by L. L. Akers
“I swiped it out of the refrigerator when Mom was at work. I’m sorry, Tim,” Gabby lied.
“Okay, I’m going to let you slide this one time. But don’t think just because we’re neighbors I won’t write you up for underage drinking, young lady,” he answered firmly.
“Yes, sir. It won’t happen again. I didn’t like it anyway. Made me feel sick,” Gabby answered, thankful to avoid a ticket she really couldn’t afford to pay.
“You’re welcome. But I think it’s best if you go on to bed before I call in the uniforms.”
“I was going to bed anyway. I already know how this story ends,” Gabby said sadly, glancing at her mom as she walked down the hall to hide in her room, disappointed. She wasn’t a naïve teenager; she’d lived all this before with her mom, and now here she was, standing right back at the beginning of the story, written all over again with a new main character. She wished for her dad to come back—at least with him she didn’t have to worry about protecting her sister.
Gabby lay in her top bunk crying, not just for her mom, who was freaking hopeless, but for Emma. And now for her baby. She had purposely tried not to put too much thought into it too soon. She wanted to take it slow and make the right decisions, but she knew from day one that she could never bring her baby into this home with Mark here. But for just a minute, before Mom had jumped to Mark’s defense, Gabby had let herself have a sliver of hope that after they took Mark away, Mom would let her and the baby stay here and would help her. She could see now, Mark wasn’t going anywhere. If Mom was able to excuse that attack so quickly—within minutes—actions that could have killed her, and then even take the blame upon herself, she would continue to do so and it would escalate. Gabby just couldn’t understand how Mom could preach that exact sermon to Olivia about Billy, but not see that it applied to all men. If you take it, they’ll keep giving it. There should be no second chances.
Tired of thinking, and wishing she was talking to Jake instead of her own head, she drifted off to sleep hugging her pillow, missing him and his big shoulder to cry on.
The Girl in the Box
She tries to shed the drowsiness, like a too-tight blanket, when she feels something rub against her face and realizes that something is in her box, with her in the pitch dark.
She screams and tries to lift her arms to fend it off. She is pinned down, and her reactions are dulled. Lord, help me! I can’t fight anything off like this! She shakes her head from side to side, trying to shake out the cobwebs of sleep to clear her mind. Something manages to slip in her mouth.
Drugs! That’s why I cannot stay awake or keep hold of my thoughts when I’m awake, she thinks. He must be slipping them into my mouth every time I fall back to sleep, keeping me constantly drugged.
She works her mouth around it to spit it out, but before she can, she tastes chocolate. She immediately stills her head and stops fighting. She realizes her mouth is no longer dry and parched. She quickly swallows. She doesn’t fight him. Her starved tongue begs for more of the rich taste, producing saliva in hope and anticipation; she waits quietly with her mouth open.
For her submission, she is rewarded with a few more bites of the smooth chocolate-tasting mixture, trying to savor the flavor in her mouth as long as she can before her stomach snatches it from her throat in its hurriedness to be fed.
She is more alert now.
She’d read about the phenomenon. Her captor had been withholding the luxury of food and water until she was desperate enough to be grateful to him for any small human decency. But she could go along with this mock-cooperation long enough to fuel her energy. And when he expected her to trade her body in return for his gift, she’d be in better shape to fight him off. Bring it on, you bastard.
Like a bird, she obediently opens her mouth after every swallow. When there is a long pause and she realizes disappointedly there is no more food coming, a straw is placed in her mouth, allowing her to drink.
Oh my God, she thinks, water never tasted so good. She sucks and swallows long gulps until it is slowly pulled away, her mouth still clinging to the straw, and her head leaning with it as it goes farther and farther away, until she can’t move anymore and the straw is abruptly removed from her mouth.
Now he will strike, she thinks as she swallows the last mouthful of water, and I’m not giving it away.
Adrenaline rushes through her.
“Let me go, you bastard!” she screams, trying to struggle out of the restraints that hold down her arms. She tries to kick toward where she thinks the food and water came from—he must still be in here with her—and finds her legs are bound too. Still he doesn’t speak or touch her again.
“What do you want from me? Haven’t you humiliated me enough? Please let me go!” she begs, starting to sob. “I haven’t seen you yet. I’ve seen nothing! You can still let me go,” she pleads into the darkness, defenselessly tied down, waiting in terror for his invasion of her body. Surely that must be what this is all about, she thinks. Why abduct a woman if you’re not going to rape and torture her?
She holds her breath, waiting for him to strike, to give her a clue exactly where he is so she can fight. Her body becomes rigid and she begins to shake with the tension, her teeth chattering... still not a sound. She can still hear him and smell the maleness of him around her. She becomes even more frightened of his silence than his intentions.
She jerks her head from side to side, trying to pinpoint which way he’d be coming from, beginning to feel the soreness from the shaking and struggle settle into her muscles, promising more pain from the stiffness later. She feels a sharp pinch in her arm and tries to jerk it away, but the binds hold and all she can do is struggle helplessly. The sting that follows the pinch is worse.
“What are you doing to me? Please stop... let... me... go—”
CHAPTER 15
“Jake! I’m so glad to see you!” Gabby shouted out the French doors overlooking the parking lot before Jake even had both boots out of his truck.
Gabby turned around, excitedly heading out the door to meet him, running down the steps and throwing her arms around his neck before he’d made it to the stairwell. She felt her world brighten just because he’d stepped into it. His humbleness and spotless life represented everything she wasn’t, and she wanted to hold on to him and never let him go.
“Great day, girl. It’s only been since night before last I was here. What’s got into you?” Jake said, laughing and hugging Gabby back. “You could have fallen and hurt yourself or the baby running down them stairs like that!”
“I know, Jake. But I got something to tell you. It’s been a rough twenty-four hours,” Gabby explained. She sighed. “I got drunk last night. Mark asked me to go with him to close up the bar and I got talked into my first shot. After that, they didn’t have to talk hard for the other five or six. That stuff tasted real good the first time around, but I don’t ever plan to do it again. I’m sorry I went out and was drinking without you,” Gabby admitted, wanting to get that out of the way right off.
“Shoot, is that all? That’s okay, babe. I know you got a lot on your mind right now. I don’t mind if you go out without me, as long as you ain’t drinking and driving. Well, and maybe you’d better wait to do any more drinking until you ain’t pregnant anymore too,” Jake said.
“You’re not mad?”
“Heck no, Gabby. You’re almost a grown woman now. I ain’t gonna tell you what you can and can’t do. You’ll have to figure that out for yourself, honey,” Jake answered, squeezing her hand.
Gabby just looked at him in disbelief. She’d never been around another relationship where the man didn’t try to tell the woman what she could or couldn’t do. The thought never occurred to her that if she committed to Jake, or anyone, that she wouldn’t have to let them have the final say, that she could make up her own mind. She smiled back at Jake and hugged him again.
“Well, let’s go up yonder to your room, and you can tell me all about your excitin’ night,” Jake s
aid, rolling his country-boy southern drawl off his tongue that Gabby found absolutely delicious, and she thought, if given the chance, she could listen to it forever.
“Shee-it, Gabby! Tim actually pulled a gun on him?” Jake asked in disbelief. Gabby had filled him in on most of the details of the night before getting home, which consisted of sitting at the Mutant Lounge, surrounded by smelly, old alcoholics and used-up women, and getting drunk. Then she’d moved on to the interesting part.
“He did, and he looked like he was going to have to use it in about ten more seconds. I didn’t think anything was going to get Mark’s attention away from Mom, but that gun did. Maybe Mark’s had experience on that end of a gun before.”
“Well, I know they were havin’ problems, but I never thought he’d hurt her,” Jake said, shaking his head.
“What? What problems?”
“Him and your mama. They been fussin’ since I started comin’ around here.”
“Jake, what are you talking about? I’ve never heard them even argue before—ever.”
“Oh, I have, Gabby. Lots of times. When we’re in your room and you talk yourself right to sleep, sometimes I lay still, not wanting to wake you, and hear ‘em through the wall. I guess they think I’m sleepin’ too. Several times in a middle of a fuss, your mama would send Mark over to wake me up and send me home.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Not my business to talk about... and I thought you knew. I had no idea she was keepin’ it from you. But now that he’s done went and laid hands on her, I’m making it my business. Here in the South, only the weak pick on women. He won’t be doing that while I’m around.”
“What do they fight about? Do you mind telling me?” Gabby asked.
“Well, I think it must be another woman. I can’t exactly hear what your mama says to start out, before their voices turn to yellin’, but I’ve heard Mark say over and over again that he swears he didn’t touch her and usually his voice starts to gettin’ louder when your mama doesn’t answer him back. He keeps askin’ her why she can’t get over it. He gets pretty mad, sayin’ she can’t keep bringin’ up the past once they done worked through it.”
“Jake, that’s not about another woman; that’s about Emma! Mom must have her doubts about him after all. That’s good. Maybe I don’t have to worry about her leaving him and Emma alone anymore. Emma is coming home this week and I’ve been worried to death about it. I need my time away too. I know I’ve enjoyed it with you this summer.”
“Well, have you decided what to do about the baby yet?” Jake asked, squeezing her hand.
“No, I’m still thinking.”
“Gabby, you know I’ll help you all I can, if you want to raise that baby. But I can’t make any promises about how much I’ll be around because I want you to do what you want to do, without considering me at all. Pretend I’m not in the picture and do what you’d do if that was the case. But just know, whatever you decide, I’ll stand behind your decision.”
“Thanks, Jake. I appreciate that. You don’t know how much,” Gabby said, near tears.
“I told my mama about you, Gabby. I told her she’d love you and you’re in a heckuva mess. Mama said my cousin got in the same way last year and talked to some fancy lawyer right here in town. This guy works with people who can’t have kids on their own and helps them adopt babies. I got you the number just in case that was something you been considerin’—but don’t think I’m pushin’ you toward that. I just promised Mama I’d pass it along.”
“Adoption? I never even thought about that option. It sure sounds better than an abortion. I can already feel this baby inside me... It’s a real life, Jake, with a tiny beating heart. I just don’t think I could do it.”
Jake nodded. “Mama said it’s all in your own personal beliefs. Some people say it ain’t right to blame the baby—and get rid of it. But other people believe it’s a choice, not a sin, Gabby. You have to decide what you believe for yourself.”
Gabby realized in all their talking, they’d never talked about their beliefs. She needed to set that straight right away.
“Me and Olivia got saved as little girls, in a one-room church, in a very small town. They didn’t have much there, just a tiny post office. On the counter was a small white box with a hinged door and a big red button on top. When you pushed the red button, the door swung open and a tongue-shaped sponge popped out, like a jack-in-the-box. It was wet, to moisten your stamps before putting them on your mail. There was also a grade school and then just the church.
“Our preacher and his wife came in from out of town just to preach to a few dozen people in that church. We called them Uncle Bert and Aunt Edith. They planted that mustard seed of faith in our hearts, and I know mine probably has weeds all around it now, but it’s still there trying to push its way out. I never stopped believing in God. They never talked about abortion to us kids, but they talked about His rules. If you consider the baby a person, abortion might fall under one of those rules—one of the thou shalt not’s. I remember some of them because they gave me and Olivia charm bracelets with the Ten Commandments on them. We lost them when we moved, but we had to memorize them for a prize at Sunday School. So if I have an abortion, does that mean when I die, I’ll burn for eternity? That’s a long time, Jake.”
“I don’t know, Gabby. If you’re considering the abortion and are worried, maybe you should talk to a preacher. All I know is it’s your choice.”
Gabby considered Jake’s words and paused, taking a moment to think.
“I’ve been putting off the decision because I didn’t want an abortion, but I know I’m not ready for a baby yet. I won’t even be eighteen when it gets here. I want to wait and have babies when I get out of this mess and can do better for my kids. I want to do it the right way: get a good job, get married, have a husband and a house, then start a family and give them a good childhood, something different than what I had,” Gabby finished.
“Gabby, I think that sounds like a good plan. Like you done put a lot of thought into it. I’ll put the number right here on your dresser, and if you decide you want to make the call, you do it. I’d be happy to drive you over there if you want to go talk to them,” Jake said. “And while I don’t like it, and I can’t go in there with you, if you choose to have an abortion, I’ll drive you to the city and wait outside in the car for you there too.”
“Jake, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Gabby whispered around her cracking voice while snuggling up to her favorite spot on his shoulder. This was the first time she’d been able to get her thoughts about the baby outside her head to anyone else, and it felt like a huge burden had been lifted.
“Jake, what if I carry the baby for nine months and give it up? Don’t you think you’d get sick of seeing me fat? Or that people would say something to me about where’s my baby? People would talk bad about me. I don’t know if I could carry it that long and show the world I’m pregnant and then give it up,” Gabby said, her thoughts now fixated on adoption.
“I don’t care if you get fat. And if anyone has anything to say about it, then you don’t need that person in your life. It doesn’t matter what other people think. It matters what is best for you, Gabby. And that could be having the baby, abortion, or adoption. You got choices, girl.”
Gabby knew if she kept her baby, with no education and a minimum wage job, she would have another choice to make: apply for low-income housing and state-assisted daycare vouchers, or stay with Mom. She wasn’t sure which was worse, staying with Mom and having more help and security, or living check to check on their own, on welfare... seeing and hearing the police sirens and fighting and carrying on that happened in the low-income housing areas. She’d been to a friend’s house and seen it; they were low rent but high crime.
She knew then her mind was made up. She’d give her baby up for adoption. As long as she got to pick them: the perfect mom and dad. No signs of fighting and a good long history of living in on
e place with deep roots already planted so a child could grow up in a familiar community with lifelong friends. A couple with good, steady jobs that could afford to raise her baby with all the good things she hadn’t had, and without the fighting and drama she’d seen plenty of in her own childhood.
Gabby was going to call that attorney first thing in the morning.
Gabby sat alone on one side of the table in the huge conference room, facing the attorney and his paralegal. Mr. Sparrow was a very nice man. He and his wife were unable to have children years ago and they had adopted a child. He showed Gabby pictures of her. Having a daughter had changed his life and he soon changed his specialty to adoption to help other people like him and his wife.
Gabby had been there over two hours, first going over her medical history and completing lots of preliminary paperwork, then moving on to discuss the kind of family she hoped to find for what she just knew would be a son and looking through the eight folders of prospective couples. She finally settled on a strong-sounding couple, a nurse and a pilot who had failed to have a child the entire eight years of their marriage. Surely people employed to take care of others—trusting them with their lives in both the air and in a hospital—would be good parents.
Mr. Sparrow had immediately put them on a conference call with Gabby, which lasted well over an hour.
Gabby felt sure she was asking all the wrong things and probably sounded like a child, but she’d always been one to say or ask exactly what was on her mind, so she did. The call was mostly one-sided with Gabby pelting one question after another. Do you believe in God? What is your religion? What kind of neighborhood do you live in? Are you rich? Do you have a swimming pool...? Those are too dangerous with a baby. Are you planning on staying in one place while your child grows up... or moving around? What do you do as a couple if you disagree about something? How do you fight when you do fight? Do you put up a Christmas tree? Are there lots of presents under it even though you are childless? Would you try to adopt more babies? Siblings were important, actually crucial, to Gabby growing up and she didn’t want her child to not have them. Do you intend to tell your baby about his birth mother? Will you agree to an open adoption?
