She looks like a grinning imbecile. Becky looked around at the others. No one smiled. But that didn’t seem to deter Maggie.
“Who wants coffee?” Maggie carried the coffeepot over to where the girls sat and began pouring coffee into each cup.
Is this supposed to show that she just loves everybody, and that love, love, love will make everything go away? But Becky could see that the women were beginning to relax.
Maggie took the one empty chair. “Since we have a new member with us, I’d like for each of us to introduce ourselves and give as much or as little information as you feel comfortable giving. This way we can get a sense of who’s here, where we’re from, and maybe, if you want, how things are going for you since your abortion. Most of you didn’t share last time, and maybe you’ll feel better about sharing today. I’d like to go first, if you don’t mind. And then we can move clockwise around the room.”
Becky anxiously counted the chairs. She was number three. What was she going to say? Not one single solitary word if she didn’t want to.
“My name is Maggie Singer, I’m thirty-five, single, never been married. I had one abortion when I was twenty, and I’m just now really getting over it, by God’s grace.”
Becky straightened in her chair. This holy roller had an abortion?
“My pregnancy was a real shock. We—my boyfriend at that time and I—had always used protection. I didn’t know then that among young people condoms fail over 20 percent of the time.”
Becky gulped air.
“I didn’t know the Lord then, when I was twenty. I believed that science and education held the answers to all of man’s problems. I also believed in the innate goodness of man. And back then, nobody told the truth about abortion. Abortions had been legal for over thirteen years when I had mine, and it was very politically correct. No one ever said anything negative about them. It just wasn’t done. I had never heard one word about post abortion syndrome, about how many women’s bodies were mutilated by the violence of an abortion procedure, or that 25 percent of women who abort their first pregnancies will never have another child.”
Becky leaned over the table toward Maggie. Why does she have to speak in such a soft voice?
“My abortion did not go well. The doctor lacerated my uterus. That night I called him with severe abdominal pain. He said it was normal and to just rest. Two days later I was hospitalized and underwent emergency surgery. I had a hole in my uterus and vagina, and significant intestinal and pelvic inflammation. The surgeon also had to remove…a mass of dead fetal tissue from my abdomen. The doctor had to do a complete hysterectomy in order to save my life.”
Two girls began to cry softly, and one just put her head down on the table. Becky blinked back her own tears. She had overheard the doctor in the hospital say if her bleeding didn’t stop he’d have to operate. How close did I come to never being able to have another child?
Maggie took a sip of her coffee. “When I was finally discharged, I tried to commit suicide. I overdosed on sleeping pills the doctor had given me for my insomnia. That meant another trip back to the hospital.”
Two more girls began to cry. Becky could see large ugly scars running across the wrists of one of them.
“But my story doesn’t end here. I want you to know it has a happy ending. Thirteen years ago, after my second suicide attempt, I came to know Jesus. I came to know the One who will never leave me or forsake me, the One who knows me for what I am and loves me anyway. The One who can reach into the depths of a soul and heal all the hurt that’s in it. The One who can give you new life and new hope. It is my desire…my prayer…that before this twelve-week session is over, you’ll come to know Him too.”
Becky sank back into her chair. She looked at Maggie and tried to reconcile the story she had just heard with the joy and love she saw radiating from her face. All Becky’s life she had heard her father scoff at the televangelists, scoff and hoot at them, saying the only thing they were interested in was money. Is this a con?
Maggie reached over to the woman sitting to her left and gently covered her hand with her own. “Would you like to share now?”
The woman’s name was Evelyn. She looked much older than Becky, close to forty, maybe more, it was hard for Becky to tell. Evelyn kept her head dropped most of the time, even when she spoke. She never made eye contact with the others.
Becky leaned closer to Evelyn, trying to catch every word, hardly aware that her own heart was racing or that her breathing was quick, shallow.
“About four years ago, my husband and I separated. We had one son, then, who was eight. For a few months we tried getting back together. He ran around like he was still a kid, going to bars with the boys and…I knew he had other women. So after giving it one last try, I realized it was hopeless, that my husband wasn’t going to grow up and I didn’t really want to raise two ‘boys,’ so I filed for divorce. Right about that time I found out I was pregnant. Nine years with Mark had given me enough experience to know that he couldn’t be counted on for support, no matter what the judge said. So I was on my own. Completely. I was already working two jobs just to keep a roof over our heads. I knew I couldn’t stop now, not if I wanted to survive. It would take every ounce of strength I had and every dollar I could earn if I was going to be a successful single mom. There was no way I could have another baby. I never even told Mark about the baby, so I couldn’t blame him, later, when things got bad for me.
“The pain was terrible. They said it wouldn’t hurt, that I didn’t need anesthesia, but I cried and screamed on that table. I thought I was going to die. By the time they were finished, I had. I knew something inside me died that day.
“I drank really heavy after that, just to try to forget. When that didn’t help, I began using drugs. All the drinking and drugs eventually got me fired from both of my jobs. I couldn’t blame them. I was pretty useless and I was messing up my work and that meant someone else had to come behind me and redo it.
“I had a pretty nice job during the day. I really liked it. I worked in an accounting office as a typist and file clerk, but they liked my work and were going to train me as a bookkeeper and give me a promotion…until the drinking and…everything. That’s the one I lost first.
“My second job, my night job, was in retail, behind the perfume counter in one of those big mall stores. Eventually, I started taking a few bottles of perfume home with me at night, to pay for the drugs and alcohol, and when I was caught, they fired me. I was lucky, because they didn’t press charges, and they could have.
“By then I had these two huge habits I couldn’t support, never mind a child. I was finally evicted because I couldn’t pay the rent, and eventually Social Services stepped in and took my son away and put him in foster care because nobody could find Mark. By then I believed I didn’t deserve any children anyway, so I didn’t even fight it. I was high all the time, and I really don’t want to talk about how I got the money for all the alcohol and drugs.
“My son’s twelve now and I’ve missed four years of his life. Four years I’ll never get back. I’ve been off drugs and alcohol for almost five months, and I have a little job in a hardware store doing their bookwork and filing. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s a start. I want my son back…and I know I have to show Social Services I can hold a job and stay away from the drugs and alcohol. But I have a real chance now, because the social worker told me so.
“The problem is, I still feel the pain of what I did. Every day’s a struggle and some days I think it’d be easier to just go back to boozing and drugging. I need to get a grip on this thing because I’m afraid of what I might do, that I might slip back into the old life. I don’t want to put my son through that again. I don’t want anyone to ever take him away from me again. But I need help. A friend of mine told me about this place, how much it helped her, so here I am. I figured maybe I can get my life back on track, get my son’s life back on track too.”
Evelyn finally looked up. Her eyes were hard and crimson
from crying.
Maggie smiled kindly at Evelyn. “I’m so glad you’re here. I believe in a God of miracles, and I believe He wants to do one for you and your son, if you’ll let Him, and if you’ll do your part.”
Evelyn pulled out a tissue from her purse and dabbed her tears, but Becky could see a faint smile on Evelyn’s lips.
Becky straightened in her chair when she saw that all eyes were on her now. She felt embarrassed, nervous, excited. She jutted her chin and looked around the room. By the time she opened her mouth, her chin didn’t jut so far, and her head began to drop ever so slightly. Her mouth remained open for some time, but nothing came out. She compressed her lips, took a deep breath, and tried again. Still nothing. Finally, she covered her face with her hands and began to cry. No one spoke.
When she finally looked up, she knew mascara had smeared down under her eyes. She knew because of the black smudges on her wet fingers, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care what she looked like. She opened her mouth, and words that sounded as wet as her tears finally came out.
“I hate myself.”
When Becky got home she found her parents sitting in the living room, tight-faced.
“How did it go?” her father said.
Becky shrugged, then walked to the stairs.
“We’ve been waiting for you to come home, honey. Can’t you tell us just a little of what went on?”
Becky had started upstairs to her room, but stopped and faced her parents. “I hate you—I hate you both so much!”
Thor had barely taken off his jacket when the phone rang. He stood next to his California king bed, debating whether or not to let the answering machine take the call. He had wanted to do a few quick laps in the pool before dinner. Four o’clock Sunday afternoon. Who could be calling now? On the third ring, he yanked the phone from its cradle.
“Hello?” There was static on the other end. He switched hands and put the phone to his other ear. “Hello?”
He was about to hang up when he heard a soft, female voice.
“Thank you.”
“Teresa?”
“Yes. I just wanted to thank you, Thor, for Eric. I got the papers today. I couldn’t believe…well, thank you. You kept your word.”
“You didn’t leave me much choice.”
“I’m sorry I had to behave like that, using threats and all, but sometimes, Thor, you are so unreasonable—”
“If you want to do some husband bashing forget it. I just got home and I’m whipped already.”
“Ex-husband. I just signed the papers. It’s ex now and no, I don’t want to do any bashing. I just wanted to say thank you. It means so much.” Thor heard his wife’s voice break, then soft crying.
“It’s a shame things had to work out like this.”
“Yes. I’m sorry too.”
“It wasn’t my idea. Just remember that.”
“Are you lonely, Thor?”
Thor watched rain streak down his bedroom window. “How’s Eric?”
“He’s fine. He won an award. Took first place in the class science project.”
“He’s smart, like his dad.”
“Yes…he asked for you. Wanted to know if you’d be coming to pick him up this year.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him you were busy and that I’d be coming alone.”
“You didn’t tell him about the divorce?”
“No, I wanted to do that in person.”
Thor pulled a pair of burgundy lace-up trunks from his bottom drawer, then began unbuttoning his shirt. “You coddle him too much. You should’ve just come right out with it.”
“He’s still a little boy, Thor, he needs—”
“He’s eleven. Time to grow up and learn the facts of life.” He could hear Teresa sigh and for a moment thought she’d hang up. Strange how he didn’t want her to, how he wished she were here right now, in the room with him.
“I don’t want to argue,” she finally said.
“Okay, so we won’t. When are you picking him up?”
“Wednesday. Eric’s last class is that morning.”
“You driving up the night before?”
“Yes.”
“Remember that old roadside inn where we used to have lunch?”
“Our halfway house to Oxlee?”
“You used to laugh a lot on those trips, Teresa.”
“So did you.”
Thor looked at the four-poster mahogany bed, at the matching dresser and armoire with its inlaid wood marquetry. “How come you didn’t take any of the bedroom furniture?”
“Because you love it so much. Remember how it took you three months to find just the right seeded glass lamps for the nightstands?”
“Seems kind of silly now, doesn’t it?”
Teresa sighed. “I think Eric will take it hard. I’ve put off thinking about it. I’ll figure out something Tuesday night, after work, when I head for Oxlee.”
“After work?” He slipped out of his suit pants and into the cargo surfer. “Since when did you get a job?”
“I’ve been working for over a month now, as a secretary.”
“You never mentioned—”
“No. I guess I didn’t want you to know about it until this divorce was over.”
“What did you think I’d do exactly?”
“You know how you are.”
“Well…just be careful going through the mountains. We’ve had a lot of rain and there may be some mud slides or maybe even—”
“You actually sound concerned. Like you really mean what you’re saying.”
“There you go, bashing again.”
“I’m not bashing. I find it…well…sad, and…touching.”
“You do? I mean, the touching part?” Thor walked to the closet to hang up his suit.
“It’s nice to be thought of, to have someone show concern. Thor…I’ve been going to church. Don’t laugh, I know it’s been so long since I’ve been in one, but it’s helped me a lot. I mean, I feel better about things. And I’ve been praying for you…that you’d do the right thing. You’ll never have peace, Thor, until you turn yourself—”
Thor threw the jacket and pants on the floor. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still weak, still looking for a crutch. All right, if that’s what you need, okay, just don’t try pushing that stuff on me, Teresa. And for your information, the only reason I was concerned at all, if you can call it that, is because I can’t afford to have anything happen to you. You have certain…documents that I don’t want anyone to see, so I plan on you outliving me. And one more thing—just remember our bargain. You’ve got what you wanted—you have Eric. But if you go changing your mind and decide to share those documents with someone—like the police, for instance—so help me, Teresa, I’ll have you killed. And you know I can do it. If you try to take me down, I’ll take you down first.”
Thor could hear a soft gasp.
“Okay, Thor. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all. For keeping your word. Good-bye.”
The phone went dead, and for the longest time Thor held the receiver in his hand listening to the irritating dial tone. Finally, he walked from the closet to the bed and hung it up. When he did, he was stunned by the unbearable silence.
Maggie lounged on the floral down sofa nibbling a large Red Delicious apple and reading an Agatha Christie novel. She loved Sundays. She could spend the morning at church, in praise and worship with other believers, then the rest of the day luxuriating in things she didn’t have much time for during the rest of the week, like reading and cooking. Any minute now she was going to head into the kitchen and try out that new recipe Agnes had given her: orange lamb stuffed with mint and pecans. Maggie cooked only on weekends and usually made enough to last the week, otherwise it was fast food, which she detested.
She bookmarked her novel, then stretched out on the couch. The only thing missing from her day was Kirt. She had not heard from him all week exce
pt for one card. On the outside of the card was supposed to be a picture of a lion in a jungle, but it actually looked more like a housecat sitting between two giant ferns. Inside it said, “Wild about you.” Where does he find these?
When the phone rang, she jumped from the couch.
“Hello!” Kirt’s happy, energetic voice boomed over the line. “I got your message to call.”
“Kirt. I was just thinking about you.”
“All good thoughts, I hope.”
“Every one.”
“Did you get my card?”
Maggie glanced at it on the coffee table and smiled. “Where do you ever find them?”
“No good?”
“Perfect, just like you.”
“I’m glad you called. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
“I know. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and praying.”
“About?”
“About how you’re the best man I’ve ever known. About how all things are possible with God.”
“Really? That means you’re missing me, and that’s a good sign.”
Maggie eased herself back onto the couch. Her stomach was doing butterflies. She hadn’t expected to be so nervous. “Actually, I’m missing you terribly, and I was thinking I don’t want to miss you anymore, ever.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Of course there’s only one way I can think of to prevent that.”
“Me too.” Maggie held her breath.
“You’ll have to marry me now, for sure. I mean, I’m not in my apartment. I’m sitting in my office and decided to check my messages and that’s when I heard yours. Anyway, you’re talking to a duly elected representative of your state and that makes everything official. So, no taking anything back.”
“No, I won’t take it back.”
“You’re serious?”
“Absolutely.”
“So you’re going to marry me?”
“Yes.” The word sounded so simple, Maggie wondered why it had taken her so long to say it. But there was silence at the other end of the phone. “Having second thoughts?”
Kirt finally said, “Never,” and Maggie heard the break in his voice.
Tears in a Bottle Page 18
