Tears in a Bottle

by Sylvia Bambola

  Becky opened the door to move to the backseat. She noticed Skip frantically jamming his hand into one pocket after another. Then he cursed.

  “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe how stupid I am. I left them in my other pants!”

  Becky closed the door. “All right, maybe we’ll sneak back later.”

  “Nothing will happen, Becky. I promise. Trust me.”

  “Are you insane? You think I’m going to have sex without a condom?”

  Skip made a frantic lunge toward the glove compartment and rummaged through it. In a matter of minutes he pulled out a small packet and smiled. “I almost forgot about this. Tommy told me to always keep an emergency stash.”

  Thor had been at the Brockston clinic for over an hour on a dual mission. He wanted to make certain his staff was cooperating with the new tech from Second Chance. He also wanted to check out the new tech himself. He liked the way Adam Bender operated. Thor had already watched Adam fill four purchase orders, mostly livers from fetal cadavers of twelve-weeks gestations, which Adam had carefully submerged in 4 percent paraformaldehyde with a cacodylate buffer, and several pair of eyes, which were safely in OPTISOL. He only had this one left, a twenty-three-week fetus, from which he was to extract both femurs and tibias, the spleen and thymus. Thor decided to watch the last harvest then head back to his office.

  Just as Adam raised his scalpel, Thor saw the small body in the metal pan move.

  “What the…hey…this fetus is alive!” Adam said.

  Immediately there was a flurry of activity. A white-clad attendant and another technician came over and looked.

  “The dreaded complication,” the attendant whispered and walked away.

  Thor continued watching the small body squirm in the pan and cursed.

  “I don’t do this!” Adam said as the baby gasped for air. “I don’t work on live babies!”

  The tech and attendant had disappeared, and Thor tried leading Adam away from the table. But Adam only became more anxious.

  “Somebody! Come here and help this…this baby!”

  Suddenly Dr. Newly stood beside them. “Keep him quiet. He’s alarming the patients.”

  “You brought me a live baby!”

  “Just calm down,” Thor said and pulled on Adam’s arm, but he wouldn’t budge.

  “That baby’s alive!”

  “It’s a good specimen,” Dr. Newly said. “It’s what you needed, a twenty-three-weeker. What’s the problem?”

  Thor glared at Newly. “You’re not helping any.”

  Adam backed away from the large metal table. “For heaven’s sake, man, can’t you see it’s moving!”

  Dr. Newly bent closer to the pan. “So it is.” He went to the linen closet, pulled out several large terrycloth towels, then dropped them on top of the pan. “But not for long,” he said and walked out. Adam scrambled behind him.

  Thor reached for the towels, then stopped and also fled the room. By the time he got to the bathroom, Adam was kneeling over the toilet, throwing up. Thor helped him to his feet, then brought him over to the sink.

  “You’re a pro,” Thor said as Adam splashed water on his face. “You’ve got to act like one. You know in our business this happens sometimes. It’s part of the job.”

  Adam dried his face and said nothing. Thor followed him back to the specimen room and watched Adam collect his containers. He never looked at the towel-covered pan.

  “Go have a cup of coffee and settle down.”

  Adam breezed by him and out the room.

  “Will you settle down? Just go and.” Thor followed Adam past Flo’s office and indicated with a jerk of his head for Flo to come out. They stopped Adam at the front door.

  “Are you all right?” Flo asked Adam, but her eyes were riveted on Thor.

  Adam Bender turned toward the concerned face framed by cotton-ball-white hair.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  Adam shook his head. Already some of the ladies in the waiting room were staring. Thor gestured for them to go out the front door. When they did they saw a large group of people on the sidewalk. Many of them held posters of bloody babies. Others stood quietly praying. Thor positioned himself between them and Adam.

  “He’s crazy! He’s absolutely crazy! Somebody should do something about him,” Adam blurted.

  Flo groaned. “Dr. Newly? Tell me it’s not Dr. Newly.”

  “He killed…he killed a baby! I saw him. He just killed it, just threw some towels over it and…killed it.”

  Thor looked around nervously. “Lower your voice.” Then he turned to Flo. “A dreaded complication.”

  “What?”

  “You’re not going to call the police, are you?” Thor asked.

  Adam gave him a strange look. “You want to protect him?”

  “No, just the clinic. I want Newly out, but I don’t want to hurt the clinic doing it.”

  “A thing like this could really damage us.” Flo moved closer to Adam, her hand resting on his shoulder.

  Adam cursed under his breath. “I’m a little disappointed, Flo. I thought you, at least, were for the girls, on their side.”

  “I am. But how can we help them if we’re closed?”

  “Go home and relax. Give yourself a chance to calm down. You’ll see there’s nothing to be gained by calling the police,” Thor said.

  Adam hesitated. “I’ll think about it.” Then he flew down the stairs, clutching his specimens and moving in a wide arc around the picketers.

  Maggie raced down the hall of her apartment and opened the front door. She shoved the envelope with her rent payment into the small black mailbox over the doorbell, then rummaged in her purse for the car keys. She seldom got to the Center after eight, and it was already eight-thirty. She had stayed out late with Kirt, much later than she had planned. Three-thirty and they were still on the park bench talking. He was so easy to talk to, and they had so much to talk about.

  She knew she was going to be dragging all day. She smiled. It was worth it. If the truth were known, she would have sat on that bench until morning. But it was Kirt, the practical one, who insisted on bringing her home.

  She walked briskly down the sidewalk and was about to turn the corner into the parking lot when she noticed a black BMW slowing beside her. When she spun around, the BMW stopped and the door opened. A slender, dark-haired woman stepped out.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the woman said. “But I waited for you last night. I waited until midnight, then I left. I’m sorry. But I really need to talk. Should I make an appointment? I don’t know what to do. I just need to talk…to you.”

  Maggie noticed the expensive leather shoes, the two heavy gold bracelets, the large diamond ring. “Do I know you?”

  The woman shook her head. “I…I need to talk. Will you give me a little of your time?”

  Maggie moved closer. “Do you know me?”

  The woman nodded. “You’re Maggie Singer, director of the Life Center.”

  Maggie smiled and reached for her hand. “Why don’t you follow me to the Center? I’ll fix you some coffee and we’ll talk.”

  “No, not the Center. I couldn’t go there. Please, someplace else. Anyplace you say, but not the Center.”

  Maggie looked at her watch, then into the woman’s eyes. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “Okay, we can go to my place. It’s right back there.”

  Maggie retraced her steps to the apartment, quietly praying all the way. By the time she inserted the key into the door, she felt the peace of God fill her. She ushered the stranger into her small kitchen and invited her to take a seat. “Coffee or tea?”

  “No…nothing. I’m sorry to put you out, really. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Maggie began brewing coffee, making it extra strong. Finally she sat down next to her guest.

  “I’m Teresa,” the stranger said slowly. “Teresa Emerson.”

  “Dr. Emerson’s wife?”

  Teresa nodded. �
�I’ve been debating for days whether to come here or not. I feel really silly, embarrassed. You must think I’m a mad woman.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m having trouble sleeping. All I do is think. And the questions—I can’t get the questions out of my head. It’s hard when you’ve been married for fourteen years and then it’s over. It’s like you’re not all there. I mean you’re there, but only partly there. Am I making any sense?”

  Maggie shook her head.

  “I know. I’m babbling. I’m sorry. I’m not myself. It’s shattering to leave someone…someone you love.”

  “You’ve left your husband?”

  “I had to. I didn’t want to. You understand?”

  Maggie nodded.

  “But now I’m so messed up. I just can’t stop thinking about him. Not that I could do anything for him. I can’t help him. I can barely help myself. That’s the problem. I need to get my life back.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I have so many questions. And they’re all running into each other. Someone I know said you might be able to answer them.”

  “What questions?”

  “This friend read an article somewhere, an article about abortion…actually about abortion providers. She said that abortion hurts them. I mean does things to them. I mean…”

  Maggie placed her hand over Teresa’s. “Your friend was right.”

  “I hope you’re a person who can be trusted…who doesn’t say things…I mean tells…”

  “Whatever you say here is confidential. I’ll not tell anyone.”

  “It’s Thor, my husband. He’s so unhappy. I want to know it’s not because of me. I need to know…because he has other women. I’m sure I didn’t drive him away. But I can’t really be sure, can I? He’s so unhappy. He works too hard, always trying to prove himself, but then he gambles so much of it away. It’s doesn’t make sense, does it? And I so desperately need it to make sense. Sometimes I think I understand. I think I’ve got it all figured out and then it gets all jumbled in my head and I get confused and then I start thinking it’s all my fault and then…”

  Maggie squeezed Teresa’s hand. My grief is beyond healing; my heart is broken. Listen to the weeping of my people; it can be heard all across the land. “Abortion affects everyone involved. Those who get them and their families; those who provide them and their families.”

  Teresa dabbed her eyes with her fingers. “Yes, that’s what my friend was saying.” Maggie pulled out a napkin from the blue ceramic holder on the table and handed it to her. “What…what are some of the things that happen?”

  “If you want, I have a book you can borrow that will explain everything I’m telling you, but in greater detail. Generally speaking, most abortion providers are unhappy. They suffer from anger, depression, fatigue, low self-esteem.”

  Teresa nodded. “Thor is angry all the time. And he’s afraid. Afraid he’ll end up a failure like all the other Brockstons. He’s always had that fear. Even before he started doing abortions. We used to talk about it all the time. We used to talk…a lot. Before…we talked a lot.”

  “Maybe his insecurity paved the way. The desire for control and money, the desire to succeed, all compelling forces that could’ve made his decision to become an abortionist easier.”

  “I tried to talk him out of it. I wanted him to go into general practice. Open a little office somewhere. But he told me my thinking was too small. He wanted to open up a chain.” Teresa laughed sadly. “He always did love business more than medicine.”

  “Does he drink?”

  Teresa shook her head. “No. Why?”

  “Because compulsive behavior is common: drinking, drugging, gambling.”

  “He gambles. A lot. He owes so much money to Lou—he owes a lot of money. But I never made the connection. I never thought there was one.”

  “These are deeply damaged people, Teresa. Hurting people who are desperate to forget, to erase from their memory the reality of what they’re doing. Sometimes they subconsciously want to destroy themselves, so they choose drugs or alcohol or gambling. And some of them choose suicide.”

  “Suicide?” Teresa’s eyes grew large. “I never thought…I never considered Thor capable of suicide.”

  “All destructive behavior is a form of suicide.”

  “I’ve tried to help him, tried to talk to him.”

  “Is he difficult to talk to?”

  “Very.”

  “Maybe he’s closed down already. In time, they do. They become desensitized, dehumanized, and finally close down emotionally.”

  “He closed down to Eric long ago.”

  “Eric?”

  “Our son. He’s in boarding school.” Maggie noticed the tender look on Teresa’s face. “Thor never goes to see him. He used to. But not now. It’s been…years…at least three years since Thor went to Oxlee. And he allows Eric to come home only for holidays, the major ones like Christmas and Easter. I’ve begged him…but only the major holidays. It’s like he can’t stand the sight of his own child.”

  “Does Thor have nightmares?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Many of them do. Many of them say they see babies and blood in their sleep. Many have insomnia because of it.”

  “No. I don’t think so, not Thor.”

  Maggie rose. The coffee was finally ready. She poured herself a cup, leaving out the customary cream. “You sure you don’t want some?”

  Teresa shook her head. “I still don’t understand why he cheats. And it seems like he wants me to know, that he wants to get caught. Like he’s flaunting it in my face. Sometimes & sometimes they even call the house.” Teresa’s voice broke.

  Maggie sat down next to her. “Often abortionists become hostile and resentful toward their patients. They’re angry with them. They blame the women who come to them for making them do the abortion, for getting pregnant in the first place. Some even develop a deep disrespect and hatred for women.”

  “Yes, I think that’s happened to Thor. The way he talks, yes, sometimes I think he dislikes…hates his patients. I’ve told him so. But what does that have to do with him having so many affairs?”

  “Some abortionists will go out of their way to degrade their patients—to punish them, in a sense. Inappropriate speech, sexual assault, molestation, and even rape at abortion clinics are not uncommon, and all are punitive actions by the abortionist or his staff. This desire to degrade women can spill over into their personal lives. Some abuse their wives, some cheat.”

  Teresa began to cry. “It hurts so much. I know it shouldn’t anymore, but it does.”

  Maggie leaned over and embraced her. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “He just doesn’t see it. I’ve talked to him a thousand times about it, but he just doesn’t understand.”

  “They rationalize, Teresa.” Maggie released her. “They become masters at rationalization.”

  “How you must hate him. How you must hate all of them…the providers. They call you such horrible names, say such awful things.”

  “I don’t hate your husband or any of them. I just hate what they do.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Teresa stared at Maggie for a long time. “Maybe…maybe you are telling the truth about the hating part. But right now, I think I hate you, just a little. Because you and the others, the other pro-lifers, you understand what’s going on, what happens to the doctors and staff…how they suffer…how they make their families suffer, and yet you never tried to help Thor. You never tried to help, did you?”

  Maggie nodded. “Yes. Every day when I pray for him, when I ask God to show your husband the truth about what he’s doing, to show your husband that he was not made for this kind of life, for such an ignoble purpose.”

  Teresa reached over to the napkin holder and pulled out another one and began dabbing her eyes. “Can God…can God ever forgive someone like Thor?”

  “Yes. If Thor wants forgiveness. Nothing is impossible for God.”


  “I’m not very religious. I had some church when I was young, but it didn’t really stick. I never thought it was important. Now…well, maybe I’d like to try it again.”

  “Then meet me here Sunday morning, ten to nine, and I’ll take you to mine. It’s a little Baptist church around the corner. It has a wonderful pastor, and the people—you’ll love them.”

  “You mean it?”

  Maggie smiled. “I never say things I don’t mean.”

  “Adam’s pretty shaken, Thor. And he’s the best in the business. I’ve given you the best because I know how big and how important this contract is to both of us. But he says he doesn’t want to go back to your Brockston clinic. Now what can be done?”

  Thor Emerson took a deep breath. “Is he going to the police?”

  Carl Langley laughed into the phone. “I’ve discouraged that. Persuaded him it wasn’t the best course of action. Not good for him, not good for us. So no need to worry there. But what you should worry about is getting your facility under control. If my techs are so rattled they can’t do their work, how’s that going to be good for business? You know what I mean? You need to ensure that this kind of thing doesn’t happen again. Instruct your staff to take care of all complications prior to delivering the specimens to my techs. It shouldn’t be that difficult, Thor, to establish procedure. And if you have any loose guns on deck, it would be wise to rid yourself of them.”

  “You mean Newly?”

  “You know what they say about bad apples infecting the bunch. Rotten things smell; smells attract attention.”

  “Well…I’ll try—”

  “And one more thing. It’s bad business, Thor, to get fined by the Health Department. Makes clients nervous. Makes them think you’re running a slipshod outfit, unable to provide quality specimens.”

  Thor stopped his pacing and sat down on the leather sofa. Suddenly he felt very tired. “Carl, I can make things right. You’re not to worry.”

  “Remember what I said at the onset? Once I pull a contract, it stays pulled.”

  “No need for that kind of talk. I’ll straighten everything out. You’ll see.”