Nobody was in the lobby of the Starlite Motel, and if they were they probably wouldn’t pay attention to her anyway. Maggie sat in the cramped corner facing a desk with a really old computer on it. This was their version of free Wi-Fi. At least she could get online for a few moments.
Shifting in a hard seat she felt like she might fall out of, Maggie took the folded pamphlet from her coat pocket and read it again. It resembled any of the other dozen flyers that were on a display right next to her. Most of the ones in the lobby were for airline shuttles and local restaurants. The one in her hand was a little different.
She had looked at this printed piece for hours, seeing the picture of different women looking happy with their babies. Seeing couples and seeing outlines of a mother with her child. There was a number to call and a website to check out.
A sixteen-year-old shouldn’t be planning anything, especially a family.
She wanted to look up the website, but Maggie knew what it would say. Surely there would be advice and questions and answers and lots more faces of happy mothers with their beautiful children. Even young mothers, but they’d surely look happy and content. They wouldn’t have bags under their eyes from fear and from sleeplessness. They wouldn’t look alone and frightened and completely freaked out.
Maggie sighed and pressed the return button on the keyboard.
Then she deleted the name she had typed in the search line and started typing something else.
She quickly hit return before she could think about it anymore.
The list of websites she could go to seemed endless. But they all confirmed what she already knew. What deep down she already believed.
But maybe . . .
There were no maybes. Not anymore. The time period to have made that choice was months ago.
She wandered onto one page called “Fetal Development” and started to read.
32 weeks . . .
The baby is 17 inches long and weighs 4 pounds. . . .
The diameter of the head is almost 4 inches. . . .
The toenails and fingernails are completely formed. . . .
Completely formed.
The breathless feeling wasn’t due to the belly inside her. It was from this paralyzing fear of doing the wrong thing or doing the right thing in the absolute wrong way. Maybe she should have stopped and listened to her parents. Maybe she should have simply been smarter.
Maybe that Gideon Bible back in the room has some answers waiting.
She closed the Web pages and then shifted to stand. Maggie found the nearest garbage can and tossed the family planning flyer into it.
Her parents came to mind again.
Maybe it’s time to stop running and to call them again.
They weren’t going to break the law, but they also weren’t going to let her be a sixteen-year-old mother. Maggie wondered if she’d even see the baby if it was up to her mother and father. Probably not.
Maybe that’s for the best.
Walking back to her motel room, her hand found its way to her belly and rested on it. It had become a natural thing to do, even if none of this was natural. But running had felt the same way, too.
Maggie didn’t want the supposed best for her. But she didn’t want to run anymore. Eventually, there would be no more time to run.
The pastor’s words filled her mind.
“If anything comes up, you just call. Okay?”
Just call.
Easier said than done.
Yeah, something’s come up. It’s four pounds with a four-inch head and fully formed fingernails and toenails.
She wondered what the pastor would say to that. Surely he’d be like the rest of the adults in her life. They’d have some plan and some prescription to give to her, then they’d simply want to pass her along to someone else.
Maggie was tired of being passed over and passed around. At least now, out here, she could take action herself. She could make the decisions. She could stop and make the choices she needed to make.
Maybe, sooner or later, she’d figure out what those happened to be.