Damita decided not to go to her own doctor to get an abortion and instead chose to go to a private clinic.
When she arrived with Wendy she stopped at the front desk and Wendy found a seat in the waiting room. A rather portly Hispanic woman, wearing a blue uniform with ducks all over it, handed Damita a clipboard and a cup.
“Please go to the restroom and give us a urine sample. Wipe front to back with one of the sealed packets in the restroom, then use the cup to get your sample. Make sure it’s not the first stream. Urinate just a little, then catch the second stream. When you’re done, write your name on the label on the cup. There will be something to write with in the bathroom. Bring the sample back to me. Then, have a seat in the waiting room and fill out these forms. Wait for your name to be called. I’ll also need you to sign in here,” the woman said, pointing out another clipboard with a long list of names.
Damita sat next to Wendy and began filling out the rather lengthy set of forms. When she was done, she looked around the antiseptic-looking waiting room. All over the walls were pictures of women and children. There were advertisements about STDs and pregnancy options. She turned her focus away from the office and to the women sitting in the office. Some of the women appeared sad, others worried. Damita wondered why she wasn’t feeling any of those things. She looked at the assortment of men in the office, and couldn’t help but feel anger toward them. She didn’t know any of the men there or their circumstances. However, she despised them all for no other reason than the fact that they were men. Throughout her life, Damita had encountered women that many considered man haters. She never wanted nor expected to ever be one of those women. Yet, here she was feeling unreasonable hate against people she didn’t even know. Wendy kept reassuring her because she thought that’s what she needed. But, what Damita really needed was to confront Neal. She felt so manipulated by him. He had used coercion to get what he wanted. He hadn’t changed a bit. She wanted him to know that he hadn’t won.
The woman who handed her the clipboard called her name.
“Ms. Whitmore, are you done with your paperwork?”
“Yes,” Damita responded, from across the room.
“Please come with me.”
Damita approached the desk, handed the woman the clipboard and then followed the woman to the back of the office.
Damita received some counseling and information from a tall female social worker with dirty-blonde hair, who seemed charged with the role of reassuring her. Damita listened to her voice and decided that she was probably Jewish. The social worker then brought Damita back to the woman at the front desk, who was wearing the duck uniform and she paid for the procedure. After that she was ushered to another room where she put on two medical gowns and was given an ultrasound by a slim, stone-faced East Indian woman, before being retrieved by yet another woman. This time it was a short, round-looking black woman, wearing a pale green uniform with pants that made a squishing sound when she walked. Damita wondered why so many people were required for one procedure. Soon, it was time for the actual procedure. The doctor doing the procedure was the only man she had seen other than the husbands and boyfriends sitting in the waiting room. She wondered if there were no men working there because of the nature of the procedures being performed. Shortly after lying on her back and putting her legs in stirrups, the doctor performed a pelvic examination. As many times as she had been to a gynecologist, lying on a table, naked, with your legs spread-eagle while someone explored your most private area, never got easy. The pelvic exam she was receiving was by far the worst she had ever had. She tried to stare at the ceiling above and take deep breaths in order to calm herself. Finally, she was instructed by the anesthesiologist to count back from one hundred, signaling her entry into La-La Land.
Damita woke up to find yet another woman, this time a white and very pale, yet cheery, redhead in a pink uniform, standing over her.
“How do you feel, Ms. Whitmore?” the woman asked, with a smile.
“I’m fine,” Damita responded, eventually.
She handed Damita a sanitary napkin and her clothing.
“There are cookies, crackers and juice in the next room if you’d like to sit awhile after you’ve dressed.”
“Where can I put on my clothes?” Damita asked.
“Right around the corner there,” the woman said, pointing to the right.
After changing, Damita considered grabbing a quick snack, but when she saw how many other women were also there, she decided against it. She had no desire to socialize. Instead she took her post-procedure information, and met Wendy in the lobby.
“You okay?” Wendy asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Thanks, Wendy. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“No problem. I didn’t mind at all, but I’m curious. How come you didn’t ask Carmella?”
“What do you mean?” Damita asked.
“Well, we’re cool and all, but Carmella’s your girl.”
“I knew if I asked you I wouldn’t have to go through a whole bunch of explaining. One of the downsides to having friends that you have known since childhood is, at some point, nothing is considered personal.”
“I completely get it. I’m glad you considered me enough of a friend to feel comfortable asking.”
“Of course you’re my friend.”
“Now, let’s get you home. You could use some rest.”
Damita was happy to find Neal was not at home when she got there. She was also happy to see that he must have, surprisingly, listened to her when she asked him not to have the driver keep such close tabs on her. It was her assumption that if he were still following her, today would have definitely been the day that she was confronted. She considered picking up her new birth control prescription, but decided she would do it when she went to work. From now on she would leave her pills at work and take them there. Although, she wasn’t sure she would ever want to willingly have sex with Neal again. She decided she would take Wendy’s advice and get some rest. She was asleep within a matter of minutes.
Neal was in a good mood when he got home and even though Damita was pissed off about what he had done, she decided it was in her best interest not to rub it in his face that she had taken matters into her own hands.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Neal said.
“Hey.”
“You okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m okay. My period is kicking my butt this month. That’s all.”
“Oh. You want some tea?”
“Tea would be nice.”
“I’ll cook dinner tonight,” Neal said.
“Thanks!”
After dinner, they watched television for a short while. Damita then excused herself and went to bed.
“I’ll be in after the news,” Neal said.
“Okay.”
Damita hoped he would fall asleep on the couch, as he sometimes did. However, he got into bed with her sometime around eleven-thirty. She was happy she had mentioned that it was her time of the month; at least she wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to have sex with her. However, it didn’t stop him from pulling her into his arms as soon as he got into bed. Once he was asleep, Damita removed his arms from around her and moved as far to the other side of the bed as possible.
The next morning Damita made sure she was up and out of the house before Neal woke up. Her recent procedure still fresh in her memory, Neal was the last person she wanted to see. She figured she could use the time to fully commit her energy to her work. When she arrived at the office at seven forty-five, she was surprised to find that Mr. Underhill was already there.
“Now, that’s what I like to see; my employees in the office bright and early and ready to take on the world.”
“That I am. Anything good going on?” Damita asked.
“Indeed. We’re romancing Kushner and Sloate.”
“Are you kidding me? That corporation has been on my wish list since I got into this game.”
“I’m happy to hear you say that, because I want you to be the one to bring them in. Despite the high praise you have given some of your colleagues, you’re the woman for the job.”
“Thanks, Mr. Underhill. I appreciate your confidence in me. I won’t let you down.”
“Please see to it that you don’t.”
Damita said, “I’m on it.”
“And, Damita, there’s a bit more to sweeten the pot.”
“Please, tell me more!” she said, excitedly.
“If you nail this, there’s a VP spot with your name on it. Now, get to work.”
“I will!”
When Wendy got in the office at nine, she made a beeline straight to Damita’s office and shut the door.
“Well, I hear congratulations are in order, you heifer!”
“You heard already?”
“You know the rumor mill around here. Not only that, Kevin Wilson is fighting mad that he’s not in the running for that VP spot or that Underhill didn’t think he was capable of getting Kushner and Sloate, especially since Kevin has been running screens and researching Kushner for years now.”
“Who hasn’t? Any investment banker worth their salt has had Kushner and Sloate on their radar for years. I’m sure we’re not the only firm that is trying to get their business.”
“Yeah, I know. I wanted to congratulate you and warn you that Kevin, and maybe even some other folks around here, might be less than cooperative given their resentment.”
“What about you? You still got my back?” Damita asked.
“Hell yeah, I got your back. You earned this. Before you got married and got in that car accident, you spent more hours in this place than you did at home. You deserve it.”
“But what about you? Didn’t you want it, too?” Damita asked.
“Our goals have always been different, Damita. We don’t want or need the same things. I told you. I’m good at what I do, but I don’t need this. I would be just as happy finding true love and being a portly housewife.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Yes, I would. I work because I have to, not because I love it. That’s the difference between you and me. That’s exactly why you deserve it. As far as Kevin Wilson, he doesn’t have the stuff. You do.”