Choice

by Kennedy, Allison J.

  My relationship with Danika crumbled during that year as well. When it came down to it, I knew I held no resentment toward her for that night. But she couldn’t look at me without blaming herself, and I couldn’t look at her without remembering. We check on each other now and then though, with a phone call here or there. She just graduated from the University of Oregon with a degree in interior design, and has already been hired at a design firm in Seattle. She married an accountant, and she has a baby on the way.

  Everyone has moved on. I’m still trying to do the same.

  I have carried that scarf around for years. I don’t know what became of the woman who owned it, but it reminds me now that I am alive. I am somehow functioning, even in the midst of nightmares and the grieving of my best friend. Some days it feels like I will never let her go. Other days it’s like she’s still here and just a phone call away.

  I found out I was pregnant on the anniversary of Addison’s death. It only seemed fitting that my daughter should be named after her. The day she was born, she was placed in my arms and for the first time in so long, I cried because I was happy.

  Elijah has been my rock. It hasn’t mattered that I’ve been broken. He has slowly but surely been supporting me as I repair my wings. He’s not my savior though. Through him, I have learned how I am the only one who can repair myself.

  My family took him in with open arms four years ago. We married two years later. Adair Books flourished after much trial and error, and we lived in that little upstairs apartment up until a month ago. Now we are the proud owners of a beach condo. And I came around to it late, but I am in my first year of college. I am determined to be a doctor like I always wanted.

  I also write. I write to heal. I write to process things. Writing has become such a huge part of my identity that I don’t think I can ever be separate from it.

  The living room is packed with guests, most of which are from my dad’s side of the family. Dad is sitting on the couch with Mom, laughing at something someone said. Grace is standing in the corner of the room with her boyfriend, James. She and I have never really been close, but we understand and love each other. We share rare moments where it almost feels like we’re best friends, but the truth is I really don’t have friends anymore.

  The doorbell rings and I leave the living room to answer it, expecting another guest. Instead I find the UPS man. He holds out a padded envelope to me and has me sign his electronic pad. I tell him goodbye and look at the name on the package: Elijah Alexander Adair.

  He isn’t here right now. He’s outside on the grassy cliff with Addison, letting her see the ocean. Sometimes it is the only thing that eases her when she is upset.

  I hook my finger under the top of the envelope and tear it open. Inside is a stack of papers. I pull them out and notice the name at the top: Virtuoso Recording Co.

  My heart skips as I scan the lines below. I read them out loud. “Mr. Adair, I am pleased to inform you that our label would like to represent you. Please read the following . . . .”

  I rush out the door. “Elijah!” I call, clutching the papers to my chest so they don’t blow away in the wind.

  He turns around and grins at me, bouncing Addison gently on his hip. The grass sways up to his thighs. “Hey,” he says. “What is that?”

  “You did it!” I beam, turning the stack of papers around so he can see them. I see his eyes light up in disbelief. “You really did it.”

  He kisses me fiercely, pulling me against him with his free arm. The wind whips around, blasting us with cool, salty, coastal air. The feeling is magical. “Your smile is so beautiful,” he tells me when we part. I know I don’t smile enough for him. The way he says this, though I know it isn’t intentional, makes me regret not finding more reasons to make him happy.

  But I know that’s not why he wants me to smile; I know it’s because he wants me to be happy.

  I touch his cheek, shaking my head in amazement. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud to be your wife.”

  I can tell that something inside of him is soothed by me saying that. His beautiful eyes soften and he leans into my touch. “I love you, May. I’ve always loved you.”

  “I love you too,” I answer with all my heart.

  He grins and looks at Addison. She smiles back at him, a mirror reflection of her father. “Come on. Let’s go tell everyone,” he says excitedly, reaching for my hand.

  I take it, but I stop him. “I need a moment. Will you wait until I come inside to tell them?”

  “Of course.” He kisses my forehead. “We’ll be waiting.”

  I watch him go into the house, turning around to face the ocean once he’s gone. The wind stings my eyes as I observe the scene before me. Storms brew in the distance; lightning crashes over the ocean in far away flashes. The tide roars with angst, stirring the shore with crashing waves. It’s been so long since I thought about who I am, and who I was before those fateful two weeks. I have been holding onto them, afraid to let go for fear I might have no identity at all. I had thought that choosing to end my pregnancy was the only choice I would ever have to make; that everything else—all of my pain—was secondary. I had thought it was all just part of a burden I had to bear.

  Elijah has never let me count on him for my healing. He has always pushed me to discover my own strength; to believe in myself enough to take flight once again. But I’m scared. I’m so scared that if I try, I will discover that my wings have healed all wrong. What if I fall from the sky and land in the ocean, only to be destroyed by the tide all over again?

  I release a breath. “What am I supposed to do?” I ask the stormy horizon, slipping my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. I feel my phone and pull it out.

  The voicemail. It still sits tucked away in the same phone I have never gotten rid of, because to do so would mean throwing away Addison’s last words to me.

  Tears slip from my eyes as I slowly flip it open. I know she would have wanted me to listen to it, but I have never had the strength to. I know I never will. And so, I press the button that will play it, bringing the phone to my ear. Addison’s voice rings through over the static of wind; she always drove with her windows down.

  “Remember when we were kids and we promised to always be honest with each other? I wasn’t honest with you at first. Not completely anyway. When you first told me you were considering ending this pregnancy, I told you I would support you, but I didn’t tell you how strongly I feel about this. But that being said . . . I know you probably already had it done. Your appointment started half an hour ago. And because it’s probably already done, nothing I am saying matters in terms of helping you decide. So instead, I want you to know you’ll be okay.” Her voice shook with emotion. When she spoke again, she was crying. “I want you to know this doesn’t change how amazing I think you are; how strong I know you are. Having an abortion won’t fix your pain, and I know you know that you’ll always have memories tied to it as well. I don’t know if you’ll ever regret it, but I know you won’t be unaffected by it.” She paused, collecting her thoughts.

  “You didn’t have a choice in what Tyler did. You had a choice about whether or not to end your pregnancy. But that’s not the only choice you’ll ever have. You can heal, May. Forget everything anyone has tried to tell you and just remember that ultimately you decide how your story goes. I might not know much about loss, but I know you. And I know that you’ll be okay if you don’t let any of this hold you back. I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what. I love you.”

  I stare at the dark horizon, my hair whipping behind me. My tears flow endlessly, and they likely always will. “You’ll always be here,” I whisper, somehow knowing it’s true. “Thank you, Addi.”

  A gust of wind hits me so hard that it almost knocks me over. My scarf comes unwound from my neck and begins to float away. I gasp, catching it before it’s gone.

  I watch it flap in the air as if it is desperately trying to escape. And I know: whether I heal or not, and whet
her I fly or fall, it is my choice to make. And my choice is the one thing that can never be stolen from me.

  I close my eyes, and with a breath of release, I open my hand.

  Acknowledgments

  Where do I even begin? Thank you, God, for carrying me through.

  Thank you to my dear friends and family who allowed me to vent and struggled with me through this book. Thank you for helping me wrestle with the parts that were almost impossible to write.

  Thank you Jill Weinstein and J.C. Wing, for polishing my work. You’re amazing!

  Readers, I so appreciate your support and devotion to my writing. Words will never be able to express how thankful I am for you.

  Interview of the author: with Teryn O’Brien

  I was so honored to be interviewed by my dear friend, Teryn. We met through her blog, Identity Renewed and instantly had a connection that quickly formed into a friendship. Teryn, like me, writes to heal. I hope you enjoy this interview!

  Biography: Teryn moved to Colorado as soon as she possibly could and works in online marketing for various imprints of Penguin Random House. She’s a successful blogger, coaches authors in online marketing and writing, and hopes to publish a fantasy trilogy soon. Teryn spends her free time roaming the mountains, participating in dance classes, and working with horses. Irish at heart, she’s extremely passionate about all things Celtic. Follow her on www.terynobrien.com, or follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

  Teryn: Allison, reading your book The Choice was a raw and emotional experience. I have to ask, what was it like writing this book? Was it painful to do? How did you tap into the emotion for this book?

  Allison: I’m a firm believer that no story should ever be written if the writer doesn’t know how to walk in his/her character’s shoes. It’s impossible for me not to be honest in my writing; I can’t just detach myself and write a story that doesn’t ring true to me at its core. Because of this, it wasn’t difficult to tap into the emotion for this book. However, it was difficult to leave it at my computer when my writing was done for the day. Not only because May, at her core, is me, but because certain elements in this story are things I face in my everyday life.

  Teryn: Obviously, this book deals with the topic of abortion—a sensitive subject with strong opinions on either side. How hard was it to write an honest portrayal of one young woman’s choice? Were you terrified of delving into this topic?

  Allison: Yes, I was terrified. Every single person has an opinion on this subject. I’ve never met someone who is neutral about it, or didn’t have at least some idea of how they view abortion. I was afraid that when people read this book, they would assume I was trying to push one view or the other. That was simply not the case. I only wanted to show the truth and consequences of abortion in a way that most women and young girls aren’t exposed to. My view is irrelevant, and I really wanted to be sensitive to other people’s views.

  Teryn: We have both talked a lot about writing to heal. Why did you write this book? What healing did you experience through the process?

  Allison: I wrote this book because at least some of it is based on personal experience, and while that experience is personal to me, I knew it was something that could speak to young women. Though, I will admit, I mostly wrote it for myself. As you know, I write to process things. My “choice” has been processing for many years, and in writing this book, I did feel myself beginning to heal. It was a reminder of the things I’ve held on to, and the way I need to let go. It’s a lifelong journey, for sure. This was just a stepping-stone to that healing.

  Teryn: In the book, May never told anyone (besides a few friends) she was raped. What societal and relational factors played into her refusal to open up about this topic?

  Allison: In May’s circumstance, she was raised by a mother (a criminal defense attorney) who, whether she meant to or not, had drilled into her head that when bad things happen, there was almost always a way to prevent it. May never did anything wrong. She didn’t fit the stereotype of a young girl who got too high at a party and “asked” for it with either her actions or her clothing. Tyler was well-liked and respected by his peers, and if she were to tell anyone, she would have to say he forced her into it. So there were many factors at play, two of which included: fear of being blamed or accused of lying, and the fear of being seen as a victim by everyone she knew.

  It’s very common for a rape victim to experience many different emotions, but oftentimes those emotions aren’t enough to compel them to come forward. The thought of exposing the truth is terrifying. Can you imagine being a victim of such a brutal act, and then coming forward only to find that you either weren’t believed, or you were seen as weak and fragile? Dirty? At fault? It’s easier to stay quiet and try to process it alone, but the truth is that doing it alone is so much harder than seeking the support one needs to heal.

  I want to be clear and emphasize that no rape victim ever asks for it. I don’t care what she’s wearing, how drunk or high she is, etc. It is never the woman’s fault. But unfortunately, society has acquired a stigma about this subject: that if women dressed more modestly, they might have better chances of being “skipped” as a target. Or that sometimes men are stupid and think she wants it when she doesn’t. Men aren’t that stupid. And men aren’t the only gender who rape. Every single person who rapes someone has complete responsibility over his or her actions.

  Teryn: What do you think about the problem of rape culture and violence toward women we’re dealing with in America right now? What do you think could be done to help make the world a safer place for victims to come forward (and for it to never happen in the first place)?

  Allison: I believe there could always be more resources available to victims. We teach Sex-Ed in schools, so why not cover rape as well? Why not make it an open topic of discussion in classrooms? Rape victims often feel that in order to find support, they will have to expose themselves to judgment. Victims already feel such shame that the last thing they want is pity. This alone makes coming forward difficult.

  Unfortunately, rape is often romanticized in books, music, and movies. I read a book recently that depicted a woman enjoying the experience of being raped. How often do rap songs objectify women? How often do women allow themselves to be objectified? This issue is woven into our society and it needs to be exposed for what it is and dealt with, but that will take a serious rewiring effort on all of our parts.

  But first and foremost, the best thing anyone can do for someone who has been raped is support them and encourage them to come forward for help. Don’t judge them based on circumstance.

  Teryn: May experiences different reactions to her choice to abort. Some are supportive, some are not supportive. It was interesting to me that ironically, Grace, May’s sister, was seemingly the most judgmental of the characters. May never told her sister what really happened. How easy it is to judge the decisions of others, even when you don’t truly know the circumstances? When writing this story, has it helped you feel more compassion or empathy for women who choose an abortion? How can we show empathy and love to women who’ve been through an abortion?

  Allison: I wanted to show that regardless of circumstance, people will always feel one way or the other. Addison knew May was raped, yet was convinced that abortion was murder. Grace assumed the child was conceived consensually and saw what May was doing as a copout. If Grace had known the truth, would she have felt differently? Maybe; maybe not. Most people encourage abortion after being raped; yet far fewer encourage it as a form of birth control. Addison was one of the rare ones who felt that circumstance didn’t matter. Very few people who are considering abortion after rape ever come against such scrutiny. But May did. Why? So she could be warned that regardless of how the baby was conceived, there are still things to consider. Abortion isn’t a fix-all. And of course May’s story isn’t universal, but in her circumstance, she experienced remorse over her choice.

  Many women experience suicidal thoughts after abortion. Many women dre
am about the baby they never had. Many women experience depression for years. I have met so many women who wish they could take their choice back. And again, my purpose in writing this story isn’t to sway anyone one way or another. It’s merely to tell one person’s story and reveal the consequences of abortion to women who might not know otherwise.

  It’s so easy to judge others based on their decision, especially when we assume they conceived their baby by accident. You asked me if I now feel more compassion toward women who have chosen abortion, and I would have to say I do. I have met many women in my life who have had abortions, and I will be the first to say there were times I judged them. But the truth is that you never know the full story. You never know what that woman is going through. Sometimes people don’t want advice. Sometimes they just want someone to cry with them. So if you know anyone who is going through this, regardless of your views, remember they are quite possibly facing the hardest decision of their life. Be there for them instead of judging them.

  Teryn: The love story between May and Alex (Elijah) was poignant. Are you a romantic at heart? What’s your favorite part about writing romance? What is, to you, the most important thing about a relationship?

  Allison: I am such a romantic at heart. I don’t think I will ever write a book that doesn’t have at least an underlying love story in the plot. There’s just something about it that makes me feel alive when I write it. Romance is beautiful. It’s sacred. It’s messy. It’s what keeps the world functioning (and falling apart). But no matter what, it’s impossible for me not to write it.