Linn stepped off the bus and moved away from the tourist traffic. Once out of the way, she paused and took a breath. The diesel fumes caught in her throat and hung there. Her stomach churned, and she covered her nose with her hand. Lately, her stomach rebelled at smells. In the two weeks since the pregnancy test, it felt as if someone else controlled her body.
When her dad had cooked garlic chicken the night before, she thought she’d toss her cookies for sure. She’d only avoided it by going outside until dinner was over. She hated to puke. It reminded her of the time she’d stayed home from school sick in the third grade. Her dad had been home with her, and when she’d vomited all over her sheets, he’d made her clean it up. She could almost smell the sour stench now.
And if her stomach wasn’t churning, her heart was racing, making her dizzy. Her emotions were a wreck, too. Two nights ago she’d cried when an old lady won a trip to Bermuda on Wheel of Fortune.
Linn uncovered her nose and started walking. Cars sped by, mostly tourists, probably off to see Old Faithful or go whitewater rafting. If only her plans for the afternoon were so insignificant.
Her thoughts swarmed like a dozen angry bees. She tried to push them away, but they kept returning. In desperation, she’d called her high-school guidance counselor at home. At first Miss Turley had seemed aggravated to be bothered, but when Linn explained her problem, she’d asked to meet her at the Shady Nook Café. Miss Turley’s words replayed in her mind like a recording. Of course, it’s your choice, Linn, but why would you want to throw away the scholarship you’ve earned? Getting an abortion is really no big deal. They just scrape away the tissue, and it’s over. Really harmless. Why would you want to ruin the rest of your life?
Linn had left the café with her mind set. The counselor had been so convincing, Linn wondered if she’d had an abortion herself. Either way, she had to be right. She was a woman and a counselor. And when she’d seen her father tuck an envelope of cash into the coffee cupboard, Linn had thought it was a sign. She should just do it. By the time her dad missed the money, it would be over. She would pay it back eventually.
But now, all the counselor’s points seemed as shaky as a rickety table. She couldn’t forget that picture Miss C had shown her. It kept burrowing into her mind with the persistence of a termite. Everyone said it was only tissue this early on. Not a baby, just a lump of cells.
Could that picture be true?
No. Everyone else couldn’t be wrong. They taught all about it at school. Smart people with degrees and everything. What did she know about this Miss C? Never mind the way the woman had looked into her heart. Never mind that it had been a long time since anyone had touched her so gently and listened to her so closely.
When she reached the end of the block, she made a right. One more block. A few yards away, a pregnant woman in a denim jumper approached on the other side of the sidewalk. The woman sipped on a water bottle as she passed. If I don’t do something, I’ll look like that in a few months. The thought rattled her and warmed her at the same time.
Her heart began racing, and she wondered if it was the pregnancy or her nerves. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she stopped, wavering like a chairlift on a windy day. Her vision blackened down to two small focal points. She blinked and caught hold of a brick ledge on the building beside her, fearing she might faint. Slowly, the focal points widened until the black haze faded away.
Her stomach rumbled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten lunch. Only some crackers for breakfast. Too late now.
She began walking again and saw ahead a green canopy with the words “Women’s Health Clinic” written in neat, white script. Her heart tumbled in her chest. Her legs quivered like cooked noodles. She neared the entrance, her thoughts spinning, her vision clouding.
They just scrape away the tissue, then it’s over.
Abortions don’t solve problems; they just create new ones.
They just scrape away the tissue, then it’s all over.
One even committed suicide.
It’s just a blob of tissue.
All the organs have formed; the heart is beating.
Linn opened the heavy wooden door and entered the lobby. Soft: tones of beige and clay surrounded her. Everything seemed surreal, as if someone else was looking out her eyes. She approached the window, where a kindly, middle-aged woman shuffled a stack of papers.
“May I help you?”