his saying it made it seem real for the first time, as if I'd just barely recognized how badly they would react to the news.
"But how can I NOT have this baby?" I said stupidly. "You can't turn things like this on and off like a faucet."
"Yes you can," said Bob firmly, taking me by the shoulders and looking me in the eye. His intensity startled me. "Abortion. That's the answer. That's what you have to do. I'll pay for it. I'm sure I've got enough money saved up."
The word spat at me like an angry bee. "Abortion!" I blurted. "I can't do that!"
"Why not?" countered Bob. "You're old enough--you just turned 18! You don't need your parent's permission. It's a simple procedure, and there's a clinic down the hill in Pittsburgh. And this way, no one will ever know."
I stared at Bob, speechless. Finally I said, "There's got to be another way. We could always get married."
"Are you nuts?" he cried, waving his hands wildly again. "You know I was held back a year, so I'm still only a junior in high school! Unlike you, I won't graduate for over a year! My part time job sacking groceries can't support us! Get real, will you?"
I continued to stare at him, my mind still resisting the idea of an abortion. "Then why not just let it be born and give it up for adoption?" I asked.
"Yeah, right!" he cried, rolling his eyes. "Then the whole world will know! Your Dad might even kick you out! You know how strict he is! Where would you go then? You don't have money to support yourself, and like I said, neither do I!"
Seeing me about to protest further, he said again, but more firmly this time, "Just do it! Have an abortion. You HAVE to do it--you have no choice. And no one will ever know."
My mouth snapped shut, and I didn't say anything. My mind was in a blur, and it felt like there was a buzzing in my head that wouldn't stop. My emotions were a huge ocean wave, breaking on the rocks of a sea shore. But in the midst of it all, one simple thought stood out that could not be denied.
I would know.
April 19
My therapist is a liar. A big, fat liar. Writing in this stupid journal has not helped at all. All it's done is bring back all the memories and all the pain and all the heartache I went through before. How can that be helpful? That's like telling someone who just recovered from a broken leg to go out and break it again.
So why am I writing in here once more, if it's such a painful waste? Beats me. I can't figure it out. It makes no more sense than liking three syllable words. But here I am doing it again, regardless of anything. I must be nuts.
Which is probably a fair assessment. Because I was just nutty enough to start taking seriously what Bob said about having an abortion. After all, I just KNEW that if my parents found out, it would break their hearts. The whole rest of our date that night Bob kept talking about it. After I left him, all I could think about was having an abortion. And when I went to bed that night I just lay there tossing and turning, with thoughts of an abortion still running through my mind. Oscar kept brushing up against me with his furry head, but I pushed him away. Bob's intense face kept leering at me out of the dark, mumbling the words "Have an abortion!" "Have an abortion!" "Have an abortion!"
Finally I got up and went to see if there was any leftover pizza in the fridge. Not that I was hungry or anything, since my stomach felt tied up in knots. I mainly needed something to do. I found some pizza and tried to keep the microwave quiet while I cooked it, but I guess I wasn't successful. I'd only taken one tiny bite when Mom showed up in the kitchen.
"Is anything wrong, Kate?" she asked, her eyes bleary from having just woken up. She always was a light sleeper.
"No, nothing at all," I said as pleasantly as I could at 2:00 am, with the question of an abortion weighing on my mind like an anvil.
Mom was always pretty perceptive, and didn't believe a word of it. She gave me a shrewd look, then said, "You had a fight with Bob. Is that it?"
"Yes," I jibbered, feeling an unaccountable wave of relief that she didn't know the real reason. "We did sort of have a fight ..."
"Well, don't let it get you down," said Mom, smiling and coming over to give me a little hug. "Your father and I used to have little fights all the time when we were dating, about all sorts of things. We still do, in fact. But that doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. Things will sort themselves out. You'll feel a lot better when the sun comes up in the morning."
That's another one of Mom's favorite sayings. Things will always be better when the sun comes up in the morning. I just wish it were true, both for her and for me. She never repeats this saying anymore, and these days she doesn't usually look like she feels any better when the sun comes up. Neither do I. But in the kitchen that night, she seemed to believe it. And silly me, I did too.
"Sure, Mom," I agreed with a slight smile. "It's nothing. It'll blow over. It's no big deal." I gave her a little hug, then put my pizza down since I really wasn't hungry. "I think I'll go back to bed now." Then I wandered down the hall, wondering to myself whether being pregnant and having an abortion was a big deal or not. After all, lots of women had abortions. It didn't seem to bother them, so why should it bother me? And it was perfectly legal, so it must be ok. Those smart men in government wouldn't let it be legal if there was anything wrong with it, would they?
But I didn't sleep any better than I had before. Seeing me so restless, Oscar came over again and tried to pry his furry head under my arm. I pushed him away, after which he walked away in disgust with his tail in the air, like offended cats do.
By morning I was a basket case. I needed to talk to someone. I just couldn't keep all this bottled up inside. Bob was no help, and I couldn't tell Mom or Dad. There was obviously only one person to turn to.
Clarice. My childhood friend, who was still my closest advisor even after all these years. I tried to text her the minute I got up, but there was no response. Silly me. I knew she never looked at her texts this early. Finally I ducked out of the house, giving Mom some excuse about how I wanted to catch Clarice before school and I'd drive us both there. Then I raced over to her house in my car.
"Oh, hello Kate!" said Clarice's Mom at the door, giving me a big smile. I found myself wondering what there was to smile about. "Clarice is upstairs getting ready for school." Then she walked away, since she was used to me coming over and invading their house. I did it all the time.
"I've got to talk to you," I said as I came into Clarice's bathroom where she was doing her hair. She just frowned at me. Her opinion of hair was very intense, as if it needed all of her concentration. Normally if I came in and found her doing her hair, I knew better than to barge around like a rat in a dollhouse, and just remained silent until she was done.
But today I couldn't wait. Not after the horrible night I'd had. And unlike my normal personality, I decided the blunt approach might be the best way to overcome her fixation with hair. I only hoped I didn't shock her so much she burned her hand on her curling iron.
"I'm pregnant," I said boldly, my voice suddenly sounding strange and far away as if even my own mouth could not believe what it was saying. "And Bob wants me to have an abortion."
Clarice dropped her curling iron with a clatter, her eyes opening big as garbage can lids. "You're kidding!" she gasped, her face turning white. My face had turned pretty white too, and I suddenly felt lightheaded at having blurted something so unthinkable without any preliminary. I took a quick step over to her bed and sat down.
She knew I wasn't kidding by the look on my face. She and I kidded each other a lot, so perhaps it wasn't surprising she would wonder--especially when I came in and blurted it out like that. But she could tell this was for real. She just stared at me as she went over and sat down next to me on the bed. "I can't believe it!"
I was surprised to see that my hands were shaking. "Neither can I," I answered in a rather husky voice.
"Have you told you parents?" she asked.
"Are
you kidding?" I barked. "You know how they are! All that stuff at church about how you're not supposed to do this sort of thing. They think holding hands is a sin! It took my Dad three months before he stopped glaring at Bob every time he came to take me out. How could I tell them?"
"My goodness!" was all Clarice could say.
"Hey, don't pretend like this is all that shocking," I retorted. "I've seen the way you and Tom carry on when you're on dates. I know Bob and I did wrong by getting so involved, and we'll have to account for it to God someday. And believe me, the way I feel now I have no intention of ever giving him more than a good night kiss from now on! But I can't change my condition. I can't go back in time and undo it."
"My goodness," said Clarice again, raising a hand to smooth her hair, and messing it up worse in the process. "I just can't believe it!"
"Will you stop saying that?" I said through gritted teeth. "You don't know how bad of a night I've had! Bob kept pushing me to get an abortion. It was all he could talk about last night. He practically made me promise I would. He kept saying I have no choice, that I HAVE to do it. But I just don't know if I feel right about it. Somehow it seems wrong, you know what I mean?" I stood up suddenly and paced over to the window.
"Oh, Kate," said Clarice, coming over to stand next to me. "This is awful!"
"Tell
My Name is Kate and I Just Killed My Baby Page 2
