What They Don’t Know

by Nicole Maggi

  “Look, I think Delia’s being an idiot,” she said. “I miss hanging out.”

  Suddenly, Susanna was a sunflower growing in a field of snow. “I miss hanging out too,” I admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know what I did to get Delia so mad at me.”

  “Personally, I think she’s jealous about Hannah and Brandon’s wedding. The world isn’t currently revolving around her, and she hates that.”

  I forced a laugh even though my insides were churning.

  We had reached the hallway. Susanna squeezed my arm before she let go. “Call me if you want to hang out—you know, without Delia. Or if you need to talk. I bet your house isn’t too fun between your dad’s campaign and the wedding. I can tell it’s stressing you out.”

  I stared at her. “You can?”

  “Well, sure.” She leaned toward me. “No offense, but you’ve got bags under your eyes. And I bet Delia freezing you out isn’t helping matters.”

  “No. No, it’s not.” Before I could think the better of it, I said, “Actually, can I ask you a favor? You’d be helping me out.”

  Susanna raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “I need a few hours this afternoon…to…um…do some secret bridal shower stuff. Not even my mom knows about it because it’s sort of a surprise for her too…so I don’t want them to know what I’m up to, but I don’t—”

  “You need me to cover for you?” She grinned. “Sure. No problem.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, we’ll say you’re hanging out at my house. Do you need me to drop you somewhere?” Susanna was the only girl in my old circle who had her own car. Probably because she was an only child.

  I couldn’t believe my luck. “Would you drop me at Mountainside Plaza?” There were always cabs waiting there to drive shoppers home. I gave Susanna a tight, quick hug. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

  She had no idea.

  I didn’t even have to lie to Bethany when I told her I was hanging out with Susanna after school. I waved to her from Susanna’s car as we drove away from the school. Susanna was cheery and funny the whole ride to Mountainside. When we pulled into the parking lot, she put the car into park and twisted in her seat toward me. “Are you okay, Mellie?”

  I swept my gaze across the line of stores. A few cabs were idling by the curb. Now that we were here, my stomach tightened. “I’m fine,” I said. I think my voice shook. “Why?”

  “You just seem—”

  “I know, I know. I’m stressed.”

  “No.” Something in her voice made me catch her eye in the rearview mirror. “It’s more than stress. It’s…sadness.”

  She saw it. She saw me. She saw what Lise had seen, what Delia was too self-centered to notice. I took a deep breath. I wanted to tell her and ask her to drive me to Pinecrest, hold my hand while this anonymous guy gave me an abortion. I searched her face, the words hanging on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out…

  Something glinted in the corner of my eye.

  Dangling from her rearview mirror was a burnished gold crucifix with JESUS IS THE WAY etched across the bottom below his nailed feet. It had been there the whole drive, of course, but I hadn’t noticed until the sun had caught it just right. Reminding me. Warning me. Susanna had helped me, but she wasn’t safe. I couldn’t trust her. Not with this.

  I cleared my throat. “You’re so sweet for worrying about me,” I said in a voice that sounded like my mother’s. “I’m fine. It’s been a bit of a rough time, that’s all.” I didn’t wait for her reaction. I opened the car door and slid out. “Thanks for the ride!”

  Susanna waved and backed out of the parking spot. I watched until she had turned back onto the main road and was out of sight before I walked over to the row of cabs. The first one wouldn’t take me to Pinecrest. The second one quoted me a fare that seemed outrageous. The third cabbie was a woman. “Sure, honey, hop in.”

  I wondered if I told this woman why I was going to this particular address, would she wait for me, make sure I got home okay? Would this stranger take care of me?

  But she didn’t ask why I was going to Pinecrest, and I didn’t offer a reason.

  When we finally got there, the sun had dropped low, the light stretching pink and orange across the snow-tipped mountains. The cabbie rolled to a stop next to a bent metal sign that read PINECREST MOBILE PARK. The o in Mobile had been shot out and was now a ring of bullet holes.

  The cabbie peered out her front window. “Um…”

  “It’s okay,” I said, forcing brightness into my tone. “My cousin lives here. I visit all the time.”

  She shrugged, still skeptical, but I gave her a pretty nice tip and she didn’t say anything else. I marched away from the cab like I knew exactly where I was going, and heard the tires crunch as she drove away. I dug out the paper with the address from my pocket. Unit E-32. I’d assumed that was an apartment number, or an office suite, not a lot in a trailer park. My insides twisted up tight. But then I thought about Alanna calling my parents. I thought about my parents finding out about the baby, about the abortion…the abortion they would surely put a stop to if they found out forty-eight hours ahead of time. Maybe they would lock me in the house until I went into labor.

  I put one foot in front of the other, until I came to row E. The park was quiet in the lengthening shadows. I thought I saw a couple of people peek out their windows at me, but they disappeared as soon as I caught sight of them. The air smelled weird, like a mix of cooking and something else I couldn’t quite place. Something that smelled like…chemistry class? When I got to lot E-32, I headed toward the trailer. Before I even got to the door, it opened.

  “Come on, get in,” a voice whispered at me.

  The light inside was dim. All the curtains in the trailer were drawn shut so that there was no natural light. When the guy stepped back from the door, it was the first time I saw his face. He was thin and wiry with a thick beard that I think was less intentional than just a laziness about shaving.

  “Do you have the money?”

  I nodded and dug it out of my backpack. He took it from me before I held it out and counted it. “Good.” He pointed to a door at the back of the trailer. “Take everything off from the waist down and lie on the bed.”

  “O-okay.”

  But I couldn’t get myself to move. My limbs had gone cold. My heart, my brain, every organ in my body shouted This Is Not Okay. I thought about the comfort and cleanliness of Alanna’s clinic. But she will tell your parents, I reminded myself. I forced my legs to move and my heart pounded louder with every step I took toward the bedroom.

  Someone banged on the trailer door. I shrank against the wall as the guy pulled it open. “Not now,” he growled.

  “Hey man, I got money this time.”

  “I said, not now, I’m busy.”

  “But I need it—”

  “Come back later.” The guy slammed the door. Whoever was outside tapped on the door again, but the guy shook his head. “Douchebag,” he muttered and headed toward me.

  I ducked into the bedroom. On the wall over the bed was a framed diploma from the University of Minnesota Medical School. It was for Kyle Jameson, which I assumed was this guy’s name. I felt him come into the room behind me and turned. “You went to medical school?”

  “Of course I went to medical school. I’m a fucking doctor.”

  “Oh…I just…I didn’t know. You’re a licensed doctor?”

  “Yes,” he said, going to a table in the corner where I saw various medical tools laid out. They seemed clean enough, even if the rest of the room didn’t look sterile like Alanna’s clinic. I stood in front of the bed with my hands clawed around the waistband of my pants. “Are you gonna stand there or do you want to get this over with?” Kyle asked over his shoulder.

  Yes, I wanted to get it over with. But everything about this screamed WRON
G. But if I was going to keep this a secret, I didn’t see another choice. I couldn’t do it the right way. After all, women had done worse in the days before Roe v. Wade, hadn’t they? I slid off my pants. They pooled on the floor at my feet.

  Kyle faced me, holding an instrument shaped like a hook. “I don’t have all day. Take off your underwear and lie back on the bed. Spread your legs like a butterfly.”

  My whole body froze, my breath shallow, in and out, in and out. Spread your fucking legs. HE had said that. In the basement.

  Kyle stared at me. “Do you want to do this or not?”

  A slant of dying sunlight through the drawn curtains gleamed off the silver hook in his hand. “I—”

  “You won’t get your money back.”

  “I know, I just—”

  Someone pounded on the door again. The whole trailer shook. “Jesus Christ,” Kyle muttered. “I said, come back later,” he yelled. There was silence for a second, and then—

  “MELLIE!”

  I started, my body coming unfrozen.

  “MELLIE!”

  “What the fuck?” Kyle pointed the hook at me. “I told you to come alone.”

  “I did!”

  “MELLIE! LET ME IN!”

  “Then who the fuck is that?”

  “She—” She came to rescue me.

  There was more banging on the door. “Goddammit.” Kyle strode out of the bedroom, the hooked tool still in his hand. I jerked on my pants before following him. The chemical smell was stronger now, burning the inside of my nostrils. Kyle wrenched open the door.

  Standing there, like a lantern against the darkness, was Lise. She was breathing hard, her fist raised high to bang on the door again. She looked past Kyle and saw me, barefoot in the middle of Kyle’s trailer. I couldn’t meet her eyes. “Mellie, please don’t do this.”

  “I don’t have a choice,” I whispered.

  She took a step inside the trailer. “I know it feels like that,” she said. The tenderness in her voice made me want to cry. I didn’t deserve it, not after how I ran out on her and her mom. “But this isn’t the right way to do it. It’s not safe.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Kyle blocked Lise from getting any deeper into the trailer.

  “I’m her friend, and I’m taking her home,” Lise said. I couldn’t believe how calm she was. “I can see the rust on your scalpel from here. How many women have you used that on? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m helping women who need it,” Kyle shot back at her. “It’s not my fault this country has some backward-ass abortion laws.”

  “You’re right,” Lise agreed. “But you could help to change those laws, instead of taking advantage of women in a vulnerable situation. You’re despicable.”

  Kyle pointed the hook at her again, first at Lise and then at me. “You’re not getting your money back, you know.”

  “Actually, she is, or I’m reporting you to the police.”

  Kyle swung the hook back at Lise, inches from her face, but his eyes flitted toward the bedroom. Oh, God. Did he have a gun in there?

  Lise eased away from the hook and reached out to me. “I have a car waiting at the entrance,” she said, looking at Kyle. “I told the driver that if I’m not back in fifteen minutes to call the police.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve got about six minutes, and it’ll take us nearly that long to walk back. So by all means, let’s fight more about the money.”

  “Fine,” Kyle said through gritted teeth, jerking his head at the kitchen table where he’d left my money. I grabbed it, my coat, and my bag. As we moved to the door, Kyle punched the wall. “You two are real bitches, you know that?”

  Lise laughed. She actually laughed. I was shaking with fear, but she laughed. “That’s right. We’re nasty women, and don’t you forget it,” she said, and pulled me outside.

  Darkness stretched wide over us. There were no streetlights, only shadows and distant starlight. Still holding my hand, Lise led me through the maze of mobile homes, their doors and windows shut tight against us. The chemical stench still hung in the air.

  “God, what is that smell?” I said as we hurried.

  “Meth,” Lise said. “This town is full of meth labs. That guy—he was a dealer.”

  I shuddered, clutching Lise’s hand harder. This was why my mother wouldn’t take any of us to Pinecrest. “Come on,” Lise said and we took off running, our footsteps pounding as hard and fast as my heart.

  The big black SUV sat waiting for us. Lise opened the door and pushed me inside. Daphne twisted in the driver’s seat. “Are you okay?”

  “She hadn’t done it yet.”

  “Thank God.” She put the car in drive and peeled onto the road. I watched the dim lights of the mobile park grow fainter until it was a shadow.

  And then everything that had been twisted up inside me unwound. I tipped sideways in my seat and curled into a fetal position, my whole body trembling. Lise gently eased my head onto her lap and stroked my hair. “It’s gonna be okay,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

  Not once did she tell me how stupid I’d been. Not once did she go through any of the what-ifs that could have happened. She didn’t even tell me how she knew where I was.

  She just stroked my hair.

  I will never not trust her ever again.

  Signed,

  Mellie Rivers

  March 21

  Dear Ms. Tilson—

  How could Mellie be so stupid?! Doesn’t she know what could’ve happened? She could’ve DIED. It might sound dramatic, but it is true. Do you know how many women died before Roe v. Wade? Countless. Literally. We can’t count them because their deaths were usually recorded as something vague, like sepsis or an infection. I can’t even tell you how many women my mother sees who tried to do what Mellie was going to do, but the procedure got botched and Mom has to fix them. Nowadays it’s usually with pills they ordered online from Mexico or something they pulled out of their medicine cabinet. Once, my mom said a woman called the clinic because she was too far away to get there, or to any clinic, and she said, “Here’s what I have in my house…why don’t you just tell me what I can use to get rid of it?” That night was one of the only times my mother came home from work and cried.

  That’s what some people don’t understand. The country can make abortions illegal or harder to get, but it won’t stop women from getting them. Abortions will only get more dangerous and more women will die. One of those women could’ve been Mellie.

  I wanted to shake her and tell her what an idiot she was…but I couldn’t. Because I get it. She thought it was her only way out. And I get that it’s the only way for her to get both things she wants: an abortion and for her parents to never know. Because she can’t do both legally. Not in this state, anyway.

  God, you should’ve seen her. Crumpled in my lap on the car ride home. I couldn’t tell her how stupid she was, not while she was crying like that. I could feel her heart breaking, right there in my lap. I thought getting her out of that horrible place would be enough, but it wasn’t. It won’t be. There’s still a huge black cloud of a problem that I can’t fix.

  About ten miles outside of Wolverton, Mellie wiped her cheeks, sniffled, and sat up. “How did you know?”

  “How did I know what?”

  “Where I was. What I was doing.”

  “I figured out you were trying to get rid of it on your own after you took all those pills the other day.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Mellie. I volunteer at the clinic. I hear a lot.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I should’ve known it wouldn’t fool you. But still. How did you find me in Pinecrest?”

  I cleared my throat and dug into the seat pouch in front of me for the bottle of water Daphne always kee
ps stocked there. Mellie watched me take a long drink with her eyebrows raised. When I put the bottle down and I still hadn’t answered, she said, “Lise.”

  “Okay, fine. I did a little digging.”

  “You stalked me again.”

  “I didn’t stalk—I went online and figured you’d go to the first website that popped up. I called the guy and pretended I needed an abortion too, so I got the address. And then…” I trailed off because it really did sound like something a stalker would do. I mean, this was Lifetime Movie territory.

  “And then you followed me to Mountainside Plaza, saw me get out of Susanna’s car and into the cab, called Daphne, and told her to follow me. Right?”

  “Wow,” I said. “That was eerie.”

  “Lise.” She glared at me for a moment, her mouth all scrunched up like she was revving up to get really loud and angry. Instead, she grabbed my arm and pulled me into a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for getting me out of there. It wasn’t the right thing to do.”

  Yeah, understatement of the year, but I didn’t say so. I hugged her back. I felt her start to crumble again. I hugged her tighter. “We’ll figure it out,” I said again.

  “How? Your mom has to tell my parents.”

  “Well,” I said, my words delicate, “would that be the worst thing?”

  Mellie pulled back with a sharp intake of breath. “Yes. Yes, it would.”

  “Why? It wasn’t your fault. You are the victim here.”

  She shook her head. “They won’t see it that way.”

  I wanted to think she was wrong, but I know many women get blamed for their own rapes. What were you wearing? How much did you have to drink? Why were you walking to your car alone? It’s so easy to blame women that even other women do it without thinking. Still…these were her parents. “If anyone is going to take your side, it should be your parents. Right?”

  A red splotch spread across Mellie’s throat as she swallowed hard. “It must be nice to have parents that you never doubt are on your side,” she whispered. “I don’t have that.” A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye and spilled down her cheek, leaving a long trail in its wake. My own throat tightened. I did have that. I told myself to hug my mom tight and thank her when I got home.