by PJ Sharon
“I think it was sometime last winter. I haven’t had a regular one in a long time. I’m a figure skater and I train pretty hard. They say that can cause your period to stop.”
She looked at me, doubtful. I waited for the inevitable questions about my diet. She caught me off guard when she asked, “So you have no idea how far along you are?”
“No, not really.” I looked away, my face burning.
Horrible thoughts raced through my mind. What if it was Tom’s baby? There would be no question about ending its life. I couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world under uglier circumstances. But what if it was Carter’s? As much as we had hurt each other, I still loved him. I thought about him constantly, the image of his crooked smile and blue-green eyes burned indelibly on my brain. The possibility of having some part of him living and growing inside me sent a thrill through my veins, followed by an icy chill that squeezed in my chest. There was no way I could keep this baby.
K. Turner, APRN, weighed me, took my blood pressure, and scribbled notes in my chart. “Your blood tests came back and it looks like you are about ten weeks along. Does that sound about right?” She glanced up at me from her rolling stool and I heard my voice distant in my ears.
“Yeah, that’s about right.” Relief washed over me in a flood and before I could fight them back, tears spilled down my cheeks and onto my lips, hot and salty. I thought back to my first time with Carter. It had been so perfect and beautiful, it was no wonder we had made a baby that night. My heart filled with emotions I couldn’t name.
“Dr. Fitzpatrick will be right in to speak with you, okay?” K. Turner, APRN smiled uncomfortably as I wiped my cheeks, and excused herself, leaving me to change into a paper gown.
The air conditioning chilled the air and I bounced my leg anxiously, unable to sit still on the edge of the exam table. I put my socks back on and paced around the room, holding my paper gown tight around me and studying the pictures on the wall, the instruments on the counter. Glass jars with long swabs, cotton balls and alcohol prep pads lined the wall next to a small sink. Hanging on the wall was a series of pictures of developing fetuses in various stages of development.
I stared for a long time at the strange looking creature that would resemble the ten week old baby growing in my belly. The webbed fingers already losing their tadpole design and stretching into digits and toes; the funny little bumps of ears and nose that were starting to sprout on the giant misshapen head; the translucent skin that showed a spine forming and bones lengthening to form a whole human being. I jumped when the doctor entered.
“Your baby is only about an inch and a half long right now. He or she isn’t much bigger than a kumquat,” she said, noticing what I had been looking at. She stuck her hand out to me. “I’m Dr. Fitzpatrick. Why don’t you let me do the exam and then we’ll talk about what happens next.”
I shook her hand, relieved that it felt warm and sure. I climbed up onto the table and slid down to put my feet in the stirrups, dreading being touched intimately by a stranger. My first pelvic exam should not have had to be because I was pregnant. I thought I had more time to prepare myself, to get used to the idea that it was no big deal. I tried to disappear into my head, but my body betrayed me and kept me present in the moment, feeling the invasion of slick fingers and then the hard instrument that felt like it was tearing me apart. As hard as I tried to relax, every muscle in my body tensed at the intrusion.
“That’s it, Penny. Take slow breaths. It’ll be over in a minute.” I stared at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths, tears streaming into my ears. It wasn’t like it hurt awfully bad, but the sensations felt wrong. Everything with Carter had been about pleasure. When he touched me, I melted into his hands and wanted nothing more than to open myself up to him. Now, all I could think about was closing my legs and squeezing them shut so nothing could ever touch me there again. I heard myself whimper as she removed the instrument. “Go ahead and sit up, Penny.” Her voice was gentle, but nothing could have soothed me at that moment. Even though I couldn’t remember anything about what Tom had done to me, I bet it would have felt something like this, cold, empty and painful. For the first time, I was glad I couldn’t remember.
I shivered and slid my way back up the table sitting and pulling the flimsy paper gown around me tight, my arms wrapped across my middle to keep me from trembling. She left me alone to change.
I dressed as quickly as I could once she left the room, but it only marginally helped dissipate the feeling of vulnerability that hummed under my skin. While I waited, I studied the pictures of a fetus at twelve weeks old and read the information below the images. At eighteen to twenty weeks when the baby’s organs were more developed and he or she looked more like an actual person, though still unbelievably tiny, I could have an ultrasound done and might even find out if it was a boy or a girl baby. My head spun with the images of the growing fetus, transforming over night from shapeless blob to a human being and I wondered when the soul entered into the picture. Did my baby already know who he or she was, and did it have feelings? I was still looking at the pictures on the wall when the doctor returned.
“So, Penny. Have you thought about what you would like to do next?”
I wondered if running away to South America was an option.
Chapter 21
At school the next day, I was bombarded with hugs from friends I’d been in classes with since grade school. I missed Katie already, her parents having decided a private school would be better for her. Sami met me after homeroom and we compared schedules, finding that we had third period study hall and sixth period English together.
I was happy not to have PE this semester, even though I usually loved gym class. I figured with being pregnant, and what I would have to go through with an abortion, I might not feel up to running up and down the gymnasium for a while. I couldn’t even think of how this would affect the skating show which was coming up fast with practices scheduled three afternoons a week. The only thing I knew for sure was that I had no choice. With mom hanging on by a thread and Carter out of the picture, there was no way I could have a baby, no matter how I felt about it.
I’d told Sami the news about my decision and made her promise not to tell Katie. I hated keeping her out of the loop, but I couldn’t take those soulful blue eyes looking at me like I was a monster. Facing myself in the mirror was hard enough. I wanted to be angry with Carter, but this was clearly all my fault. I was the one who got involved in a relationship I was totally unprepared for, and I had ignored the responsibility I had taken on when I told Carter I would take the day after pill and then didn’t follow through. Whatever happened next, it was all on me.
I sat through US Government and an hour later walked out of Latin III class headed for the main office. I had been summoned. My heart pounded as I sat outside my guidance counselor’s office. What now, for God’s sake? I chewed my cuticle, bouncing my knee like a jonesing crack addict.
“Penny, come on in.” Mr. Barstow had been my guidance counselor for the last three years. He’d seen me through most of my mother’s cancer. I dragged myself into his office and dropped into the plush Bark lounger in the corner, folding one foot underneath me.
“How was your summer?” He sat on the edge of his desk, his long legs stretched out, one loafered foot crossed over the other.
The word fine rose habitually from that place in my head that lied without thinking, but I’d started catching myself. What could I say that wouldn’t be a lie? I ran my hand through my hair, brushing my bangs back out of my eyes. “Um...eventful about sums it up.”
“I heard you missed a few days of school. Is everything okay at home?” Mr. Barstow knew me well. He studied me for a moment, and then loosened his tie and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for my answer.
I let out a slow breath, wondering how much to tell him. I knew by now, that anything I told him would be kept in confidence, and he’d given me plenty of good advice over the last few years. More tha
n that, he’d listened to all of my whining and never passed judgment. “My mom is pretty close to the end. She’s got a few weeks at most.”
“I’m sorry, Penny. I know how hard this must be for you and your family.” Kind brown eyes stared down at me. “Do you need anything?” I found myself wishing—not for the first time—that this man was my dad. My father had barely spoken to me since that horrible day that he’d caught me in bed with Carter. I’d somehow betrayed him and I didn’t know how to fix it.
I shook my head and swallowed hard, the muscles in my throat straining to hold back tears—to say what I had to say next. “There’s nothing anyone can do, but...that’s not all. I’m...pregnant.” Before he could respond or I chickened out, I blurted, “I know I can’t have a baby. It would just kill my mom. And it would ruin my future. I’d have to quit skating. I’d never make it to college. My dad would hate me...”
“Slow down, Penny.” Mr. Barstow pulled up a chair and sat down in front of me. “No one is going to hate you.” He reached over to his desk and handed me a box of Kleenex.
“My tears seem to be an uncontrollable force these days,” I sniffled, wiping my nose with a clump of tissues.
“That’s pretty normal. My wife cried daily through the first trimester of her pregnancy. How far along are you?”
“Ten weeks.” I looked him in the eye, desperation welling in my chest, my breath coming in short gasps. “What am I going to do?”
“I can’t tell you what to do, Penny. I will tell you that you need to think very carefully before you make a decision that you can’t undo.”
“I don’t have much time before it’ll be too late to...stop it.” I took a deep breath, and let my head fall forward into my hands. “I have to do this.”
He sat back in his chair and stared at his hands for a moment. “Does the father know?”
“I can’t tell him.”
“Don’t you think he has a right to know?”
My teeth clenched at the sound of his fatherly tone. “It’s complicated.” I tossed the damp tissues into the basket a few feet away and pulled two more from the box in my lap.
“Life usually is. Lay it on me. Talk it through. What’s the worst that can happen?” He crossed his ankle over his knee, and folded his hands over a slightly paunchy mid- section.
“He’s older—only twenty-one,” I added, seeing his eyes widen in panic like I was about to tell him I’d had an affair with a middle-aged man or something. I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes. “My dad caught us together and threatened to have him arrested.”
“I see. I can’t say I’d have reacted any differently if it was my daughter.” A smile of sympathy crossed his face. “I’m sure he was only worried about you.”
“Carter broke up with me after that. He didn’t know I was seventeen. I lied to him.” Ashamed, I looked away.
“Hey, we all make mistakes, Penny.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Some of us spread them out a little more than others.” His good humored grin brought a little smile to my face. “Do you love this guy?”
“Yeah, I do.” Talking about Carter brought warmth into my heart that I hadn’t felt in a while. I had determined weeks ago that there was no way to un-love someone once they were in your heart.
“Does he love you too?”
If the question was ‘does he still love you’, I couldn’t have answered. Neither of us had said the words, but I knew without a doubt that Carter had loved me, at least for a little while. “Yeah, I think he loved me.”
“Then you owe it to him and to yourself to find out if he still does.”
I glanced at the clock confirming that third period was nearly over. I shook my head, “I don’t want him to think I’m trying to trap him into something. He’s moved on. He has another girlfriend.” A hard lump formed in my throat. An image of Cindy Moran—with her raccoon eyes and Miss Piggy nose—standing in Carter’s bedroom doorway flashed into my head, bringing up bile that I forced back down. “It’s better if I don’t tell him. I don’t want to cause him any trouble. Besides, nothing he could say will change what I need to do. I can’t put all of the people I care about through this.”
The bell rang. My tears had stopped and a detached numbness took over. I’d made my decision. Now I had to follow through with it.
Chapter 22
While trying to figure out my calculus problems, I sat gnawing on the end of my pencil, staring at equations that might as well have been written in Japanese. Homework was the least of my problems, but if I couldn’t find a cure for cancer or run away and join the circus, the least I could do was get good grades. I buckled down and focused on the problem at hand. It took twenty minutes, but I got through one equation and started the next when a knock on the door interrupted my train of thought.
“Come in.”
Marie entered carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of left over stroganoff, a glass of milk, and two chocolate chip cookies. “I thought you could use a break. You missed dinner.”
She set the tray down on the wall length countertop and pulled out the chair that was tucked under the other end. Dad had built the eight foot long desk back when Rachael and Marie were in grade school and shared the room. There were essentially two desk spaces in one. My computer set up occupied the space in front of Marie, while my homework and books lay strewn about the countertop in front of me. The shelves above were lined with skating trophies and medals mounted on red velvet frames that Dad had made for me—his only acknowledgement of my successes.
“Thanks, I’m not really hungry.” I dropped the pencil and scrubbed my hands over my face.
“You look hungry. You should eat.” She slid the tray closer and gave me that look that only nuns and Iraqi interrogators know how to give.
I pulled the bowl in front of me and slurped a spoonful of creamy sauce. My stomach gave a wave of acceptance and I took another bite, this time including an egg noodle.
“This has been hard on you, hasn’t it?” Marie was only twenty-five, but she wore the face of someone who had seen a great deal of pain and suffering on her travels, a world weary wisdom that aged her pretty brown eyes.
“It’s been hard on everyone.” I chewed a small piece of beef, my jaw tiring before I finally swallowed.
“You look so tired, Penny. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, really.” I smiled weakly, half expecting to be struck down for lying to a nun. The truth was, I was exhausted, depressed, nauseous, and my swelling boobs hurt like hell. I smiled harder.
“I’m planning to stay until Mom passes. I’ve asked for leave from my station.” She set the glass of milk in front of me, giving me another look, this one a little more sympathetic, more like the look Mom would give before reminding me of the starving children in Africa.
“It shouldn’t be long now,” I said. I took another bite of stew, my stomach grumbling at the assault. I drank a gulp of milk and swallowed hard, the creamy texture coating my raw throat. Morning sickness made me wish I could take back all of the times I had forced myself to puke. It seemed so stupid now. Who in their right mind would heave their guts out voluntarily? But that wasn’t the only question I needed to find an answer to.
“Penny, do you believe in God?” Marie asked, eyeing me through long dark lashes. Her hair was down for a change, resting in chestnut waves to her shoulders. I remembered her being quiet and shy as a girl, following Dad around like his shadow and finding a steady place there that I could never hope to duplicate.
Her question caught me off guard. “Of course I do.” I set the spoon down and faced her, not certain if I should take the challenge. “I’m not sure I believe everything the church teaches about God, but I believe there is some power out in the universe that is greater than we are. There would have to be, right? I mean look at the natural order of things: the cycles of life, the seasons, the beauty in nature. I mean, you’d have to be crazy not to believe in God when you look at a giraffe or a porcupine or a butterfly. They’re amazing
and perfectly constructed for their environment. And look at the complexity of the human body. It all can’t be some random accident.” Pictures of developing fetuses popped into my head.
Marie nodded agreement and smiled. “Then you know that God has a purpose and a plan for all of us, don’t you?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “I hope you’re right. Otherwise, learning calculus would be a waste of time.”
My sister laughed and picked up a cookie. She took a bite and looked at me thoughtfully. “You know Mom will go to heaven, don’t you?”
“I guess,” I said slowly, picturing Mom with wings, all dressed in white and looking like her old self, with long flowing hair and rosy cheeks. The whole idea of heaven was a mystery I hadn’t given much thought since I wasn’t real clear on what qualified any of us to get in. “I wonder what it feels like to die,” I said softly, my thoughts drifting toward the grimness of the situation.
My sister rested her hand over mine. “I won’t lie to you, Penny. Death is not pretty. It isn’t easy and it usually isn’t pain free. I have noticed though, that there is a peace in it, like right before they go, people have a moment of clarity where they know that everything is going to be okay.” She sat back in her chair, a resolute look coming over her face. “We’re going to make this as easy as we can for Mom, I promise.”
Her confidence made me feel a little better in spite of my wariness of promises. “Do you think...do you believe in angels?” I asked.
“I do. I’ve felt their presence more than once.” She played with the beads on the wooden rosary that hung around her neck. “I think they’re close by when someone is near death. I’m sure there is one waiting to help Mom cross over.”
My hands went to my belly instinctively. “What about babies? Do you think the ones who aren’t allowed to be born have angels that will lead them to heaven?”
Marie’s eyes narrowed at me and then her face relaxed. She sighed. “I especially believe that. Innocent children are closest to God’s heart. He protects their souls because they aren’t able to protect their own. Once you come of a certain age of understanding, you can choose to follow his way or not, and then you are subject to the natural consequences of your actions. But children are innocent. It’s up to adults to protect them.”