by T. R. Hamby
She rolled her eyes, a ghost of her normal self returning. “Yes. I took three tests.”
“Okay,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. He was still holding her, feeling her breathe beneath his arm. “What do you want to do?”
She looked at him desperately, tears still in her eyes. “I can’t have a baby, Mel,” she moaned. “I don’t want a baby. I can’t afford one. I can’t even afford an abortion…”
And she sobbed again, holding her face in her hands. “And I can’t ask my sister for money, even if I lied, and I can’t tell the father, because he’ll freak out...I can’t even tell Bezi, because she’s his cousin, and I know she’ll freak out too. That’s why I came here...I just lost it...and I knew she would needle it out of me as soon as she got home. I just--I didn’t know where else to go…I’m so sorry…”
“You’re not breathing,” Mel said, and again she looked at the fireplace, taking deep breaths and wiping at her eyes.
“Just breathe,” he continued gently. “I’m right here.”
And for a while they were quiet, Nora calming herself down, Mel rubbing her back soothingly.
Finally, when she seemed calm enough, he asked, “Do you want an abortion?”
She continued staring at the fireplace for a moment. Then she looked at him and nodded, ashamed.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Give me a minute.”
He got up, grabbing the throw blanket and wrapping it around her. Then he went out onto the balcony, taking out his phone and calling an old friend--Marietta, a doctor.
This wasn’t the first time he had been in a situation like this, and ten years ago Marietta had helped him out. Before that he had given her some money so she could open her own practice, so favors were easy to ask from her.
After he got off the phone he stood at the door, looking in. Nora had lied down, wrapped in the blanket and staring dully at the TV.
He felt a little pang, a little flash of anger. It had been the same the last time this happened, with another lover of his. The baby hadn’t been his, either--he couldn’t get humans pregnant; they were like two different species. But he was there for the fear, the desperation--the shame. And it angered him to know how they suffered.
He closed the door behind him and returned to the couch. Nora sat up anxiously, and he sat beside her.
“I have a friend who’s a doctor,” he said. “She’ll be here tomorrow. She’ll take care of it.”
Nora’s eyes filled with tears again. “God, Mel--this is fucked up. I’m so sorry. I’ll pay you back--”
“Just relax, Nora,” he said soothingly. “You need to rest.”
“Or what? I’ll hurt the baby?” she scoffed, and he smiled.
“Vodka or bourbon?” he asked, standing up.
She thought for a moment, before replying in a small voice, “Vodka.”
He went to the kitchen and made some drinks, coming back with two glasses. He handed one to her, and then sat back down, leaning back against the couch.
Nora leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “What is it? Vodka and orange juice?”
“Yes. I got the vodka from St. Petersburg.”
“Does that make it better?”
He shrugged, and she chuckled a little.
She was quiet a moment, sipping her drink, before whispering, “How are you?”
He smiled a little, relieved that she was thinking of something else. “I’m fine.”
She studied him. “Just fine?”
He played with a strand of her hair, thoughtful. “I’ve been having memories,” he said, perhaps stupidly. “Dark memories. I can’t seem to get away from them lately.”
“About her?”
Before he could respond she suddenly said, “Fuck--I’m sorry. God--pretend I didn’t ask that. That was way too intrusive.”
And she gulped her drink, shaking her head.
Mel couldn’t help but smile, and he placed a kiss on her head. “It’s okay, Angela.”
She turned to study him, her brown eyes almost piercing, and finally she asked, a little shyly, “What was she like?”
He felt a pang, but it was dull. He smiled again, thinking of her. “She was very smart. Inventive. She made things. And she was so curious--constantly questioning everything. She loved to laugh. She was always doing that. She was so...alive.”
Nora had a small smile on her face, watching him. “You really loved her.”
“More than anything,” he replied, finishing off his drink.
She traced her finger along the rim of her glass. “My parents loved each other that way,” she said softly. “My dad was in his thirties--still working on his career--and my mom was really young, only twenty-one, studying abroad.”
A shadow crossed her face, and her brow furrowed. “They loved each other very much. But she was so young...and then she got pregnant with my sister. She went back to California--almost dropped out of school. My dad went with her, and they got married...he worked, and she stayed home with Izzie. And she hated it. She loved us, but she had no life, no friends...she was constantly taking care of us, and at such a young age…”
She shook her head, looking at him. She had tears in her eyes again. “I don’t want that. I can’t do it.”
“You won’t have to,” Mel murmured. “And you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
She shrugged miserably. “You should think I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he replied firmly. “It was a mistake. Everyone makes them. I’m just glad you could come to me.”
She looked skeptical, and he rolled his eyes at her. This made her giggle. She brushed at her eyes, and her ring sparkled on her finger.
Mel smiled. “Still wearing your ring?” he asked gently.
She looked at it and nodded. “Of course. What, did you think I was going to chuck it in the trash?”
He chuckled. “Maybe.”
She made a face at him, and he laughed. Then she laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her.
“Thank you, Mel,” she whispered. “You are the dearest of friends.”
Nora
They spent the rest of the evening watching TV. Nora was drained from all of the emotion, and lied on the couch without speaking, her head in Mel’s lap.
Mel was wonderful--more than she had expected, somehow. He rubbed her back and brushed at her hair soothingly while they stared at the television. He wisely ordered Chinese takeout, something irresistible and filling, and Nora ate two servings. Then, though it was clear he wasn’t tired, he went to bed with her. She began to cry again, and he held her until her tears subsided and she fell asleep. Her ring sparkled on her hand, and she felt...she wasn’t sure. Loved. Safe and cared for. She had been on her own--for the most part--since her father died, so this feeling was a strange one.
When morning came, for a moment, she couldn’t remember why she felt so miserable. Then it came back to her, and a horrible chill went down her spine. Tears welled in her eyes again--she had been so emotional lately, and now she knew why. She cursed herself for being so thoughtless, for not insisting on using condoms, for forgetting to take her stupid pill…
Her phone buzzed, and she moaned. She could tell Mel wasn’t in the room; she could hear noises coming from the kitchen.
She lied there, depressed and miserable, until her phone buzzed again.
Now she swore and swiped it from the nightstand: Izzie.
“For god’s sake, Izzie, not now,” she murmured under her breath. She had been avoiding her calls for a couple weeks now, fed up with her holier-than-thou attitude, and her borderline pathological need to put Nora down.
Nora honestly wasn’t sure why she spoke to Izzie anymore anyway--maybe because she was her sister, and her only surviving family member. They had grown up together, played dress-up together, celebrated Christmases with Mom and Dad. That big sister Nora had known must still be in there somewhere.
Or maybe she wasn’t,
and Nora was just being an idiot.
She reluctantly took the call. “Hey. Everything okay? Isn’t it, like, midnight there?”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to call you since six!” Izzie replied impatiently.
“Why? Are the boys okay?”
“They’re fine. Are you okay?” she replied firmly.
Nora felt a chill, and she sat up dizzily. “What do you mean?” She couldn’t know, could she? How?
“Huh,” Izzie said flatly, tutting. “I would have thought you’d be on your deathbed or something, since you’ve been ignoring me for two weeks.”
She felt a surge of guilt, although her sister’s tone wasn’t making her feel any warmer towards her. “Look, Iz, I’m sorry--I’ve just been caught up with rehearsal...and I’ve been a little under the weather--”
“Really?” Nora felt instant regret as Izzie’s voice brightened. “What are your symptoms?”
“Iz.”
“I’m just asking. You know I know these things, being a mom.”
“Look, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”
There was a long pause. Nora was just wondering if it was time to hang up when Izzie screeched, “Are you pregnant?”
She jumped. Izzie’s voice became rapid, and Nora rested her head in her hand. There wasn’t any point denying it now; even if she wasn’t pregnant Izzie would still believe it. She heard the feverishness in her sister’s voice, the triumph, the smugness, and she felt sick.
“...you can live with us,” she was chattering, “there’s the extra room in the basement. You won’t have to work; you can take care of the baby and watch the boys. And--”
“I’m not moving back, Izzie,” Nora replied, positively horrified. “I’m not doing any of that. I’m staying here.”
She could hear Izzie snort on the other end. “You can’t afford to have a baby there,” she scoffed. “You can barely afford to feed yourself there.”
Nora stiffened. She felt a rage, a sudden, horrible rage. Her face flushed and her hands shook, and her heart pounded in her chest.
“First of all, Izzie, I can afford to feed myself,” she growled. “Contrary to what you might believe, my career is going well, and I’m being paid actual money. And second, I am not moving back to California. I will never move back to California. And,” she added, going in with the final blow, “I’m getting an abortion. Do you get it? I will never, ever have a baby. If I could claw my own fucking uterus out I would. So don’t make any plans to rearrange the basement, because I’m not fucking coming.”
And she ended the call.
She began to cry, hugging her legs and resting her head on her knees. God, Izzie. What happened to when they were friends, when they would tell each other anything? There had been a time when there was no nastiness, no competition. Their mother had died when they were children, and Izzie had been so brave, so caring. And then Dad had died, and they had leaned on each other so heavily.
Then Nora got sick, had to live with Izzie and her husband for a while. Izzie had been stringent, insistent on counting Nora’s pills, watching her take them, when there was no need to. It had taken months for Nora to crawl out of that stupid basement bedroom, go to auditions, make friends again, make money. To be normal again.
She heard a knock at the door, and brushed at her eyes. “Hey.”
Mel came in, looking worried. He was wearing a cream-colored knit sweater and jeans, his hair only the slightest bit tousled.
“I’m getting up,” Nora said quickly, swinging her legs out of bed.
“Was that your sister?” he asked gently, helping her stand. His brow was furrowed, concerned. She had mentioned Izzie before.
She took deep breaths; she didn’t want to start crying in front of him again. Before she could reply he drew her close, wrapping gentle arms around her. She shivered, overwhelmed by his warmth, and buried her face in his chest. His heart hummed beneath her ear, faster than she had ever heard a human’s beat.
“When?” she whispered, and he squeezed her.
“About an hour. You should eat; I made prima colazione.”
She chuckled. “Okay.”
“I’m here, you know.”
All she could do was look at him and nod; she was too nervous to manage anything else.
Suddenly she jumped. “Shit. My medication,” she breathed, looking around at him. “I didn’t bring it with me.”
“When do you need it?” he asked calmly.
She blushed. “There’s no rush...anytime today…”
“I’ll go out when Marietta gets here,” he said, and Nora assumed this was the doctor.
“I’d rather go,” she said. “If you could just drive me…”
“You might not feel up to it,” Mel replied patiently.
She sighed. It was five minutes into the day, and she was already exhausted.
“Well...can you get it without looking at the labels?” she asked meekly.
He nodded instantly. “How many bottles?”
“Just three. They’re behind the mirror on the left side of the bathroom counter.”
“Got it. What do I tell Bezi?”
“I already texted her last night...told her I’m sleeping over. She shouldn’t be in anyway; she hates staying cooped up in there.”
He was studying her again. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked, in such a nice shirt, his hair ruffled and his necklace hanging past his collar. It was no wonder so many women liked him.
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here.”
His words were soothing, and she nodded, taking a deep breath.
For the next hour Mel chatted her ear off, coaxing her to eat and telling a story about a ridiculous client who kept hounding him for extravagant jewelry. Nora knew he was trying to distract her, and for the most part it worked. She couldn’t help but laugh at his story, and she ate about a quarter of her food.
It was only when a knock came at the door that she became timid again.
Mel gave her a reassuring look and got up to let his friend in. She was older, Italian, and very beautiful.
She caught Nora’s eye as she followed Mel into the kitchen, and smiled. “Ciao.”
“Ciao,” Nora said weakly. “Come stai?”
“Better than you’re feeling, I’m sure,” she said kindly.
Mel held out a chair for her, and she sat down, studying Nora with sharp green eyes.
“I am Dr. Marietta Regio. Now I don’t want to draw this out, but I do have to ask you questions about your health,” she said, still in that kind sort of way.
Nora felt a little better. It was refreshing talking to a doctor in a friendly tone, not in the cold, clinical way she had experienced before. She had talked to a lot of doctors in her time, and she still hated it now. Dr. Regio was definitely a first.
Mel gave them space, cleaning up the kitchen while they talked. Nora told Dr. Regio her history, and whispered the names of her medications. Dr. Regio nodded, then removed a cuff from her bag, and took her blood pressure and pulse.
“How long since your last period?”
“Four weeks ago. I was supposed to have one around Thursday,” Nora murmured. “I took three tests, and they’re all positive.”
“Mmm. So you’re clearly not far along,” she said, almost to herself.
She nodded, again to herself, and opened her bag, withdrawing two little packets from the pocket. She gave them to Nora, who found they were little pill packets, one blue and one white.
Dr. Regio pointed to the blue packet. “Take this today,” she said, “and the white one tomorrow. The blue one is going to terminate the pregnancy, and the white is going to induce contractions--so everything can come out, essentially.”
“Blue today, white tomorrow,” Mel said, materializing at Nora’s side.
Nora took a deep breath, nodding.
“Now you can have nausea, vomiting...weakness, dizziness,” Dr. Regio listed off the side effects. �
�The white pill will cause cramping and bleeding, of course. Be careful that you’re not bleeding excessively.”
Nora already felt dizzy. Don’t be a baby, she told herself, and she began to tear open the blue packet.
Mel went to the kitchen, and came back with a glass of water. Nora took it, popped the pill in her mouth, and downed half the glass.
She let out a breath. She had done it. Now all there was to do was wait.
Dr. Regio gave her a reassuring smile. “It has a 98% success rate,” she said soothingly. “You’ll be fine.”
She got to her feet and looked at Mel. “If you have any concerns, you have my number.”
“Remind me to take you out to lunch, Marietta,” Mel said, leading her to the door.
Nora sat still, wondering if she should feel guilty. Her father had been Catholic, and may not have approved. But he would have wanted her to be happy, she remembered. He had always been so encouraging, firm that she take her own path. He had never considered her dreams silly, or a hindrance to her biological clock or her love life, like Izzie did.
Nora missed him so much.
Unfortunately the pill wasn’t kind to her, and she ended up lying curled on the bathroom floor, pressing her brow on the cool tile, her stomach absolutely roiling. Mel tried insisting she lie in bed, but she knew she couldn’t make it to the bathroom in time, and she didn’t want to use a trash can.
Later she wondered something. Mel had let himself in, bringing her a glass of ginger ale. He had just come back from her apartment earlier with her medications, and she was trying to keep them down.
She frowned at him. “Mel,” she murmured weakly. “Is there only one bathroom here?”
“No,” he said, handing her the ginger ale. “Why?”
“I was afraid you might have to go,” she said, slowly sitting up and taking a sip.
“Oh,” he said, and he chuckled. “How considerate of you.”
She rolled her eyes, managing a smile. “Don’t tell me Angels don’t use the bathroom.”
This time he gave a little laugh. “I prefer not to say. Don’t forget to drink the water, too. Soda isn’t going to hydrate you properly.”
“What are you doing out there?” she asked, easing back down onto her pillow. “I hear you talking.”