by Rita Delude
I don’t dare interrupt her. Tears are flowing, but she seems to have found a rhythm where she can tell her story at her pace.
“When it was time to go home for dinner, I took her hand and we started home. Suddenly, a dog came running out of nowhere and ran toward the road. Susan pulled away from my hand and went chasing after it. As she did, a pickup truck hit her. I ran to her, but she was gone. Dead immediately…”
She stops and takes a deep breath, blows her nose, and closes her eyes. I know she’s seeing her sister in the road.
“I screamed her name until my voice was so hoarse that I couldn’t speak until the next day after she was hit. Susan, Susan, Susan. But it didn’t make her come back to me. I held her in my arms until a policeman pulled me away.”
My head spins. My heart breaks for her. I imagine the pain of a seventeen-year-old seeing her sister die that way. I see accidents often with family members grieving over their loved ones, but this hits so close to home because it’s my Emily and her sister, Susan. I know I must think carefully now to save our child.
“I’m sorry that happened to you and Susan.”
“It happened to all of us. My parents have never really forgiven me. Laurie has. She has Izzy and the boys. She knows how fast they move. My parents do too, of course, but I took their child away. An unforgiveable thing.”
Now, I understand the distance I felt coming from them. How awful for Emily all these years.
“But what’s Susan’s death got to do with our babies?”
“Don’t you see?” she asks looking directly into my eyes, and I see the pain that is buried all the way to her soul. “We can’t have kids. I can’t be trusted to keep them safe. And I’m too afraid to be responsible for them.”
“But I want kids. I assumed we’d have a houseful. You never told me this.” I am angry and accusing, but I don’t care.
“You never asked.”
“You surround yourself with kids, so I assumed you loved them and would want them, so I never asked.”
“I have them around me because I do love them, but I can’t be responsible for them. It’s too much. Too hard. What if something like, like, like Susan happened to one of ours? I’d…”
Her words trail off then.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t mean this. You won’t be alone. I’ll help. We’ll parent together. We’ll keep our kids safe. We can do this. I promise. You’ve trusted me on everything else. You have to trust me on this most important thing.”
She drops her chin to her chest and refuses to look at me. “I can’t, Chance. I’m going to keep next week’s appointment.”
I stand up then. “If that’s your final answer on this, consider our engagement off. I cannot marry you if you abort our baby. I love you, Emily, with all my heart, but I love our offspring too. If you abort, we’re finished.”
At that, I pick up my jacket from the rack in the entranceway and slam the door behind me.
Chapter Nineteen
Emily
I’m glad I called out sick. I have a lot to think about and do after Chance’s dramatic exit. I call Laurie and ask her to meet me for lunch the next day. She tries to badger the issue out of me, but I think it best if I tell her what’s going on with Chance and me in person. I want her raw, unrehearsed reaction. It’s when she gives the best advice.
I made a vow to myself at Susan’s funeral that I’d never have kids of my own. I can’t. I can’t be trusted. I can’t take the risk of losing another child to such a tragedy. I know what it did to my always happy Mom and Dad. It soured and saddened them and put a distance between them and me that has been lessened over the years, but never completely bridged. Our family dynamics changed forever. It’s all about Laurie and her family as if they have taken Susan’s place in their hearts, but I know that’s not possible. Although Izzy is smart, talented, beautiful, and delightful in so many ways, she is not their Susan. The boys are certainly not Susan. No one can be my Susan. Their Susan. No one could be. I can’t bring her back. They can’t either. I’ll never forgive myself for not holding on with a death grip and not catching her before she reached the road that day.
Chance. I’ve broken his heart. I should have warned him children of our own aren’t possible for me. We can’t have them. We can’t adopt. We can enjoy other kids. We can borrow Izzy, Jordan, and Jayson, and his nephew Chris, but the day-to-day worry of sicknesses, possible death, accidents, the unlikely abduction, anything that could take our child away from us forever would leave me crippled. He assumed I’d want children of our own because he does and because I enjoy kids so much. That’s fair enough. He does. I do. But not after Susan. He’s got to understand. This is not in my future.
I touch my stomach then and rub it. “Sorry, baby,” I say. Then I run to the bathroom and vomit, not for the first time today.
Our bed seems huge and oh so lonely when Chance doesn’t come home. I can’t sleep. There’s so much to think about. I’m terrified of an abortion and what it could do to my body and, of course, will do to the baby. But I’m even more afraid of what will happen if I don’t do it. I wish there was someone I could talk to. To the outside world looking in, I’ve got the ideal mate. Why not have a child with him? To me, how can I? Laurie will know.
Just as the sun starts to sneak into the bedroom, and I slip off to sleep, Dolly begs to be let out. Too little, too late.
Laurie meets me at Sam’s Coffee Coup at lunch time, and we order our usual half sandwich and soup. I opt for water instead of my usual coffee. Sam makes the best in town, but my stomach can’t take the extra acid.
“Well, you look like death warmed over,” Laurie says after we order. “What’s up?” She’s never been one to mince words.
“Chance left mad last night and hasn’t come home.”
“Really? What happened? Spill all.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Instead of a wide, congratulatory smile that most sisters would give their sibling, Laurie, knowing me so well, frowns. “Oh, no, that’s not what you want. I mean, not just because we haven’t had the wedding yet, but because, because, you still don’t want kids, right? What the hell happened? I thought you were always on the pill?”
“Remember when I got that fever I couldn’t shake last month? They put me on antibiotics, but no one warned me that sometimes antibiotics can cancel out the effects of the pill, and well, viola. Baby on board,” I say, pointing to my stomach.
“Oh, sis, I’m sorry. Is Chance mad because you’re pregnant or furious because you don’t want to keep it?”
“’Cause I’m going to abort.”
“Abort? Are you kidding me? I’d think you’d put any kid up for adoption, not abortion.”
“Nope. I want no chance of falling in love with him or her,” I say, and I feel a tear trickle down my face.
She gets up from her seat and puts her arm around my shoulder then. “I’m with you, Emily, whatever you decide.”
“If I do this, I lose Chance forever. He told me so.”
“Do you want that?” she asks as she sits back down.
“No, of course not. But what can I do? You know how I feel.”
“When’s the procedure scheduled for?” she asks.
“Next Wednesday.”
“Okay. I’ll take the day off and be with you if you still want to go ahead with it, but I think you need to talk with Chance one more time at least and hear him out. He loves you, Emily. He’d be there for you, I’m sure.”
“That’s if he comes back or even calls. I’ve texted him, and he hasn’t answered. He’s shut me out.”
“Give him time. It’s a lot to process. Have you been seeing the shrink you saw as a kid when this thing with Susan first happened?”
“No. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Well, I think you should call and see if she has time to fit you in. I’m sure a topic like this never came up when you were seventeen, but it’s here now. Get her take on it.”
“What
would you do?” I ask.
She laughs. “Are you kidding me? Allen and I have been trying since two months after Izzy was born to have a few more, but there’s been nothing yet. We’ll probably be like Mom and Dad and have an “oops baby” when she’s seventeen and the boys are out of college. If we do, we’ll both be delighted. If I were you, I’d keep it, but I’m not in your head. You are. Again, I love you no matter what you decide.”
Tears are streaming down my cheeks now and our waitress comes around to ask if everything’s okay. I wipe my face and say, “Yes, she just gave me the best news, and I’m such a sap, I always cry,” I say. That satisfies her and she hustles away.
“Listen, hon, I wish I could stay all afternoon, but I’ve got to get back. Mr. Raymond’s got us on another conference call at 1:30. I don’t know how he expects us to get any code written when he keeps us tied up in meetings every day.”
“Go. Go,” I say and wave her off.
She kisses me on the forehead, leaves her half of the bill plus tip, and rushes out the door.
That doesn’t help like I hoped it would.
Chapter Twenty
Chance
Sleeping in my brother Chuck’s spare bedroom isn’t uncomfortable, but the ninety questions from him and his wife, Annette, are. They want every detail of the struggle that sent me running to stay with them instead of sleeping at what I call “our house,” which is really Emily’s.
Despite how angry I am at Emily for even considering aborting our baby, I want to protect her, so I refuse to share this news and her reaction to it with them. It’s none of their business as far as I’m concerned. If somehow our relationship gets patched up, I don’t want the wives haunting Emily for the rest of our years together or people talking behind her back. What I do need is to find a way to talk her out of what she’s considering and fast because she says her appointment is next week.
So, I excuse myself and hide in the bedroom, knowing full well I’m not going to be able to sleep. I can’t believe I’ve found the perfect girl to fall in love with. She gets me. She loves me. I love her. I’d lay down my life for her, yet this. She won’t have my kid, our kid. This is nuts. There’s got to be something I can do to stop her. I can’t lose her. And I won’t lose our kid. I’ll raise it myself if she won’t. Maybe that’s it. I’ll talk her into keeping it and then raise it myself. I could do that.
Who am I kidding? Kids need a mom and a dad. No they don’t. There are lots of perfectly normal kids with single parents or kids with two moms or two dads. I could do this. But how am I supposed to live without Emily? She’s become my everything. She’s the first thing on my mind every morning whether I take an overnight shift or not. She’s the last thing I think of as I drift off to sleep. I want her holding my hand as I take my last breath. I can’t imagine life without her in it. If somehow she’s willing to give up our baby to me, would that even be enough? I don’t think so. I want the whole deal. The entire package. I want what my brothers have—wives and kids. Not a kid and no wife or a wife with no kids. Selfish maybe, but I don’t care. I want it all. I thought with Emily I’d found it. She’s articulate, beautiful, sexy, attracted to children, caring, considerate, funny, and now even a bit of a risk taker since I came into her life. How could I have read this so wrong?
It’s sunrise before I catch my first bit of shut eye, but Maddy and Eva soon learn that Uncle Chance slept over, and I’m being tickled awake by a six-year-old and an eight-year-old who can’t keep the giggles below a low roar.
I drag myself out of bed and join them for chocolate chip pancakes and orange juice.
“Did you sleep well?” Chuck asks.
“Sure, like a baby until these two termites came in and woke me up,” I joke and tickle the girls so much they beg for mercy.
“What are you planning?” Annette asks, still wanting much more information than I’m willing to share.
“I may still need another night or two in your spare room if that’s okay,” I say.
“Sure. Take as long as you need,” she answers and smiles. “You know, we’re good listeners if you want to talk.”
“Not quite yet. Maybe soon,” I promise, but I know I never will.
“I’m on the night shift tonight, so I’ll be in late.”
Chuck gets up and takes a key from the rack hanging near the refrigerator. “Here, take the front door key, so we don’t have to wait up.”
“Thanks,” I say. I’ll be glad not to have to face them and their questions again tonight.
My plan for before work includes a visit to a lawyer I’ve never met before. I found him online last night on my phone. He specializes in family law.
When I step into the office of Attorney Jefferson Landry, I’m thankful this first visit is a free consult because the place is so palatial that I don’t think I can afford his hourly rates and may have to look elsewhere for representation. Everything is glass, chrome, and modern. His secretary looks like she just stepped out of a Vogue magazine cover. I’m standing in khakis and a black T-shirt. I didn’t know I’d have to dress for the occasion.
Once I tell the attorney what transpired between Emily, without giving her name, and me last night, I ask him what my rights are.
“None,” he answers.
“None? Can’t I stop her from aborting? It’s my kid too.”
“New Hampshire statute says that you have no rights over the woman’s body, and it is her sole decision to terminate the pregnancy if she so desires. I’m not going to lead you on. You could see a dozen other qualified attorneys, and they will give you the same answer.”
“But that’s not fair.”
“It’s the law.”
“Can’t I—” I stop myself not knowing even what to ask.
“No, there’s nothing you can do legally. I’m sorry.”
I thank him for his time and shake his hand. My shoulders sink as I leave his office and pass his secretary on my way out. A brisk wind hits me in the face. It’s only now that I realize I’m crying.
Chapter Twenty-one
Emily
Dr. Allison Reid does remember me despite not seeing me for over six years. And because of a cancellation, she has time to see me today.
Her office location has changed. It’s in a more upscale section of town with new furnishings. She has a fleet of receptionists instead of just one, and I notice there are several other doctors and therapists working under her. It is her name, however, that’s on the business: Reid and Associates. She’s come a long way. Good for her. I always liked her and valued my time with her. She was someone I could talk to when my parents shut me out and Laurie just didn’t get what I was going through.
When she calls me into her office, she greets me with a warm hug instead of a handshake like she is meeting an old friend, and the feeling is mutual for me. Why have I stopped our visits? I guess I thought I had it all worked out. There is or was nothing more to discuss. Until now.
She’s thrilled to learn I’ve found Chance and glad that I’ve learned to take some risks in my life.
“After Susan’s accident, that was something you sorely lacked—risk-taking skills. Most kids go off to college and try any number of things that could get them in trouble or hurt or perhaps even killed because they think they’re invincible. But not you, Emily. You stayed close to home, commuted to classes, didn’t join a sorority, and didn’t take spring breaks to exotic beaches with co-eds.”
“I didn’t want anything more to happen to my parents.”
“I know. I know. But because of it, you missed out on some really fun times. Some great memories you could have had. It sounds like this Chance has gotten you past that. I’m glad for you.”
“I was too,” I say.
“Was? What’s happened?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Is it his child?” she asks me.
I blush. “Yes. Of course, we’re engaged and to be married in June. But I don’t want kids. I can’t. Not after what I did to
Susan.”
Dr. Reid pushes her chair away from her desk and slumps low into it. “Not that old refrain again. You can’t still be punishing yourself. She was three. It was an accident. You had no way to stop it.”
I break into sobs. She gets up from her chair and comes to me. I’m sitting in a loveseat. She bundles me in her arms as she has done for me so many times before, like I’d so often wished my mother had. She rubs my back and soothes me. Then she pulls away.
“Look at me. I think we should start seeing each other again. I think you need to work on this. But I will not see you if you plan to continue blaming yourself for something you had no control over.” She gets up and returns to her chair. “You need an affirmation: ‘It was not my fault.’ Do you remember that one?”
“I do,” I say remembering how she used to make me do deep breathing exercises while repeating “It was not my fault” for 5-10 minutes each day or anytime I got anxious.
“Well, it may be time to repeat that exercise I taught you years ago.”
“Okay,” I say.
“So tell me about the baby. What’s wrong?”
“Chance wants it. Wants us to have it, but I’m afraid something will happen like happened to Susan. So I plan to get rid of it.”
“Oh, Emily, kids are a crap shoot. I’ve got three of my own. One’s a Rhode’s Scholar, one’s a brain surgeon, and one lives homeless on the streets of San Diego. There’s no guarantee for anyone when it comes to having children. Just as there’s no guarantee that just because something terrible happened to Susan while you were there means it will happen to your kid too. That’s just nonsense. It could happen, but I won’t bet my house on it. Would you?”
I laugh. “You sure haven’t changed your ways. You told it like you saw it when I was a teenager, and you’re doing it still. I can’t believe it.”
She waves her arm around so that I look and take in the whole room. “That, my dear, is why I’ve got so many clients, I had to take on help and expand. Some people want a bullshit artist to talk with, but most people want someone who will tell them the truth. You need to know that Susan was a lovely gift of your past, who you will always love and remember. But she wouldn’t want you to stop you whole future just for her. She’d want you to be happy. If this man makes you happy, grab him.
