The Life List (The List Trilogy)

by Chrissy Anderson

  “Do you have a history of fainting?”

  “No, and I didn’t faint. I got really dizzy.”

  “Are you experiencing any flu like symptoms?

  “No.”

  “Are you more tired than usual?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sexually active?” Giggles. “I guess”.

  “It says here you’re seventeen. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you taking precautions to protect yourself during intercourse?” More giggles. “Yeah, condoms.”

  “Every single time?”

  “Yes.”

  That’s not the case, there was that one time, but I can’t admit that to this guy.

  “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

  “NO! No way. Gosh, I’m too young!”

  “Miss, if you menstruate, you can get pregnant. You can be as young as twelve, even younger.

  “Gross. But, no I’m not. I feel better now. Let’s go, Kelly.”

  “Miss, I would feel better if we did a pregnancy test before you left. Don’t worry, it’s completely confidential. Your parents won’t find out about any of this.”

  I’m looking at him like he’s fucking nuts. I barely even know how to get pregnant, so how can I actually be pregnant? “No thank you. I’m fine. I just wanna go.”

  “I’ll tell you what, let’s do the test, and if it’s negative, which I’m sure it will be, I’ll give you a three month supply of birth control pills. Does that sound like a good idea?”

  I can get birth control pills without my mom knowing? That does sound like a good idea! Kelly’s looking at me like I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

  “Sure.”

  After a quick pee in a cup and a trip to the vending machine for a Dr. Pepper and a Snickers, my test comes back negative. Kelly and I head back to cheerleading practice with my little bag of birth control gold.

  For the next four weeks I continue to suffer through practice, and even though I’m incredibly tired and lightheaded, I force myself to hide it from my squad. Nationals are a big deal. No squad from American High School, let alone any squad in Northern California, has ever qualified for this competition. One hundred of the best cheer squads from across the country are heading to Disneyland to compete and it’s being televised on ESPN. Granted, it’ll air at 2:30am on a Wednesday, but who cares! My squad has worked on our routine for three hours a day for the last six months, and I can’t let whatever the hell is wrong with me ruin this opportunity of a lifetime. It’ll have to wait until the competition is over. And that it did. The minute we got off the stage, I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

  “Hurry, Chrissy! They’re about to announce the winners. What the heck…are you throwing up?”

  “Kelly, what’s wrong with me?”

  “I dunno. Maybe you’re getting sick from those birth control pills.”

  “That’s impossible, I haven’t started taking them yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “The doctor told me not to start until the first Sunday after my next period.

  I haven’t had it yet.”

  “Chrissy, that was like, four weeks ago! When was your last period?”

  “I guess like a month and a half ago. Maybe longer. I don’t keep track of that stuff.”

  “Jesus, Chrissy, I think you might be pregnant after all. You should take another test.”

  We ended up finishing fourth place at Nationals, which was pretty good considering it was our first ever appearance. I’m finally back home and back to reality. Time to tell Kurt the news.

  “Kurt, I think I screwed up on something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, I haven’t started my period yet.”

  “Okay…”

  “And I know the pregnancy test I took at the hospital turned out negative, but I’m scared, Kurt. With all of my dizziness, throwing up and stuff, I think I might be anyway.”

  “Like you said, the test came out negative. Just give it another weekd and stop worrying so much.”

  “Kurt, I haven’t had a period in seven weeks.”

  All of a sudden he looks scared.

  “You probably forgot you had one or something.”

  “Kurt, I feel like I’m pregnant.” And then I lose it. “Oh God, but I can’t be! I’m a good girl, a fucking all-American cheerleader for Christ sake! My parents are gonna die! What will happen to college? Oh my God, this can’t be happening!”

  “Chrissy! Calm down! What do you want to do?”

  Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at Planned Parenthood. He parks and doesn’t ask to join me inside. I’m alone.

  Head down and speaking softly, I explain my situation to the man nurse person. He tells me it’s best to administer a blood test so we can get to the bottom of thingsd and like a jerk off he says, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It’s best to remember how you’re feeling right now and do everything you can to prevent this situation in the future.”

  I wanna say, “no shit,” but I keep my mouth shut. At least he doesn’t make me feel like a total slut, and for a minute I’m calm. The minute is over when he confirms that I am, in fact, pregnant.

  “But when I took a test six weeks ago it was negative!”

  “Well, sometimes when a pregnancy test is taken too close to conception it can’t detect enough hCG. That’s the substance produced by placental tissue, and it needs to be present in order to give you a positive result. Seems to me this is what happened to you.”

  Hc… Placental… What the?!

  “So you’re telling me I have a baby… growing inside of me… RIGHT NOW!?”

  “That’s right, and if your calculations are correct, you’re probably about eight weeks pregnant.”

  Doing the math in my head. Eight divided by four is… “OH MY GOD!”

  With my head buried in my hands and barely able to speak, he asks me what

  I plan to do about it. I don’t even know how to make dinner for myself yet. I turn every load of laundry pink, and I can still only manage to get a tampon half-way in. I’m just that inexperienced in life! Oh no! What about my prom? Will Kurt break up with me? How will my father explain this to his co-workers? My Mom will blame me for ruining her life. I’ll have to quit the squad! No! No! No!

  “I have to get it out. Oh my God…I’m gonna have an abortion, aren’t I?”

  “Well, that’s one option, but you can also give this baby up for adoption.”

  “No, I can’t let anyone know I’m pregnant.”

  About thirty minutes later, I walk out to Kurt who’s standing outside of the car. He takes one look at my smudged mascara and the large pamphlet of papers I’m carrying and mouths the words “oh shit.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I will be next week when this is over with.”

  “Whoa, we didn’t even talk about it yet.”

  “Talk about what? Is this what you want with your life, to be an eighteen-year-old dad?”

  “I’d be nineteen by the time you had it.”

  “Big fucking deal, Kurt! Look, I’m not some loser high school slut girl. Do you know how many people will laugh at me and get sick satisfaction over this happening? They’ll be like, “There’s prego Chrissy! She thought she was so cool being a cheerleader and dating Kurt Gibbons. What a loser!”

  “Why do you care so much what people think about you?”

  “BECAUSE I DO! PLUS, THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WOULD SAY ABOUT THEM!”

  “Okay, okay calm down. It’s gonna be okay. I promise it’ll be okay. If this is your decision, then I’ll help you with it. When is it, and how much does it cost?”

  Slightly hyperventilating, I tell him it’s next Saturday, and it will cost $400 with a local anesthetic and $300 without.

  “I, I, I d d d d don’t have a a a a any money, Kurt!”

  “Don’t worry. I think I can get about $300.”

  Don’t worry? I’ve never had minor surgery, not even
a cavity in my entire life and now I’m about to have a baby sucked out of my body without a local anesthetic! Jesus, sometimes I wonder how tough Kurt expects me to be. I’ve endured really scary four wheeling trips with him and been water skiing even though I’m more afraid of fish than anything in the world. I’ve run through fields of bulls, and I’ve fallen off of my bike about a thousand times because he wanted me to push myself to the extreme. And I did it all for love. But I wonder…in the name of love, am I supposed to settle for the cheapie abortion?

  On Thursday night, two days before the abortion, I call Kelly.

  “Hey, Kelly, what’s goin’ on?”

  “Nothing, just watching Knott’s Landing and looking for something to wear to Joe’s party on Friday night. What are you gonna wear?”

  “I’m not going.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s gonna be killer!”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh, shit. I knew it. What are you gonna do?”

  “I’m having a you-know-what on Saturday. I’m telling my mom that I’m staying the night at your house on Friday night, but Kurt and I are really staying at a motel near the place because we have to be there really early in the morning. Can you make sure you cover for me in case my mom calls your house to check if I’m really there?”

  “What if I’m at Joe’s party when she calls?”

  “God, Kelly, don’t go to the party!”

  “Oh man, his parents are out of town, and it’s supposed to be totally rad but yeah, you’re right, I should probably stay home.”

  “Probably or you will?”

  After a longer than I’m comfortable with pause, “Fine, I’ll stay home.”

  “I need another favor. I don’t want anyone to know, not even Nicole and Courtney.”

  “Why?”

  “You know Nicole will just crack some sick joke to try and cheer me up and Courtney will want to get her mom involved so that I get the best abortion money can buy. As if there can be one.”

  “This really sucks, Chrissy. Who would’ve thought this could happen to you?”

  Through my tears…“No one.”

  Two days later, on January 2nd, instead of ringing in 1987, my high school graduation year, I’m on my way to the abortion clinic. I’m wearing my cheerleading sweat suit and a Minnie Mouse sweatshirt that I bought last month at Disneyland.

  Strange choice of clothing, but it makes me feel somewhat official. I want the people at the clinic to think I’m a respectable girl, not one of those stoner chicks who cuts class to hang out by the bleachers and smokes. Just as Kurt parks the car, we notice the protestors.

  “Jesus, this is the kinda thing after school specials are made of.”

  “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, babe.”

  On the one hand, I hate his guts for this, but on the other, I realize I’m the one who allowed it to happen and I only have myself to blame. I put so much faith in his eighteen years of experience, but really he’s just another dumb guy and I’m just another dumb girl who didn’t realize it until it was too late.

  “Here’s the money. I’m sorry I couldn’t get more than $300. I feel terrible about all of this.”

  My trembling hands carefully take the money. I’m glad this is almost over with because the last five days have been torture. I wanted to talk about every single aspect of the pregnancy since I found out about it. Kurt’s been totally incapable of talking about any of it.

  I asked him to go to the library with me to get more information about abortions and the stages of pregnancy. He told me that I was only making things harder on myself. I wanted to talk about what it might be like if we did have it. Would it be a boy or a girl? What would we name it? I wondered out loud about what the abortion would feel like. Would I see the baby afterwards? Would they be able to determine the sex? The more I pressed on, the angrier he got with me. I know I was clear from the start that I didn’t want to keep the baby, but that didn’t mean I was numb to the fact that I was getting rid of it. I know Kurt holds himself to a higher standard than to do something like this. But so do I, and if he has any heart at all he’ll put his frustrations aside to support me and that’s my hope for after this thing is over.

  “Do you want me to go with you, you know…inside?”

  To say yes means I’m asking him to do something that he clearly doesn’t feel comfortable doing. I feel so let down, and I can hardly look at him. I’m quivering with emotions that I’m too young to describe. I want my mom. Sure she would make me feel like I ruined her life, but she wouldn’t let me walk into that scary place by myself and when it was all over, she would feed me soup and put warm washcloths on my forehead.

  Tears are streaming down my face, and in my mind I’m pleading for him to insist that he comes with me.

  “I think I’ll be okay.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  I wonder if he can hear our two little hearts breaking.

  “I’m not sure how long this will take. They said it could be as long as five or six hours depending on how many other girls need one today.”

  Please see how scared I am and come inside with me. Please want to protect me from the scary people who are yelling obscenities and carrying picket signs with pictures of shredded up fetuses on them.

  “It’s not too late to change your mind. We can keep it.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  I take a deep breath and step out of the car to go do what I think I’m supposed to. The second my feet hit the ground, I’m swooped up by two men. I hope to God they’re not some crazy Pro Life freaks trying to kidnap me to make me have my baby in some abandoned warehouse or something.

  “It’s okay, kiddo, we’re here to get you safely inside. Just keep your head down and walk fast.”

  Yep, that’s me. The kidd-o-with the baby-o-in her stomach-o-. I turn back to glance at Kurt, but before I’m able to zoom in on him, the bodyguards open the door, shove me inside, and then slam it to go out and protect the next irresponsible slut. I look up and I’m shocked to see about fifteen other women crammed in the tiny overheated waiting room. I’m younger than all of them by at least five years and the ones I have eye contact with give me half smiles and nods of support that say, “It’ll be okay, honey.” I was hot in Kurt’s car, but I’m really hot now, and I’m sweating buckets through every single pore on my body. I’m also starving to death because I was instructed not to eat, which is odd since I’m not getting any FUCKING anesthetic. This place is underground seedy gross and it smells like burnt rubber and sweat. What’s that noise? Sounds like a vacuum cleaner. Oh my God, that’s not a vacuum cleaner…it’s the killing machine! On, off, on, off, on, off. Jesus, how many girls are back there? Oh my gosh, I have to sit down. Can’t see so well. What’s that sound? BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Is it…my heart? Oh God, what if it’s the baby’s heart! I can’t see. I close my eyes tightly and I see the sound. Swirling around in my mind is one of those scary toy monkeys banging its symbols together. It’s laughing at me. It’s getting louder! I’m so thirsty. Need water NOW. I reach out to the person in front of me and try as hard as I can to focus, but all I see and hear is the evil monkey.

  “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  “I can’t…can’t stand.”

  “What’s that? I can barely hear you.”

  I extend my hand out to the lady for support but before it reaches her, my knees crumble and the entire room turns into the color of a bruise. The only things I’m aware of are the evil monkey and the enormous fart exploding out of my body. My last conscious thought before I hit the floor is, could my life possibly get any worse?

  “Well hi there, Minnie. We we’re worried about you there for a minute. Here, drink some of this water.”

  I take little sips and stare at her from above the lip of the cup. Minnie?

  “What happened to me?”

  “You fainted. Don’t worry, you’re not the first. They keep that waiting room so darn hot! Now, let’s sit you
up and start filling out some paperwork.” She points to my Disneyland sweatshirt and says, “Can’t keep calling you Minnie forever.”

  I like her.

  The rest of the day is a nightmare I don’t wish on any girl, woman, slut, whore, whoever. I’m shoved into a room with three pieces of white trash who are way too proud of their gang affiliation. We’re expected to watch hours of videos of our options: keep the baby, put the baby up for adoption, or abort the baby. But truthfully it’s hard to focus with all their gang talk, looks of intimidation, and fake farting noises. It doesn’t matter though. I know my only choice is to have an abortion and that’s exactly what I tell the head of the baby-killing department at my last pit stop before finally being guided to the room where they do the procedure. It’s a horrible room, and it makes me sad…like Anne Frank sad. The walls are grey and artless; the air is stale and smells like death. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and even though I just want to get this over with and forget it ever happened, I don’t feel like it’s fair to the thing growing inside of me to do that.

  I have to find a price to pay for my irresponsibility. As I walk to the exam table, I notice a pale blue dish-washing bucket strategically placed underneath. Great, my baby will end up in a bucket. Is that sanitary? As instructed, I take off my clothes and slip into the paper gown to wait for the murderers. It makes me scared…Anne Frank scared. Should I run? If I do, will we stand a chance of surviving? Did I just say we? Am I considering its feelings? I can hear the murderers marching down the hall and panic attacks me…Anne Frank panic. Without even a courtesy knock, they barge through the bookshelf, I mean door, and without introduction they instruct me to lie down. How can all these people allow this to happen? Oh Anne, is that what you thought too? Jesus, they’re about to stop a heartbeat! But wait… I’m the one who gave them the command! Who am I, Anne or Hitler?! Am I good or evil!? Is this the thing that forevermore makes me one or the other? The gravity of the situation didn’t hit me until this very moment. Seriously, no video outlining my options could prepare me for how morbid this is. If they wanted me to really consider my options, they should’ve made me watch a video of an actual abortion, given me a tour of this very room, and then made me sit alone in it with the bucket and my Anne Frank thoughts. Oh God, I’m torn between wanting them to save the baby’s life and making it easier for me to go back to mine. My eyes are darting around the room pleading for someone to question my choice just one more time. Somebody give me an honorable command! PLEASE! Where’s my nice nurse? I need my nice nurse!