Sarah's Choice

by Rebecca St. James

  Sarah stared.

  “We want to have another baby anyway, so this is perfect for us. And for you, I think, Sarah. You could be involved in his life as much you wanted . . . listen to me. I think of all babies as boys . . .”

  It’s not a boy. It’s a cherub-cheeked little girl who chirps and giggles and doesn’t care that she can’t spell Mommy because she loves her.

  “Sarah? Are you okay?”

  Denise anxiously searched her face. Disappointment already tugged at the corners of her lips.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah said.

  “I know it’s a lot to take in—”

  “No, I mean, I just can’t do that. I can’t.”

  “We would do everything we could to make it easy for you.”

  “It wouldn’t be easy! It would be agonizing!” Sarah felt the stares from the nearby tables, and she lowered her voice to a tear-thick whisper. “You’re a great mom, Denise, but I couldn’t live the rest of my life watching you be her mom and having her know I chose not to. I can’t.”

  “But you can consider ending her life before it even starts?”

  Sarah startled and knocked her water glass over. The server rushed over with a towel as if she’d merely been waiting for such a thing to happen at table 5, but Sarah waved her away. All empathy evaporated from Denise’s face. It was replaced with something firm and strong.

  “I told Mom I supported you, Sarah, as my sister. No matter what you do, I will still love you and I’ll be there to help you. But support that? No.”

  Sarah fixed her eyes on the stream that trailed from the overturned glass to the edge of table, soaking the cloth on its way. “So support doesn’t include going with me if I decide to terminate?”

  “No,” Denise said. “I’ll take care of you afterwards if you want, but be a part of it?” She paused until Sarah looked up at her. “That’s what I can’t do.”

  Her eyes filled and she fumbled in her bag.

  “I’m sorry I dashed your hopes,” Sarah said.

  Denise pulled out her wallet and shook her head. “It’s not my hopes you need to be worried about.”

  She motioned for the server, but Sarah pulled her hand down. “You’re upset. Go. I’ve got this.”

  Denise shoved her wallet back into her bag, but she still sat there. Sarah could almost see soothing hands in her sister’s head, stroking her thoughts into place.

  “You really need to talk to someone besides us about this,” she said finally. “I know you’re going to toss this aside, but I’m saying it anyway.”

  Sarah didn’t stop her. She’d already hurt her so much she wanted to remove her own tongue.

  “When I’m struggling with something, I still go to Reverend Smith—not because he can quote me chapter and verse—but because he’s our oldest family friend. When I wish I had Dad, I call him.”

  “I’m sure Mom’s already gone to him.”

  “No. She hasn’t.”

  Denise averted her eyes.

  “It’s because she’s embarrassed, isn’t it?”

  When Denise didn’t answer, Sarah said, “Okay, thanks.”

  “You won’t go see him, will you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Denise gave her one more crumpled look and hurried for the door. Sarah stayed and mopped up the water from the table.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sarah barely had time to take off her coat in her cubicle before her phone buzzed.

  “Sarah?” Jennifer said. “I’d like to see you in my office.”

  This was only Wednesday. Friday was the day they were supposed to announce their decision, right? Sarah’s stomach seized. Her deadline was Friday too. If they told her now—

  “Sarah?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be right there.”

  Wonderful impression of someone under hypnosis. Sarah tried to straighten her shoulders and get her game face on. But the pounds of loneliness were immovable now. Now that she’d lost Denise too.

  Jennifer’s office was as stylish as she was, everything gray and black and smooth, from the stapler to the sleekly framed ad for a perfume line Jennifer had headed up. Sarah would have appreciated it all more if Jennifer hadn’t rounded her desk like a high school principal and led Sarah by the elbow out the door and around the corner.

  “I want to show you something,” she said into Sarah’s ear.

  What? A guillotine? What happened to Sarah, you’re a woman of integrity?

  Jennifer stopped her at the corner and nodded toward the end of the hall. All Sarah saw there was Nick with somebody.

  Thad.

  Thad and a bag of golf clubs, which Nick was obviously admiring in spite of himself. Thad pulled out a—what—a nine iron? Who knew? Nick clearly did because he gripped it like it was an extension of his arm and took a practice swing at an invisible ball.

  “Do you see what’s happening down there?” Jennifer said, lips barely moving. “Thad figured out that the way to Nick’s heart is through his golf bag.”

  In other words, he was schmoozing. And?

  “He’s still trying to weasel his way into the promotion I want you to have.”

  Sarah’s stomach clenched. “Should I be worried?”

  “That depends.”

  Jennifer took her elbow again and ushered her back into the sleek-and-gray office. When she closed the door behind her and folded her arms, Sarah’s picture of herself at seventeen and in danger of suspension was complete.

  “Is it true?” Jennifer said.

  Her big hazel eyes would have no playing innocent. Lying was pointless too. As Denise said, she was so bad at it she never even tried.

  “Yes,” Sarah said.

  Jennifer’s expression remained impassive. Sarah fumbled.

  “Do you think I’ll lose the promotion if I decide to have the baby?”

  “Technically you can’t lose it because it hasn’t been offered to you yet.” Jennifer leaned against the front of her desk. Sarah still stood before her like an errant schoolgirl. “If you have a baby, will you be able to devote as much time and energy to the job as Thad?”

  “Honestly,” Sarah said, “I don’t know that.”

  “Look, I’ve told you, I’m on your side. I want you to have it because every woman in this company needs someone like you on the higher level.” Jennifer lifted one side of her mouth. “Someone who won’t even lie about being pregnant. But equal rights mean equal responsibility. We’re expected to do the same work as the men, whether we’ve been up all night with a colicky kid or not.”

  “I understand that.” The hair on the back of Sarah’s neck was beginning to prickle. “I would never use my child as an excuse for not doing the work.”

  “You might not even get the chance. If Henry and Nick find out you’re pregnant, that promotion will go to Thad so fast we’ll both have whiplash.” She lowered her chin and looked hard at Sarah. “And I can’t let them give it to you without them knowing about this. I’ve worked too hard to risk losing my credibility. I like you, Sarah, but . . .” She shrugged.

  Sarah gazed past her at the perfume ad. Jennifer had won an award and a promotion and this office for that campaign. She could have that, too, with the ConEx account. All she had to do was choose.

  Between this and the cherub cheeks.

  “I’ll be straight with you like I always have,” Jennifer said. “If you want this promotion, take care of things by Friday morning.”

  Sarah jerked back to her. Jennifer’s smile was uncertain, as if she’d stepped into territory she normally tried to stay out of.

  “You’re a young woman, Sarah. There will be plenty of time for a family later, when you’re more established.”

  She stood up and clasped her hands. Prediction made. File closed. Interview over.

  Sarah left Jennifer’s office and went to Audrey’s, but she wasn’t there. Panic stirred in her stomach. Had she gone into labor? Was she gone for good?

  Okay, stop. Audrey wasn’t the
person she needed to talk to anyway.

  She headed straight for the only other person who knew.

  Megan was on the phone, obviously with somebody further down on the totem pole. She spoke slow and loud with exaggerated patience.

  “They will like the concept if you let them think it was their idea . . . I’m about to tell you how . . . Just change it to the font they wanted . . . I know it’s hideous, but do it . . . and move everything over to the left . . . Because that will be enough to make them think you changed the whole thing . . . Of course you’re going to bill them for the time. That’s how we make money. Comprende? We good?”

  Megan hung up, leaving her hand spread in the air over the phone and rolling her eyes far up into her head.

  “Where do we get these people?” she said to Sarah. “Sorry. Sit.”

  “No.”

  Megan watched her, eyes cool. “I’m glad you decided to come in. Finally.”

  “Are you the one who told Jennifer I’m pregnant?”

  Megan steepled her fingers under her chin. “Yes.”

  Sarah gritted her teeth. “Why did you do that?”

  “Had to. She called me into her office yesterday and asked me if I had any long-term concerns about your abilities. She was trying to finalize her pitch for you to Nick and Carson.”

  That didn’t make sense.

  “And you told her? What were you thinking?”

  “Do you seriously want me to get fired? That’s exactly what would have happened if they found out later that I knew and didn’t tell them. They’re all about full disclosure around here.”

  Sarah sank into the chair in the corner. Megan swiveled to look at her.

  “So what did Jennifer say?”

  “Take care of it by Friday.”

  “Which brings us right back to where we’ve been for over a week now.” Megan straightened the already stiff stand-up collar of her white blouse. “How many more people have to tell you to get this over with and get on with your life before you actually do it?”

  “I can’t just get over Daisy’s life!”

  Sarah put her hand to her mouth. It was one thing not to lie, but did she have to blurt out everything that was true? And to Megan? Who was looking at her as if she’d grown a third eye?

  “Who in the world is Daisy?”

  She shifted her gaze to her lap. “The baby. And the six-year-old.”

  “Whose?”

  “Mine.”

  She looked up to see Megan narrow her eyes into slits. “Did you have another dream?”

  “It wasn’t like a dream, though. Neither of them was.” Sarah tossed her head back. “Why am I even telling you this?”

  “Because you know I’ll tell you that you’re either going psycho on me or you’re letting those religious fanatics make you feel guilty. You can’t let them do that, Sarah.”

  Megan’s face reddened, and the cool, decisive voice melted down into something so un-Megan Sarah almost didn’t recognize it as hers. She’d seen Megan annoyed, irritated, and even ready to cuss someone out in Portuguese. But this voice was thick with guilt of its own.

  “Why do I feel like we’re not talking about me anymore?” Sarah said.

  Megan clearly struggled to get her face under control. “Close the blinds and I’ll tell you what I’m talking about. And maybe then you will finally get it.”

  Sarah went to the wide window that faced the hall and tugged the cord. By the time she returned to the chair, Megan was back in Megan-mode. Except for the rolling of a pen between her palms. Sarah had never seen her do anything remotely nervous before.

  “I’ve been where you are,” she said.

  “Pregnant?”

  “Yep. I was sixteen. A junior in high school and in love.” Megan made quotation marks in the air with the pen. “I wanted to have the baby. But I’ve told you about my mother.”

  “Um—domineering. Controlling.”

  “That’s her.”

  And that’s you. But Sarah stayed quiet. At the moment Megan’s sarcasm was forced and fragile.

  “When she’s not busy messing up her own life, she’s busy messing up mine.”

  All Sarah could really remember from Megan’s tales of her mother was three divorces and several failed attempts at being an entrepreneur.

  “Not that I wasn’t doing a pretty good job of messing it up myself. I only hated her because she was right.”

  “About . . .”

  “Making me have an abortion.”

  Sarah felt a surprising pang of pain. It was hard enough trying to make a decision for herself. Having someone make it for her would be excruciating.

  “She was right,” Megan said, though Sarah wasn’t sure whether she was trying to convince her or herself. “Do you think I’d be where I am now if I’d had a kid at sixteen? Can you even imagine me with a fourteen-year-old kid?”

  Sarah could, actually. That kid would be stunning and trendy and have a smart mouth that would rival Megan’s every day of the week. Megan leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling and Sarah wondered if she was imagining that kid too. The silence grew uncomfortable.

  “What about the father?” Sarah said.

  “What about him?”

  “Didn’t he have an opinion?”

  “Not according to my mother.”

  “Did he even know?”

  “Oh yeah. I told him first, and there was this big dramatic scene where we planned to get married, get an apartment. He would get a job and somehow we would all live happily ever after.” She dropped the pen on the desk. “And then you know what happened?”

  “Your mother.”

  “And reality. Like a slap in the face. I had the abortion. My mother lived happily ever after, to hear her tell it, and I guess”—she wafted a hand around her office—“so did I.”

  “What about the father?” Sarah said again.

  “The absolute love of my sixteen-year-old life? He delivered a pizza to my mother’s house last month.” She leaned forward and pointed herself at Sarah. “A pizza. Of course my mother could not wait to tell me that. It was aren’t you glad you listened to me for thirty minutes.”

  “Listened to her? You didn’t have a choice.”

  “Don’t get all indignant for me,” Megan said. “She knew what she was doing. Where would I be right now, seriously? Divorced, for sure. I doubt I’d even have finished high school, let alone college. I’d probably be living in some dump of an apartment on welfare. What kind of life would that be for me and my kid?”

  Sarah stared, stricken, as Megan’s face collapsed. Tears had entered three sentences ago, from someplace they’d obviously been ordered to stay probably about fourteen years ago. They eroded Megan’s veneer right before Sarah’s eyes.

  “I never even think about it except for this god-awful time of year.” She tried to rally some anger and failed. “I hate Christmas. I refuse to even go to the company party with all the kids and Santa . . .”

  Sarah tilted her head. “You went last year.”

  “And if you’ll recall, I said I was sick and left early.”

  “But you weren’t sick.”

  Megan shook her head. The tears had taken siege, and she was helpless to stop them. “I was fine and then Lisa came with her son. The thirteen-year-old.”

  Sarah remembered him. Tall and funny-bordering-on-obnoxious and too cute for his own good. The precocious thing had actually tried to hit on her.

  “He was the same age as my child would’ve been, and that just—it just punched me right in the stomach. I went home to my empty apartment and I ripped the wreath off my door. What was I celebrating, you know?”

  “Megan, I’m sorry—”

  “So here I am: thirty years old, married to my job. I can still hear my mother telling me the day we left the clinic that I would have plenty of time for children when I was ready.” A sob broke free from the place it had been stuck, Sarah guessed, since that day. “I don’t see that happening.”


  Sarah gave her a minute to find Kleenex and pull her sorrow back inside. Then she said, “How do I know I’m not going to feel the same way if I have an abortion?”

  Megan looked as if something were occurring to her for the first time. It was another expression Sarah had never seen her wear before. Her eyes made an honest channel straight to Sarah.

  “I guess you can’t know,” she said. “My choice was made for me. You need to make your own. Just make sure it’s a decision you can live with.” Her voice faltered again. “And would you go do that? Because right now, I can’t talk about this anymore.”

  Sarah stood up and with a brush of her fingers on Megan’s knee she left her there to put the pieces back where they belonged. She had a feeling they wouldn’t fit any more.

  She closed Megan’s door soundlessly behind her, and as she started toward her office her cell phone went off in her pocket, Matt’s ring tone. She couldn’t talk to him now, not with Megan’s anguish all tangled up with hers. She reached into her pocket to silence it and felt something else in there, like card stock paper.

  What had she forgotten now? She pulled it out and stopped cold in her cubicle doorway. It was the Christmas card. Sarah dropped it and clamped both hands over her mouth. She had torn it up this morning. Into small pieces. In her apartment. She hadn’t even bothered to sweep them up before she left for work. Yet here were the wise men, two of them looking up at her as if to say, “What more do you want from us? It’s all right there in the visions.”

  It’s not all right there! she wanted to scream at them. Where’s the part about how I’m supposed to afford to take care of her? Without a good job? Which I can’t get if I have her? Where is that?

  “You dropped something.”

  Sarah jumped. Thad leaned over and retrieved the card.

  “Here you go.”

  Sarah stared at it.

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry. Thanks,” Sarah said and took it from him.

  “Who’s it from?” Thad said, for all the world like it was his business. His wheedling voice snapped Sarah back.

  “Hey, Thad, personal boundaries?”