What an Abortion

I’m glad you’re not working. I mean, that you could drive. Been up all night thinking about this morning. Coming here today. Taken me weeks to decide. Weeks. Couldn’t do it by myself. Probably taken a cab. Mom called early from East Coast. Wanted to know what I’d decided. Asked what Bob thought. What do you think I told her? You know how I feel about the whole thing. I told her it wasn’t any of his business. I mean, we’re separated, for God’s sake. Bob’s got a divorce lawyer ready to file. He doesn’t know about this. None of it. So what’s the fucking point of even asking him? Of course, I didn’t tell mom that. She always throws a fit whenever I curse. Doesn’t matter that I’m over thirty. But you and me driving to the clinic today. None of it was supposed to happen. Bob was going to get a good job with the city and I was going to get a teaching credential. Remember how happy he was after he graduated? Instead, he’s a short order cook at some café on the strip drinking himself to sleep every night. Every week bottles stacked high in the recycling bin. Starts smacking me around. And now it’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. Why’s that, Cynthia? My fault because I married him? I hate crying in front of you. I know you have your own problems. Don’t think that I don’t. But I can’t have this baby now. I’m moving out of the house next week, after the procedure. D’you understand? Better slow down. There’s a cop over there. This kid’s gonna have to wait. And the clinic. It’s supposed to be the only one in the state that hasn’t been picketed by those right-to-lifers waving pictures of dead babies. So gross. I swear if I ever saw anything like that, I’d vomit. Right on the spot. Anyway, I’ve been feeling queasy. They say that’s normal. My breasts have grown. If I weren’t getting a divorce, this might be fun. For the first time in my life, I’m a size B. I don’t know what I saying. Those stupid people. Their preachers collecting thousands of dollars on TV every Sunday morning, and adoption agencies selling babies on the market. That’s right. I heard about that one. Babies for sale. Really. One of these days. But not now. Not now, little kid, d’you hear me in there? Not when there’s so much shouting and screaming and black eyes. That kind of stuff rubs off. Not the way to grow a life. Not inside me. It’s not right. I want to be the kind of mother who glows. Why are you stopping, Cynthia? The clinic’s on the other side of the highway. Why are we stopping here at the Denny’s? This is where Bob works, for God’s sake. This is where Bob works!

About Lenore Weiss

Lenore's collections include "Tap Dancing on the Silverado Trail" (2011) from Finishing Line Press, “Sh’ma Yis’rael” (2007) from Pudding House Publications, and "Cutting Down the Last Tree on Easter Island" (West End Press, 2012). Her writing has won recognition from Poets&Writers (finalist in California Voices contest) and as a finalist for Pablo Neruda Prize, Nimrod International Journal. The Society for Technical Communication has recognized her work regarding Technical Literacy in the schools. All material is copyrighted on this site and cannot be used without the author's permission.
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