This Will Only Hurt a Little(24)

“You have until Monday. I’m calling her first thing Monday morning. I know you’ll make the right decision. I know you don’t want to go to hell. I know you don’t want Ben to go to hell, either. You can give the baby up for adoption. And give this child a wonderful life.”

I collected my things and headed for the door, Ben following me like a puppy with his tail between his legs. We sat outside and waited for my mom to show up. I asked if maybe he could get the money from Melanie or Alex, who both had jobs and then maybe he could convince his parents over the weekend not to tell my parents. He thought maybe he could do that. When the car pulled up, I hugged Ben goodbye and got in, barely looking at my mom.

That night, I went out to the movies with Bailey and Tasha and I told the girls what had happened. Both of my friends were horrified. I mean, it was actually insane, when you think about it. But also, in my gut, I knew there was some truth to it. I knew it was a baby. Or rather, that she would become a baby, if I didn’t put an end to her. Somehow I also knew it was a girl. I could feel it.

By the end of the night, when Bailey dropped me off, I’d decided I wasn’t going to tell my parents. I would take my chances that Ben could somehow talk some sense into his mom and I’d be able to handle this on my own. When I went into the house, my parents were already in their room with the door closed and the light off, so I just got into bed and called Ben. He didn’t answer his line. I fell asleep crying.

Sometime in the night, I heard someone whispering my name. “Busy. Busy. Wake up, sweetie. I need you to wake up now.”

I half opened my eyes. “What?! Mom! What time is it??”

“Honey. It’s three. I need you to promise you won’t be mad. Okay?”

“What?!”

“Promise me you won’t be mad.”

I sat up, looking at my mom silhouetted by my hall light. “Mad about what?”

“Honey, your dad read your diary. Tonight while you were out. We need to know if it’s true.”

My heart sank. I wrote everything in there. The drugs. Sex. And of course, that I was pregnant. I lay back down and turned away from her and curled into a ball.

“Yes,” I said, meekly.

“Oh, honey.”

I started crying. My mom pulled me up and held me to her and let me cry, like how you hold a little kid when she’s skinned her knee.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“I know, honey. I know. Okay. You have to go tell your dad.”

“What? Can’t you???”

“No. Come on. Neither one of us has slept tonight. Let’s go.”

My mom and I walked across our house to my parents’ bedroom. My dad was curled up in bed. As soon as I hugged him, he started sobbing. My parents sandwiched me between them like they used to do when I was really little and I would sneak into their bed. I told them about Ben’s mom and what had happened. I told them that I had scheduled an abortion at a clinic.

“Busy. No. That is not happening. I’ll call Dr. Fisher in the morning and we’ll find someone good and private.”

I gave her a hug, weak with relief.

We stayed in bed talking until the sun came up and decided that we should go eat breakfast at the Good Egg. I slid into the booth and made my mom sit next to me, cuddling into her, and for the first time in a year felt like I could breathe. At one point, my dad said something about “other options” and my mother literally almost jumped across the booth to strangle him.

“There are no other options for Busy. Not another word about this.”

I looked at my dad, who shook his head and lowered his eyes. I knew he thought I was murdering a baby, too. And that I was probably going to hell. But he was willing to go along with it for my mom. And for me.

That night, my mom went into her home office to call Ben’s mother. I listened through the door as she started off in hushed tones. Then as her voice got louder and louder until she was yelling at the top of her lungs:

“MY DAUGHTER DID THIS? WHAT ABOUT YOUR SON?! DO YOU KNOW HE GAVE HER DRUGS?!”

and

“YOU HAVE NO PART IN THIS DECISION. THIS IS ABOUT MY FAMILY. AND WE WILL DO WHAT IS BEST FOR OUR FAMILY AND MY DAUGHTER.”

and

“QUITE FRANKLY, I DON’T THINK INTIMIDATING A SCARED FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD BY TELLING HER SHE’S GOING TO HELL IS A VERY CHRISTIAN THING TO DO!”

and

“DON’T YOU EVER SPEAK TO HER THAT WAY AGAIN OR YOU WILL HAVE SOME SERIOUS PROBLEMS ON YOUR HANDS. HOW DARE YOU!”

She hung up the phone, muttering to herself, and came out of the office.

“It’s fine,” she said. “That woman is crazy. I’m sorry she was so awful to you.”

The truth is, my mother is who you want in your corner when shit goes down. The way she put aside any of her own feelings about what was happening and just supported and loved me was staggering. I wish I had trusted that she would have taken care of me the year before, but there was no point in bringing up Trey now. One trauma at a time.

My mom was referred to an ob-gyn who performed private abortions. We went to his office and I had an internal ultrasound. I saw the little bean I would be getting rid of, her little heart fluttering. Mine fluttered too.

“I take it this was a rape situation?” the doctor said as my mom and I sat across from him afterward. I looked at my mother, aghast. What had she told them?