than harm. And she needs you desperately. Of course, it will be best if you don't discuss or mention your abortion around her. Just focus on helping her remember that she did NOT abort you. You'll do all you can to help her, won't you?" There was an intense pleading in his eyes.
"Of course," I responded automatically. And I instantly knew part of the reason for the intensity of his gaze. I'm no dummy, and knew his urging me to do this wasn't just to help Mom. Part of it was obviously intended to help ME to recover from my own abortion, by having someone to serve and help and get my mind off my own problems. Doc Jenkins was a pretty sharp guy.
"You've got a lot of your father in you," he said with a slight smile. "A lot of that old fire and strength of his. I think things will turn out all right for you all."
As if on cue, Dad suddenly came in the door. He gazed at me with an odd pleading in his eyes, knowing that the awful story and his part in it had been told.
Before I could say a word, he blurted, "Please forgive me Kate. I hope you won't judge me too harshly. I was wrong, and have regretted it ever since. I cannot imagine life without you. I've been unspeakably grateful ever since Doc Jenkins did what he did."
"So, you WERE the doctor in the story!" I said to Doc Jenkins accusingly. He just grinned in a goofy, embarrassed way. But I didn't say this just to accuse him. Actually I did it to divert attention from the intensity of Dad's gaze, and the agony in his eyes. It almost seemed he was on the verge of tears again, which was so foreign to his normal personality that I hardly knew what to say or do. I wasn't sure I could handle it if he lost his composure again.
But my little diversion tactic didn't work. Dad was still looking at me with an intensity that obviously would not go away. And suddenly I melted and rose from my chair and he was hugging me once again.
"Oh, Daddy, of course I forgive you! I love you! I know you would never do anything to hurt me. That was just a mistake you made, long ago." I could feel water on my shoulder again as he started balling. And suddenly my own floodgates opened once more and another deluge took place. And while Doc Jenkins stood awkwardly by looking on, I found myself wishing with all my heart that it was Jonathon I was hugging, not Dad, and that HE was the one that had said those words to me.
Oh, how I wished to hear those words from him! How I yearned to hear his little voice say, "I forgive you! I forgive you!"
But he was dead, and could not say them.
May 4
In the midst of all the drama and trauma, I found out when I went to bed that night that Oscar had run away. Apparently when I stayed at Clarice's house the night before and didn't come home, he decided he had to go out and find me and bring me back. I was devastated, of course. On top of everything else, losing him was almost too much. But thankfully he came wandering back two days later, looking fatter if anything, and very contented with himself. I don't know where he went, but it must have been a good place. I was just grateful that he had not died and left me too, which would have been yet another death I caused.
The next month was one of the most difficult of my life. Every night I had my dreams of Jonathon. Sometimes they haunted me so much, I could hardly sleep. Always he was there, staring at me with those horrible, adoring baby-eyes. A few nights I woke up screaming. Only this time, mom didn't come in to comfort me as she had before.
My days were haunted too, in a way. Dad was wonderful and so was Doc Jenkins, but Mom was not good at all. She just lay there, getting thinner and thinner, and refused to recognize me. I would go in and sit with her for hours, talking with her as if everything was normal. I would bring up things we had done together in the past and places we'd been. I even confessed a few of my misdeeds from childhood days that she'd never known about, like the time I put her favorite curling iron down the toilet. But she would just stare at me with her big, limpid eyes, and say nothing. The few times she would talk, it was simply to say that Kate was dead, because she had killed her. This did not help me of course, and made me feel even greater guilt about Jonathon.
It was obvious to me that not only had I killed my baby, I had basically killed my mother as well. Doc Jenkins kept insisting I was doing good with my efforts every day, and so did the specialist Dad brought in to look at her. But I remained unconvinced.
And why should I think any differently? The baby that had so miraculously been returned to her had turned around and betrayed her! In a way, the Kate she had so lovingly raised HAD died, and was no more. That Kate died the day she killed her own baby, Jonathon. So in a way mom was right when she said her Kate was dead. The Kate everyone saw now was just a shell that was walking around, going through the motions day by day. It was not the same person at all.
I dropped out of school. It was a stupid thing to do I know, but with Clarice gone and after my falling out with Bob, I just couldn't face the whole school scene again. School didn't have any meaning anymore. As for Clarice, I kept trying on Facebook and gmail to reach her, but she never responded. I frequently went back to her house to see if she or her Mom or Dad had returned, but there was never anyone there. I had no idea how her Dad could stay away from his job that long. But one day as I drove by, I was surprised and discouraged to see a 'For Sale' sign out front. When I called the realtor about it, all she said was that the owner lived in Florida.
As for Bob, he called me again after about two weeks. Because of my Mom and Dad's story in which Dad had such a huge change of heart, I decided to answer his call and talk to him. It wasn't out of any interest I had in him, since he no longer meant anything to me. I just wanted to see if he would react the same way Dad did.
"Gee, it sure is great to her your voice," he said ecstatically.
"It's good to hear yours too," I lied. My heart struggled briefly with the memory of the cute, ruggedness that had initially attracted me to him. But the struggle was very brief. All I had to do was remember what he'd said in his house that day, and the feeling left immediately.
"So, what's been happening?" he asked. "I haven't seen you at school."
"I decided to finish high school online," I lied. "It's quicker that way." That was a total crock of course, since I had been too depressed to work on any classes. My carefully created high school GPA was in a shambles--but I didn't even care. I simply didn't care about things like that anymore.
"Senior sluff day is next week," he said. "And after that's graduation."
I felt a slight twinge of regret--but only a very slight one. It was nothing like the regret I felt about killing Jonathon. "Are you going?" I asked.
"Sure," he answered. There was silence for a moment. We were both obviously trying very hard to avoid any mention of the punch in the nose or the abortion. But the truth was, I was just trying to give the impression all was normal again, to get his guard down so I could spring my question.
"So," he said in that casual way that told me he was about to make a proposition, "how about if we get together? Maybe this Friday? We could do pizza and a movie."
It sounded like he might be sufficiently lulled into a false sense of normalness. I decided to spring my trap. "Gee I'd love to," I said, "but on Friday Dad and I are going to go out crib shopping for the baby."
I heard a strangled, choking sound on the other end of the line. "What did you say?" he blurted in a husky voice.
"You know," I said, trying to act casual. "The baby. OUR baby. The one that you're the father of. Isn't it wonderful that the abortion wasn't successful, and that he'll be born soon?"
The phone suddenly went dead. And when he didn't call back as the days and weeks passed, I had my answer. Bob was NOT like my Dad. Not at all. But the saddest part was that my lie about crib shopping wasn't true. The abortion had not failed, and Jonathon was indeed dead. Dad and I would not be going crib shopping for Jonathon, now or ever.
One day a few weeks later, I sent a text at random to Bob's Mom saying her son had got me pregnant, then convi
nced me to have an abortion. It was my parting shot, to make his life interesting. Unfortunately, I never got a response.
May 12
It's been a few days since I've written in this disgusting journal. I decided at the last minute to postpone my therapy appointment, mainly because I hadn't got my story in here finished and I knew he'd ask about it. Then when I finally did meet with him even though I hadn't finished, he surprised me by saying he was pleased I was still writing in this silly thing since a lot of his patients either throw their journals down the sewer or put catsup on them and microwave them. This made me think there must be some psychological connection between all of his patients, since those are two things I've been sorely tempted to do more than once. One of these days I just might, too.
Anyway, he said to keep writing in here but that I could take my time, since he said the most important thing is to simply write every day. "You must learn to harvest the energy of time!" he said dramatically, using one of the trite sayings he likes to use. "Do a little tidbit of something big every day, and one day you'll wake up and realize you've done far more than you ever expected! And THAT is harvesting the energy of time."
I think he's nuts. But I guess I must be nuts too since I keep going to see
My Name is Kate and I Just Killed My Baby Page 12