This Will Only Hurt a Little(25)

But she just reached over and grabbed my hand and said, “No. No. What we have here is a case of two very young people letting their emotions get the better of them and making a bad choice.”

If this abortion didn’t kill me, my mother’s description of me becoming sexually active certainly might.

The doctor explained the procedure so I would know exactly what was happening. He said I could be put under, in a twilight sleep, if I wanted. I did. A series of rods would then be used to open the cervix enough to get the tools needed into the uterus to remove the fetus. Before you leave, they make sure they’ve gotten it all. All of the baby fetus. That’s also why you have to wait a bit for a traditional abortion; they need it to be big enough that they can make sure it’s all out. It’s still super tiny, by the way, like only an inch and a half, maybe. Then there might be some cramping and bleeding for a week or so after. Maybe not. You can’t use tampons or have sex for four weeks.

Mine was scheduled for the following Thursday morning.

On Wednesday, Ben brought me a flower to school, which was nice but also, like. . . what the fuck am I supposed to do with this? Plus, then people at school kept asking me if it was my birthday. Nope! Just getting an abortion tomorrow!

My mom took me in early the next morning. I was already crying. The nurse petted my head softly while I got the IV. I went to sleep and woke up to some juice and the nurse telling me that my mom was waiting outside and that it was over.

“It’s okay, baby,” my mom said in the waiting room. “Let me help you put on your shoes.”

I nodded gratefully to her.

We went home and I slept the rest of the day. Ben didn’t call me that day or the next. I lay in bed all day Friday crying. My mom had to fly to Omaha, where Leigh Ann was in college, because she was in a play that weekend. I begged her not to go. I didn’t want her to leave me with my dad. I needed her to take care of me.

“I’m sorry, Busy. I have to go.”

My parents told me that Leigh Ann didn’t need to know about my abortion, because it would just upset her. We should just move forward like it never happened, and since I was now on the pill, it wouldn’t happen again. My dad tried to check in on me, but I didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t comfort me; he didn’t know how. He sort of just lingered by my door, asking if I wanted anything.

“No. Thanks, Dad.”

He nodded and headed off. Ben finally called Saturday morning before he went to work. He wanted me to come out that night with him to his sister’s high school theater production.

“It’s just like people reciting poetry and monologues they’ve written, I think.”

I asked my dad if I could go out and he looked at me sternly and said, “You know, I’d rather you not, Elizabeth.”

“Well, it’s like a school thing,” I told him. “So I’ll be fine.”

The truth was, I wasn’t fine. But I wanted to see my boyfriend and make sure he still loved me and what was I going to do at home all weekend with my dad? Sit in my room and cry? I was still bleeding and cramping, but it was just a school thing.

Ben and Melanie picked me up in her car, which smelled like menthol cigarettes. Ben pulled his seat forward so I could squeeze in the back. I hadn’t realized she was coming, or, I guess I should say, that we were going with her.

“What time is the thing?” I asked as I got in.

“Oh . . .” Ben said as he lit up a cigarette, “. . . we’re not going. That seems so lame. We’re gonna go to Melanie’s friend’s party.”

“Oh.” I tried my best not to cry. We pulled up to a dingy house in Phoenix that was decorated cheaply for Halloween. As soon as we walked in, Ben took off to see if he could find Grant, and I lingered by the door.

“How do you feel?” Ben’s friend Alex was suddenly next to me. “You want a rum and coke or something?”

“Oh. No. I’m okay. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Yeah. It’s rough. My friend Kelly had an abortion last year—do you know Kelly? She said it was fine and everything, but it still sucked. So . . .”

In retrospect, this conversation was fairly evolved for a sixteen-year-old boy to even strike up. I mean, he could’ve just ignored it all together, but I really think he was doing his best to try to make me feel better. I waited a while and then went to find Ben, who was in the back of the house with Grant and Melanie, getting high.

“Can we go? I don’t feel great and you’re not even hanging out with me so—”

He jumped up and put his arm around my neck and kissed me on the forehead. “Yeah. Of course. Maybe in like a half an hour?”

“I guess. Sure. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

I found the gross dirty bathroom with its ugly chipped Spanish tile and sat on the toilet and bled into it and cried. For myself. For my unborn baby. For the fact that I was pretty sure that my boyfriend might be a drug addict. What the fuck? Why was I here in this house with these people? I got up and went out front and found Alex again.

“Hey. Can you drive me home? I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, dude. This party sucks anyway.”

I bummed a cigarette off him and got in his car as Ben was coming out the front. He looked annoyed. “What the fuck, Busy?”

“Alex is gonna take me home. I couldn’t find you and I don’t feel well.” My eyes welled with tears.