.” She was being overly dramatic. “You’re asking for the gossip to start about you two.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Okay then. What did he say about the story?”

  “That it was accurate. Of course, he knew it was coming out.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No, he told me everything.” I took a deep breath and retold Michael’s story to her. I hoped that Trish might soften up to him a bit more if she heard his side of it. Trish nodded and asked a few questions as I spoke, but she saved her comments for the very end.

  When I finished, she exhaled. “Wow. I’ll never understand these uptight, blueblood Republicans.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’d rather spend the rest of their lives with someone they don’t love and raise a kid in an unhappy home simply because of family honor and religion and all that bullshit.”

  “Something like that.” I laughed.

  “Well, at least he was honest with you, I guess.”

  “Yeah, he was.” I sat up a little straighter. “And I was honest with him. I told him about my abortion.”

  “You’re kidding me?”

  “No. It seemed like the right time.”

  “Huh.” Trish was quiet for a moment. “You never talk about that—not that you’re ashamed or anything. It’s just you keep that time in your life private.”

  “I know, but it felt natural to tell him.”

  “What did Mr. Right-to-Life say?”

  “He was very accepting. He says he believes it’s a woman’s choice.”

  “What?” She snorted. “How does he explain his voting record?”

  “I know. I know. I decided not to grill him about it. It wasn’t the best time for that.”

  “What sort of time was it?” She was leading me.

  “We were just talking… as friends.” I glanced at the sunshine streaming through the window, splashing across the desk. If I wasn’t looking at Trish under her interrogating glare, I could remember how wonderfully intense things were with Michael yesterday. “He was really sweet.”

  “Oh, my God.” She covered her mouth for a second as if to stop herself from speaking. When she withdrew her hand, she blurted out, “You’re falling in love with him!”

  Love? I snapped my head away from the window and looked right at her. “I… I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Then it’s just a matter of time.” There was confidence in her statement.

  The word “love” reverberated in my mind. How could Trish think something like that? I certainly hadn’t thought that far ahead. Why would she jump to such a conclusion?

  Trish tried to trap me again by asking, “So did you kiss him last night?”

  “Uh. No.”

  “But you wanted to.”

  “Yes, I did. I won’t deny it.” I couldn’t stop a giggle.
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  “Listen. I’m not judging here. He’s hot, and you have hormones like anyone else.” She laughed and shook her head incredulously, “But he didn’t try?”

  “No. For a second, I thought he might and then I got scared or maybe he got scared. I don’t know.”

  “And he was a gentleman, of course.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to.”

  “Huh? Of course, he did.” Trish giggled. “He’s a man. You’re a pretty woman. He wants to have sex with you. You need to talk to Larry about this. Men are very simple creatures.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  “Now, I gotta think this through. Okay. He didn’t kiss you. Why was that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The last time we talked about him I was certain he was on the make, and the first chance he got he’d be all over you because you’re convenient. But now he didn’t do it. Why is that?”

  “Maybe because he’s not the selfish asshole you’ve made him out to be.”

  “Hmph. Maybe you’re right.” Trish tapped her fingers on the chair and looked around as if the answer lay somewhere about the room. “So, either he didn’t want to scare you off, or he’s worried about his divorce and getting caught… or he knows you two still need to work on this amendment together.”

  “Maybe…”

  “Yeah, probably all of the above.” Trish smirked. “Whatever. I can see where this is heading.”

  A loud knock rattled my office door. “Come in.”

  “Excuse me, Congresswoman,” said my receptionist.

  “Good morning, Jenny,” I said.

  “Good morning.” Jenny nodded to Trish. “Hi, Trish.”

  “Morning. What do you need?” Trish asked impatiently.

  “Congressman Grath is here to see you,” Jenny said. “May I bring him in?”

  “Sure,” I replied, my eyes shifting to Trish.

  “Speak of the devil,” Trish muttered under her breath. She rose from her chair and smiled. “I’m sure it’s about work.”

  Michael strode into the room. “Good morning, Jessie. Trish. I hope you don’t mind my dropping by so early.”