I Should've Known Better
"Does it not mean anything to you? Was it not a big deal?!" he screeched into the phone reciever.
It was the most devastating thing that had ever happed to me. It hurt me far more than he'd ever know. Or maybe he did know, but maybe that made it harder for him to understand. He is my ex-boyfriend. We went out for 16 and 1/2 months. I thouhgt we were in love, it sure felt that way. We fought like cats and dogs, but he had the most perfect hands and the gentlest touch, so we always made up.
"James, you know how much this hurt me. You KNOW I'll have to live with this for the rest of my life!" I cried.
It all started on Father's Day. We had been dating for 1 and 1/2 months. I thought it was time. I thought I was ready. My mom was mad at me becuase I was not going to spend time with my stepdad on Father's Day, but James was already on his way over. I checked my hair and make-up, grabbed the condoms I had bought, and I walked out the door. We had sex that day, and many days afterwards. We had sex ALL THE TIME, throughtout our entire relationship, from that point on. Eventually, we stopped using condoms.
"I think I might be pregnant." I mumbled. I tried to say it casually, but I knew it would not come out that way. We were in the kitchen, at his house, eating turkey and swiss sandwiches.
"It's been over a month since I've had my period and my stomache's cramping really badly." I continued.
He didn't know what to say. I couldn't blame him. I didn't either. So he told his dad, but his dad lived in another state and had to send us a pregnancy test through the mail. I was so scared. Of course, there's no single word to describe how I felt. We had always talked about how we wanted to get married, someday, and have a baby. I wanted a girl. He always hinted that he wanted a boy. We knew that if we ever did, that he or she would have brown hair, big beautiful brown eyes, thick eyebrows, and long beautiful eyelashes... James and I both do.
Tears already brimmed in my eyes as I sat down on the floor...
"Mom, I've got to talk to you."
... But i couldn't. Not with my stepdad in the room. So we went out onto the stairs. As I sat down, tears came flooding out. I was so scared, and disappointed, and worried.
"Mom, I'm pregnant." I cried.
OH GOD. NOW SHE KNOWS. SHE'S DISAPPOINTED. ASHAMED. WHAT IS SHE GOING TO DO? WHAT IS SHE GOING TO SAY? HOW WILL SHE REACT?
My mind raced. She asked me how, and why, and when, and then she asked the one question that I did not have the an answer to:
"Well, what are you going to do?"
I didn't know. I had asked myself that, a million times. I had plans for my future. I was going to go to college and become a psychologist or a journalist or a writerr. I was going to have a nice house, and never have to struggle the way my parents always did.
"Do you want to keep it... or do you want to look into an abortion?"
ABORTION? WHAT DO I THINK? AREN'T THEY WRONG? I THOUGHT THEY WERE AGAINST THE RULES. MAYBE NOT LEGALLY, BUT MORALLY. I CAN'T DO THAT... BUT I CAN'T HAVE A BABY.?
"Marley Cash?"
She pronounced my name wrong. That's not relevant now, though. The nurse brought me back to a room where I sat and waited to get my blood drawn and my blood pressure checked. As I sat there, I thought back to a few days earlier when I had talked to a lady over the phone about what they called my "procedure." She told me the side effects, the risks, and how it would be done. She also told me that I should expect protesters to be outside and not to freak out.
PROTESTERS? SHOULDN'T I BE OUT THERE PROTESTING WITH THEM?
Then another girl came in. She was about 19, short, black, and kind of grungy looking. She chit-chatted with the nurse and talked about the baby she already had, and the baby's father. I found myself thinking that she must have been a slut.
BUT DOESN'T THAT MAKE ME A SLUT TOO? IS THAT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE WILL THINK OF ME? I'M A GOOD PERSON. I HAVE GOOD GRADES AND I'M SMART. I SMOKE CIGARETTES, BUT I'VE COME A LONG WAY. I USED TO SMOKE WEED AND DRINK AND I REALLY DIDN'T CARE ABOUT SCHOOL. NOT NOW, THOUGH. I QUIT ALL OF THAT NOW, AND I'M GRADUATING A YEAR EARLY. I'M DIGNIFIED... BUT WHAT WILL PEOPLE THINK OF ME IF THEY FIND OUT?
After the doctor gave me an ultrasound and had me take a pregnancy test, the nurses gave me some vicaden and naperson to control the pain and another pill to clot the bleeding, when I do bleed. The nurse took me to a room where she told me to undress from the waist down, put a paper sheet over my legs, get up on the table, and put my feet into the stirrups. Then she left. When she came back in, the doctor was with her. He was a hippie-looking, older man. I figured it made sense, though. I mean, he had to have had loose morals to kill babies for a living. The nurse gave me some gas to suck on and told me to relax.
EASIER SAID THAN DONE.
Then I noticed that there was a poster on the ceiling. It was a picture of an ocean floor. It had sharks, dolphins, seahorses, coral, seaweed, and crystal blue water. I noticed a starfish tucked away in the corner of the poster. By this time the doctor had his finger inside of me, trying to figure out which way my ovaries tilted. I felt traumatized, I had never even been to an gynecologist before. I remembered that just the day before, I was learning about starfish in biology. They are crustaceans, you know? I talked to the doctor and nurse about them. I told them everything I knew about them, from their ampulas to their circulatory systems. Then I passed out.
I was fifteen.
What a shame.
I was just a baby.
I still am.
"Marley!" he said.
"What?"
"Do you love me?" he asked.
It's all over now. No James, no baby. Just a pain that twinges inside of me everytime I see a commercial for diapers, or an adorable little girl, with brown hair, brown eyes, and beautiful, long eyelashes. I was just a baby... i still am. I always did have to find things out the hard way.
McP 12-1-01
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