Chapter Twelve
The Spirit of Error
Devon finally calls back, and he and Tammie make arrangements to go to the clinic the following weekend.
Friday afternoon, Tammie packs her clothes and toiletries to spend the night at Devon’s house.
“Tammie, have you seen your brother?” Ms. McLeod asks as she walks into Tammie’s room. Tammie freezes as Ms. McLeod eyes the backpack on her bed.
“Tammie, are you planning on going somewhere?” Ms. McLeod asks with narrowed eyes.
“Uh, yeah,” Tammie doesn’t make eye contact. “I’ll be at a friend’s house tonight.” Tammie isn’t sure her mother will accept such a vague answer. She can’t look at her face without giving herself away. The doorbell rings and Ms. McLeod sighs before leaving to answer it.
Tammie’s mother answers the door. “Hey, Ms. McLeod. May I speak with Tammie, please?”
Tammie hears Jennifer’s voice from the bedroom and breathes a sigh of relief. She can use Jennifer’s appearance to her advantage.
“Mom, let her in, we have some things to discuss for this evening,” Tammie calls from the room.
Ms. McLeod lets her in.
“It’s good to see you, Jennifer,” Ms. McLeod says with sincerity.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in a while,” Jennifer apologizes.
“I’m in the room,” Tammie calls out. As soon as Jennifer is in her room, Tammie closes the door.
“Tammie, I’m so sorry about what happened between us,” Jennifer begins. “I was wrong on so many levels, and I really want us to be friends again. I miss you, and I love you, and I shouldn’t have judged you. If there’s a way to make it up to you, just tell me.”
Tammie only listens half-heartedly. “Well, Jen, you want to discuss it tonight over a sleep over?”
Jennifer’s eyes light up. “That would be great! What time?”
“I can be at your house around seven,” Tammie replies. “But call ahead to confirm. Oh, and don’t call my cell phone. Call the house phone, okay?”
“What’s wrong with your cell?” Jennifer asks.
“Ugh, I broke it,” Tammie sighs. “Clumsy.”
Jennifer nods and smiles at Tammie. “I’m glad you’re willing to give me a second chance. I’ve felt so terribly. Does your mom know?”
Tammie’s eyes widen. “No, and don’t tell her, okay? I need to tell her myself.” Tammie’s eyes brighten with a sudden thought. “That’s something I’d like to ask you about tonight. I don’t know how to tell her.”
Jennifer nods. “Okay. Any help I can offer is yours, Tammie!” Jennifer gives her a hug before they leave the privacy of her room.
“So I guess you two are all set for this evening?” Ms. McLeod watches Jennifer’s reaction carefully. Jennifer nods and smiles.
“I’ll see you tonight, Tammie!” Jennifer waves as she leaves. Tammie smiles with as much affection as she can muster and waves back.
Tammie sits down at the dining room table. Her mother stares at her intently. Feeling self-conscious, Tammie finally dares to look at her.
“What?” Tammie asks.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were sleeping over at Jennifer’s? I wouldn’t be so suspicious if you’d start telling me things, you know. I thought you two had a fight?”
Tammie nods. “We did, but we decided to work things out. And I tell you things.”
“Not like you used to,” her mother protests. “Anyway, have fun tonight. I hope you two girls work everything out.”
“Me too,” Tammie nods.
Like clockwork, Jennifer calls at 6:45 that evening to make sure Tammie is still coming. Ms. McLeod answers the phone, pleased to hear that their plans are set, and hands Tammie the phone.
“Hey!” Jennifer chirps into the phone. “My mom is taking the Drama Queen and the Monster to the movies, so we have the whole house to ourselves, at least for a few hours. We can order pizza, rent a few movies, buy a bunch of chocolate—“
“Uh huh, that sounds great,” Tammie speaks loudly for the benefit of her mother, who is in the kitchen fixing her meal for work. Tammie makes her way into her bedroom and closes the door.
“I’ve been thinking about putting a perm in my hair,” Jennifer continues, “What do you think, Tammie?”
“That sounds nice, Jen,” Tammie rolls her eyes. “Listen, Jennifer, I have some bad news.” Tammie waits for Jennifer to stop talking long enough to continue.
“I overheard my mother and my grandmother talking, and it seems like my grandmother hurt her arm earlier today.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Jennifer sympathizes.
“Yeah,” Tammie agrees, hating herself. “The thing is, it’s going to be extremely difficult for my grandmother to handle all of my siblings while my mother is at work and I’m away, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel tonight.”
“Oh,” Jennifer is disappointed. “I understand. Your mother didn’t mention it, though.”
“Yeah, she wants me to go on anyway,” Tammie lies. “Her and my grandmother insist that I go out, but I can’t leave my grandmother. I mean, it wouldn’t be right, would it?” Tammie feels low. Her grandmother is fine. In fact, she’s going out to see a play, and all of her siblings are having sleepovers at their friends’ houses. No one will be home for the better part of the night.
“No, I guess not,” Jennifer concedes. “I hope we can reschedule soon?”
“Sure!” Tammie could crawl under a rock.
“Tell your grandmother for me that I hope her arm gets better,” Jennifer adds. “Hey, maybe I could come over and keep you company?”
Tammie shakes her head emphatically, though Jennifer can’t see it. “No, that’s okay,” she answers. “That’s so sweet of you, though, Jennifer.”
“Maybe I could call you and keep you company?” Jennifer tries again.
“Sure,” Tammie replies, anxious to get her off the phone. “Hey, I gotta go, though, okay?”
“Okay,” Jennifer replies reluctantly. “I love you, Tammie.”
“Me too, bye,” Tammie hurries her off the phone. She feels lousy, but what are her options? Jennifer will just have to understand.
“Mom, I’m going over to Jen’s!” Tammie calls out, grabbing her duffel bag and making her way out the door.
About halfway down the block, Devon pulls up in his car. He opens her door for her, and they drive to his house.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” Devon glances nervously at Tammie, gently caressing her hand. “Tomorrow morning we’ll get there, get it done, and move on with our lives. You’ll see. Everything will be fine.”
Tammie begins to cry. Devon looks at her, helpless, and continues to hold her hand.
Later that night, Tammie and Devon make their plans for the next day. They search the web for information and learn the procedure itself should take up to a half hour, with a few additional hours for recovery. By Sunday, Tammie should be fine, and then they can forget that any of this ever happened.
•••
Devon and Tammie arrive at the clinic, terrified. A few girls, some who look very young, sit with bouncing babies on their knees and swollen bellies. Some are accompanied by adults; others, perhaps, by their boyfriends. There are other teens and adults there, though Tammie can’t tell if it’s for the same reason.
The waiting room smells of antiseptic. Those who aren’t already sporting babies on their knees look as frightened as Tammie. Most are too preoccupied to notice Tammie and Devon clutching each other’s hands as they make their way to registration.
The clerk is a gray haired woman with a chubby face. Her white nametag with black letters says “Cam.”
As soon as Cam sees Devon and Tammie, she sighs.
“How can I help you,” she asks in a drone voice.
“We’re here for um, for an, um, a procedure to…” Devon stutters over his words. Tammie has never seen him so perplexed. She feels her own resolve diminish a
s she watches his composure melt and drip to his shoes.
“I’m here for an abortion,” she hears herself say. Cam looks at her intently, shakes her head, and grabs a stack of papers.
“Fill these out,” she states.
Tammie accepts the papers as gracefully as possible and makes her way to a chair. She hears Devon ask, in the most timid of voices, “About how long?”
Tammie watches Cam’s face splotch red. “Fill out the papers first,” she states firmly. Devon nods submissively and leads Tammie to what he hopes is the most comfortable chair.
The paper work includes basic questions, like her name and date of birth. Tammie gets stuck on the more complicated questions. The first form asks which trimester she is in. What difference does her school schedule make? She ventures to ask one of the girls with a baby what that means.
The girl shrugs. “I just put down how many weeks I am. I don’t remember all that Tri-Master stuff.”
Tammie panics. How many weeks is she? She can’t remember. It happened in December, so that makes four, eight, twelve… what day is today? Tammie looks at Devon, who is wringing his hands nervously.
“How much more do you have to fill out?” he asks. His tone is a little edgy, though Tammie can’t blame him. She looks at the papers in front of her. Most of them are repetitious, asking for the same information. She supposes it saves Cam a trip to the copy machine for each patient. Tammie isn’t sure how important the Trimester question is, but she leaves it blank. If it’s important, they’ll ask for it again, right?
She signs her name at the bottom of the remaining three pages. “Finished,” she states with an out of place hoot of victory. Devon glances at her with raised eyebrows, and Tammie smiles sheepishly. Perhaps Max has rubbed off on her. She manages to hand the stack of papers to Cam without ceremony. Cam ‘tsks’ as she looks over Tammie’s paperwork.
“Look at this,” Cam says more to herself than to Tammie. “You forgot to list your trimester, honey.”
“I don’t know what it is,” Tammie feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
“How many weeks are you?” she asks without looking up.
Tammie looks at Devon, hoping he has the number memorized. He only shrugs.
“I don’t know,” Tammie begins. “I haven’t really been keeping track, and-”
“Do you remember the date of your last period?” Cam looks up this time.
Tammie shakes her head in frustration. “Well, um…” She remembers it was around Thanksgiving. Possibly the very beginning of December.
“It was during the week of Thanksgiving,” she finally gets out. Her resolve breaks and her eyes begin to tear. Cam hands her a box of Kleenex. There is no gentle cooing or sympathetic nod, or even a kind eye. Just a mechanical impulse to a knocked up teen crying on her desk. Tammie watches as Cam skims through her paperwork.
“You won’t be able to get an abortion here,” Cam states.
“What?” Tammie and Devon both exclaim, Tammie with relief, Devon with frustration.
Cam pulls out a chart and explains. “The first trimester ends at week 12. If your last period was the week of thanksgiving, then that puts you at sixteen weeks. This clinic does not provide service past the first trimester.”
“Why not?” Tammie asks.
“Because the procedures are more invasive, and therefore more dangerous. I can give you a list of clinics that provide service for the second trimester; however, your date of birth indicates you’re underage, and you either need parental consent or a court order to perform any abortion procedures in this state.”
“What about these girls out here?” Devon points to the young girls who are much further along than Tammie.
“What about them?” Cam asks with a raised eyebrow.
Devon flusters for a moment. “Well they’re obviously past the first trimester, right? How come they get in?”
Cam rolls her eyes. “They aren’t here for abortions. This is a women’s health clinic. We provide general health care, including prenatal counseling and prenatal vitamins, which I encourage you,” she points at Tammie, “to begin taking if you aren’t already. Pregnancy is hard enough without having medical complications that could be avoided by simply taking a vitamin.”
Tammie looks at Cam, then Devon. He isn’t looking at her, but she can tell he is mad.
“Come on, Tammie,” he speaks gruffly. As soon as they get to his car, Devon explodes.
“I knew you were taking too long!” he spews. “How do you not know how many weeks you are, Tammie?”
“How do you not know?” Tammie retorts before breaking down in tears. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“If we’d come here a few weeks ago this wouldn’t be an issue,” he frowns.
“You heard her,” Tammie shakes her head. “Not without our parents.”
Devon waves his hand in dismissal. “We could work around that. Regardless, Tammie, you took too long to make this decision. You should have done this weeks ago!”
“I said I was sorry!” Tammie exclaims. “What more can I do, Devon? We should just face it. I’m going to have to have this baby.”
“No,” Devon shakes his head. “There has to be another way.”
“That’s the only clinic in Logoria that does abortion procedures, Devon,” Tammie sniffs. “Where else can we go?”
Devon exhales. “I’ve got to make some phone calls, Tammie. I’ll drop you off at home, and call you tonight, okay?”
Tammie nods silently. Her mind is swimming. Devon doesn’t seem at all enthused about keeping the baby. The only thing on his mind seems to be getting rid of it.
“I’ll call you,” Devon repeats as he drops Tammie off at her house. As she walks inside she ponders their situation. What if he doesn’t call her back? What if this is the end of their relationship? Tammie has already sacrificed so much for them to be together. She’s lied to her mother, her grandmother, and even her best friend. Tammie weeps in her hands, too overcome to go inside. She really does miss her best friend.
Jennifer has been pushed to the back of her mind for months now; but as Tammie stands by her house, alone, she realizes how much their friendship had strengthened her in the past. If things were different, Tammie would be leaning on Jen’s shoulder now, telling her everything that happened and how hurt she was feeling.
Jennifer seems eager to restore their relationship. Maybe they can reconcile, after all. Tammie wipes her tears and goes inside, but is immediately confronted by her mother.
“Tammie, we need to talk,” she grabs Tammie’s arm and drags her into the living room.
“About what?” Tammie asks as calmly as she can.
“About your so-called sleepover,” her mother replies.
“What’s wrong?” Tammie feigns ignorance.
“Jennifer called today to see how you were doing,” her mother crosses her arms. Tammie swallows a lump in her throat as her grandmother walks into the room, equally as agitated.
“She also asked how my arm was,” the eldest McLeod adds. “I didn’t realize there was anything wrong with my arm.”
“Tammie, what’s going on?” her mother demands. “I want answers!”
Tammie shakes her head. “Unbelievable,” she mutters.
“What was that?” her mother shrieks. “Tammie Michelle McLeod, you tell me what’s going on and you tell me now! Is it that boy? Huh? That little white boy I keep seeing you with?”
Tammie opens her mouth wide in shock. Is their opinion so high of Devon and so low of her that they can’t figure things out?
“Yeah, it’s Max,” Tammie answers sarcastically. “Max and I were shooting, snorting and making out last night.”
“Watch your tone, young lady,” her grandmother interjects.
Tammie shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but I wasn’t expecting to be ambushed as soon as I walked in the door.”
“And I wasn’t expecting to be lied to!” her mother replies in a hurt tone. “We used to be so cl
ose, and ever since you met that boy, you’ve been lying to me!”
“Devon?” Tammie questions.
“Max!” Her mother throws her hands up in exasperation. “And speaking of Devon, have you even thought to consider his feelings in this whole matter? How do you think he’ll feel if you’ve been sneaking around with this boy behind his back? How can you be so selfish?”
Tammie has had enough. “What did you expect from me, mom? I learned from the best!”
“Excuse me?’ her mother fumes.
Tammie wipes away the tears falling down her face. “You’ve have men come in and out of this house since I was in diapers, and not once did you consider how that affected us!”
“That’s enough,” her mother says.
“No, let me finish!” Tammie doesn’t think it is enough. Not nearly enough. “All you ever think about is what you need. You need a man, you need a fix, you don’t want to be lonely. Did you ever think that some of these men were dangerous? That they might hurt you, or one of us? Were you too busy having a good time to notice the way those men were looking at your kids? Of the dozens of pigs you’ve brought in here, at least five have made a pass at me. Two of them have touched me in a way that still makes me hate myself, and one of them-” Tammie pauses as a sob catches in her throat. “One of them hurt me, mom. He made me touch him and then he hit me.”
Tammie’s grandmother gasps, looking at Tammie, and then at her daughter.
Tammie continues. “You had to have noticed something. You had to have known something. No mother could be that blind. But you never said a word. You pretended that nothing happened, that everything was fine. You never asked me about it. You never said anything to me. Never. So you don’t have the right to say anything to me now.”
Tammie’s mother stands, speechless. Tammie shakes her head and rushes to her room.
“Tammie,” her grandmother calls out softly, reaching out her hand to her as she passes, but Tammie doesn’t stop.
The eldest McLeod looks at her daughter, but Sadie McLeod cannot return her gaze. Instead she grabs her keys and purse.
“I have to go to work, mama,” she states quickly.
“Sadie, she needs you,” Mrs. McLeod pleads. But her daughter simply shakes her head.
“I can’t deal with this now. I have to go to work.”
Tammie’s grandmother watches her daughter leave and hears her granddaughter’s cries. She feels helpless, for the first time in a long time, and prays for guidance for each of them.
Love Me Page 12
