by Gus Leodas
“What can I say to make you change your mind?”
“I don’t want a baby and I don’t want to get married yet. Why is it difficult to understand? I won’t divert my energies from my career to start thinking about raising a family.”
“With me?”
“With anyone.” His head shook in frustration. “What’s the big deal? Why make this a monumental happening?”
“You don’t understand, do you?”
“The only way you think I’ll understand is if I think your way. How could you allow it to happen? You were a professional. Can’t you take care of yourself? And why must you be bitter, vindictive? I thought you were different.”
“Different? You mean pregnant proof?”
Her mind stalled. She lost, by emotion.
“Alise, it’s a mistake. Accept the mistake then forget. If you have to satisfy or justify any instincts, delay them, become a mother another time. You know you can become pregnant and will again.”
“I thought loving you would make me whole. Instead, it made me a groveling, desperate person. I hate you for that.”
“Why can’t you take each day as it comes? What was wrong with the way we were going?”
“We were heading down a dead end.”
“Maybe you were, I wasn’t”
“We both were.”
“No, you were. Because our relationship doesn’t evolve into marriage you think it’s going in the wrong direction.”
“I won’t live that way again.” She grabbed the envelope and put it in her purse. “Thanks. This will help me start anew.”
“Stop acting like a child.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. Between us, it’s over. Don’t pay my rent anymore. All I ask is that I work with you for another year to stay in New York.”
Her offensive silenced his attack.
A waiter’s presence interrupted the confrontation and they ordered their food.
“When are you going to the clinic?”
“I told you as soon as I’m ready. What about my deal? Do you agree?”
“No.”
“You mean you would send me back to Syria?”
“No. I don’t want to lose you.”
A shining light! “You mean you got a good thing going?”
“No, again. It means I love you.”
Alise’s insides sang. “You never said that before, never that way.”
“No matter. I love you and I don’t want you to leave.”
“You may love me, but you don’t need me. If that’s your idea what love is, it stinks. My sustenance revolves around you. I need you to have a whole life. That’s love. I spent the whole day trying to figure out our future. Though I hoped we could have one together, we can’t. I don’t think I could respect you again.”
“Because you can’t have your way?”
“Doesn’t matter anymore, your way or my way. The important thing is it can’t be our way. I release you from any obligation to me. I’m going to have the baby. No one will know the father. I promise that to you.”
“What are you, nuts?”
“No. I don’t need you to support the baby or me. I want this baby. Because at the time it was conceived, I loved you.”
“And you don’t love me anymore?”
“I’ll try to live without you.”
“How can you come to the office pregnant?”
“Why not?”
“What do you say to everyone, the ambassador did it?”
“I’ll say I married secretly in the past three months.”
“They won’t buy your explanation. These subjects get out. After all, I did bring you with me from Syria.”
“My telling them I married someone else will squash those rumors.”
He leaned back and straightened withdrawing from the confrontation. “If you want the baby I’ll help with financial support.”
“You didn’t say so the other night.”
“I was striking out blindly. You trapped me in a corner and didn’t know what I was saying.”
“You did a good job and managed to hurt me.”
“Again, I’m sorry.” He groped, searching.
Ali scanned the restaurant looking for his red–jacketed waiter. Although the room filled, diners were oblivious to Alise and Ali’s presence in the alcove, including the waiters.
“You’re patronizing me, Ali.”
“I’m not. I prefer the abortion; but if you insist on going through with the pregnancy…I’ll help you, the hell with the office. They will believe what we tell them.”
“You’re willing to support our baby? For how long?”
“For as long as you need my help. Or until you get married.”
Death.
The words stabbed as a knife, a crippling and savage stabbing bursting her delusions.
“Married?”
“Eventually you’re going to get married, no? At that time you won’t need my support.”
“I see.”
“That’s fair, isn’t it?”
She nearly stammered. “Ali, does that remark mean there’s no chance of us ever getting married?”
“I told you dozens of times. I don’t want to get married now.”
“To me?”
“To anyone.”
“If you ever decide to get married and I’m still around then what?”
“If I decide to get married and it’s not you, it’s not you.”
Another stabbing. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Stop asking me to make a commitment. I can’t.”
“Don’t support the baby. I’ll manage without you. Shaba said she’d help me if I decided to have it.”
“Shaba? She hasn’t a pot to piss in either. Shaba! Who else knows about this? The world is going to know next. All I need is for Kabani to find out.”
“Don’t exaggerate. I thought he was your friend.”
“He is, but he’s never approved scandals. He’ll protect his ass from the President.”
Alise remained silent for minutes. His eyes tracked his thoughts. She heard it again this time as finality. He rejected the baby. She said she would have the baby. Words. She terrified at the thought, but decided to maintain an independent position showing assertiveness, independence, and a defiance that she could go on without him.
The food arrived. Dinner turned into a wake. Silence prevailed until dessert when his eyes stopped tracking. All along, Alise looked at him, studying. She remained quiet to avoid betraying her weakness.
Ali asked, “Would you like to do something else, go somewhere after here?”
After all that thinking, that was all he could say, disappointing.
“I’m not in the mood for gaiety tonight. I want to go home.”
“Let’s go there then.”
“No. I’ll say goodbye and you go your way tonight and I’ll go mine.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
“Not tonight.”
“I won’t leave you feeling like this.”
“What’s the difference? You haven’t left me smiling in weeks. No reason why tonight should be any different.”
“I’m tired of fighting. I’ll get the check.”
“We’ll split it,” Alise offered.
“You’re ridiculous again, Alise.”
“You pay your share, I’ll pay mine. I insist. I am independent of you.”
“Will that make you feel better? Pay your own way.”
The check came. “How much is the check?” she asked.
“With tip, eighty dollars.” She passed her share to him. Ali accepted the money saying, sarcastically, “Why don’t you be a sport and pay the whole thing?”
“Up yours.”
Alise floated in a world different from his when she stood and weaved around the tables to the front. She meandered ahead and waited by the door for him.
Her hands vibrated, thoughts numbed and traumatized from her posture and position. She ended the relationship. Did s
he do the right thing? Would she have the baby without him? Will he walk out of her life? Did he see through her? Doubt and insecurity dried her positive flow, about to walk a tightrope high above ground without a balance pole or a net.
Alise weaved into indecision when he said as he caught up, “Okay, let’s go.”
Outside, they looked at each other in confusion at this new and awkward moment. The night air failed to help in changing their mental pall. Their meeting would end soon.
“Are you certain I shouldn’t walk you home?”
“I’m positive and the area is safe. I need to be alone. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He looked disappointed.
She hesitated from turning away then leaned over to kiss his cheek, and did. Her heart raced, fingers clutching his jacket to stop trembling. She pressed closer and kissed him tenderly on the lips.
She stepped back and looked at him with pleading eyes then kissed him again.
“Ali?”
“Yes?”
“Please take me home.”
Ali possessed her, owning her body and soul. He wrapped her in a small package placing it on his shelf to open and close to play with and put away whenever it pleased him.
He slept over that night leaving at seven in the morning. She clung to him all night as they slept; afraid he would leave forever. At eight o’clock, she called Laura.
“This is Alise.”
“Good morning. Did your evening go well? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m calling to say I’m going for the abortion.”
“Oh.” Laura’s disappointment showed.
“Can you still go with me? I’m shaking.”
“Whenever you say.”
“Can we go today? I have the courage.”
“I’ll take off from work. I’ll have to call and see when the clinic can take you.”
“I didn’t think about calling. I’m confused.”
“They may not be open at this hour. That’s your final decision?”
“No way will Ali have me with the baby.”
“You’re convinced it’s the best thing all around?”
“It’s the best thing.” Alise lacked conviction.
“Okay, you know best. I’ll call you after I talk to the clinic.”
“Where is it, by the way?”
“On East Sixtieth Street, the Midtown Women’s Clinic, a member of New York Abortion Clinic Services. I’ve checked them out if you decided to go ahead. And it’s safe and with competent medical care. They also told me about abortion pill RU486. I can explain the procedure as explained to me.”
“Do that later. I’m not receptive now. I cried for an hour.”
“I’ll call you later.”
“Thanks a million for being a friend.”
Alise’s eyes streaked red unable to cry anymore. Crying could never change matters. Last night proved she needed to live with him, refusing to yield her dream. He had become an obsession. The analysis came down to obsession as she impatiently waited for Laura’s call that came at eight-thirty.
“We have an appointment for eleven o’clock. That’s the earliest they can take you.”
“What happens now? Do I stay overnight or what?”
“You go in and out the same day. You have to take blood and urine tests. The abortion takes from two to three minutes. You’ll be there for four or five hours.”
“Do I have to stay awake?”
“If you prefer they can put you to sleep with an intravenous injection. They place your legs in stirrups like having a baby then perform the procedure, or take RU486, a nonsurgical procedure which can be used in the first sixty-three days of the first trimester either in pill form, by injection, or liquid form.”
“Fine. We’re on.”
“I’ll come by then we’ll take a cab. About ten-thirty?”
“Make it ten. I’m going to need moral support.”
Alise decided to walk. They left earlier.
“It’s not the end, Alise. Abortions are a simple and common procedure today.”
“I’m not worried about the operation. I’m about to kill my baby. That’s what’s clawing at me. The problem is I’m doing it for Ali, not for me. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“That’s for you to judge.”
“What would you do if the same happened to you?”
They crossed 56th Street and First Avenue. A Montana sky continued to favor the city.
“I’d also have mixed emotions if the man involved wasn’t interested. If it happened with Adam, he’d jump for joy knowing I wouldn’t hesitate to marry him. Your commitment would be twofold, a major responsibility and financial burden, a major sacrifice. I don’t know what to say to justify your decision.”
Fright came to Alise as they walked closer to 60th Street. She tensed when they passed beneath the droning 59th Street Bridge and reached 60th Street then turned left towards Second Avenue.
The Midtown Women’s Clinic occupied a four-story townhouse in the middle of the block. Its white facade and sign on the door were clues of a medical establishment.
From the corner, they saw two men by the clinic trying to persuade two women going inside from going, tormenting them. The one wearing a brown suit and glasses carried a sign proclaiming, ‘Stop the Killing of Innocent Children.’; Right to Lifers.
“Don’t kill your baby,” the other one, wearing jeans and a blue shirt, shouted. He had a groomed beard.
“Don’t kill your baby!”
The two women entered the clinic guilt ridden. The two men saw Laura and Alise. They waited ready to pounce on anyone coming to the clinic. When apparent the women would abort by heading for the door, they attacked.
“Don’t kill your baby!”
The other man jumped in front preventing entry.
“Get out of our way,” Laura said adamant.
“Save your baby’s life. Here, take these pamphlets.” Laura accepted one to end his aggression. “Your baby has as much right to live as you. Don’t kill him. Please.” He turned to Alise. “Please you must stop her. Look at these pictures.” He pointed to a colored picture of discarded fetuses with bold lettering, HUMAN GARBAGE. “Her baby isn’t garbage. It’s murder, immoral. Please give your baby a chance. Let him live!”
Alise was shaken. The other man, less aggressive, approached.
“Ladies, please don’t be alarmed. We want only to defend your child. We believe he has a right to live, and your baby has a right to a full life. Please read the pamphlet before making your final decision. We know you made the decision to kill him, why you are here, to become a murderess. We are making a last minute plea for your unborn child. He has no one else to protect him.”
He has no one else to protect him. The words repeated in Alise’s head.
“Thank you,” Laura replied, trying to appease them. “Thank you for your concern, but we already decided. Please let us pass.” She grew angry when they didn’t budge. “Move shit! Abortion is a woman’s issue. Stop trying to control us with your backward self-serving male stupidity. You’re a Neanderthal, a mindless asshole farting through his mouth. Only women should decide the issue.”
They stepped aside.
“You’ll regret it. You’ll regret it forever.”
They abandoned Alise and Laura when their attention diverted to a woman headed in their direction. Alise remained shaken. Laura put her arm around her.
“Are you all right?”
Alise nodded. They entered the foyer and reception area. Behind the receptionist, a nurse, a five part series of diagrams explained the menstrual cycle. Seven women waited in the waiting area.
Alise approached the desk meekly. Laura strode ahead and registered Alise. Then they sat and waited with the others. The girl next to Laura with freckles and long straight hair looked at her and Alise then their stomachs to determine if both were pregnant. Her curiosity overwhelmed.
“Are you both undergoing the procedure? That’s what they call i
t here. The procedure.”
“No,” answered Laura.
The freckled girl started saying something about how simple the procedure was. She had been through it before and on and on.
Alise deafened, absorbed in the pamphlet, eyes glued to the pictures. She turned nauseous. Under the words, HUMAN GARBAGE, she read, ‘Did you know this is how big you were when you were only eleven weeks old? From then on, you breathed [fluid], swallowed, digested and urinated. No new organs began functioning after that. You just grew more mature.’ Alise turned the page to more appeals and more pictures.
Laura was involved with the girl next to her who insisted on talking. “I’m nearly three months already. I waited too long, but I was scared shit, you know, though I’m an old pro at this.” She chewed gum.
“Did you come alone?”
“Yeah.”
Laura reasoned the gum chewing and incessant talking were nervous decoys. Laura detached from the girl to talk to Alise, to divert her from the pictures. She turned in time to see Alise running out the front door.
Laura thrust from her seat and caught up to a running Alise on First Avenue after her calls to wait were unheeded. The man with the beard hollered after them.
“We praise you on behalf of your child! You saved your baby!”
Alise stopped running, and sat on a stoop step and cried. Laura caught up.
Laura sat next to her and extended comfort. She ignored curious pedestrians.
“Oh, Laura, I can’t do it. I can’t!”
Laura let her cry on her shoulder.
“Let’s go home. You have time to think about it.”
Alise stayed home the next day and day after refusing to answer the phone or turn on the answering machine encasing in a gloomy environment, a shroud of doom and fear, afraid to see or talk to Ali. She heard him knocking and calling from outside the door the last two mornings. She caged herself.
Laura panicked when calls to Alise rang unanswered. On the second day during her lunch hour, she visited Alise’s apartment, knocked, and then called her name several times. Locks clicked, a chair rattled, and the door opened. Laura winced on seeing her.
“You look like hell.” Alise nodded. Laura entered and closed the door. “What’s the matter with you? You dove into seclusion feeling sorry for yourself?” Alise sat distraught on the sofa. “Snap out of it. Come on!”
