The call that I’ve been waiting for finally comes in. The clinic has set dates for IVF. The calendar in my phone now reads December first, Gym with Elle. It’s the first in a line of many gym dates, ust in case Camden gets nosey—though it’s doubtful.
I allow myself a bit of hope, imagining two pink lines. It conjures the memory of when it happened before, and for once, it doesn’t break my heart. I’ve spent so much time torturing myself over not getting pregnant and keeping secrets that I’d begun to believe I’d ruined my chances when I chose an abortion all those years ago. That’s simply not true; it was only the catalyst for discovering the extent of my reproductive issues.
The reframing in my mind helps counteract the heaviness that’s refused to leave my chest over doubling my debts. No, more than double, with Larry breathing down my neck so much. Add in the interest that I need to pay because I had to pay Jared instead of the credit card companies.
Despite my urgency to get our endeavors rolling, Elle’s demanded that I leave her alone for a solid two weeks while she works on other things. She set a locked box meant for packages on her porch and has given me explicit directions to drop off one item at a time, every other day, from the basement collection.
If she doesn’t keep up her end of the bargain, I’ll be in deep trouble, but so far, she’s proven honorable—as much as she can be—bypassing my little test. On my third visit to her new lock box, I left a standard set of diamond studs. It was a risk, but since I can’t go back to Second Love, and they’re not buying diamond earrings anyway, I wouldn’t be missing much other than the studs, which I rarely wear. An hour after I made the drop, she sent me a picture of the earrings and declared that they weren’t hers.
Somehow, Elle’s probably the only person I can trust right now. Whether she’s a thief is the least of my worries with these demanding men in my life.
“Larry,” I say, approaching the man at the bar.
“Well, hello, sweetheart.” He spins to face me, a wry grin on his face.
“I’ve told you not to call me that,” I snap. “You lost the privilege a long time ago.”
“Don’t be like that,” he purrs, mocking me.
I slam three bills next to him on the shimmering black counter.
“Three hundred should do,” I say.
“Three hundred isn’t a thousand, sweetheart.”
Chills crawl up my spine just as a fresh wave of anxiety wraps its fingers around me.
“You know that money doesn’t grow on trees.” I try to sound tough, but it comes out wobbly.
“So then, interest-only payment? That’s what this is?”
What’s with all these men and their obsession with charging interest?
“I’ll get you the money, Larry. Just leave my mom alone.”
My secret needs to stay between us, but more than that, he needs to stay out of her life. I worked hard after he left to heal her heart and to show that I wouldn’t be a failure like him, until he started reaching out, saying that he wanted to make amends. Until one night at a college party that led to the one decision that I knew would make me a failure in my mother’s eyes. Perhaps that’s why I waited so long.
The abortion was later than it should have been—I was broke, broken, scared, and so naïve. I didn’t know about Planned Parenthood, or other options available to someone like me. Instead, I borrowed money from Larry and took a pill that wasn’t enough.
Eventually, I had to go to a hospital, where I had an ultrasound, which confirmed that I’d need a D&C to remove the remaining products of conception. It was then that I learned about my endometriosis. Apparently, it’s not visible with imaging unless it’s bad.
The doctor removed the endometriosis and remaining tissue in surgery that same day. I remember the disdain in the nurse’s voice afterward. I was waking up from the anesthesia but hadn’t opened my eyes yet, so I pretended to still be asleep as she spoke to someone else in the room. She said that I was lucky to get pregnant with how much endometriosis they’d found. How was it that people like me, who were so young and pretty, who were carefree and careless, who got pregnant and chased it with an abortion for a contraceptive afterthought. It was never the people who wanted to get pregnant who did.
A scorned nurse kept me from telling anyone else about the abortion. I knew that if I told my mom, she’d be angry and so incredibly hurt. I try not to imagine what it would have been like if I’d chosen differently or if I hadn’t been allowed to choose like so many women in the United States today. It’s hard to comprehend what it would be like having a fourteen-year-old today. I doubt that I could have managed to care for the child. I had been a broke college student, and my mother wouldn’t have been able to help financially or with care. I wonder whether Camden would have dated a single mother, whether he would have married one.
“This only buys so much time,” Larry says, slapping his hand on the money. He slides it off the counter then shoves it in his flannel top pocket.
“Time is all I need,” I answer, picking at my nails behind my back.
“Not too much, sweetheart.”
I cringe at his words, wishing I could erase his voice from my head and him from my life. My heart cracks a little. Some men deserve none of the love, but get it anyway.
As I turn to leave, he says, “I found a dusty, old ultrasound printout. I sure do miss your mom. Would love to show her the tiny bean’s picture—from before you had it killed.”
My entire body has a jarring sensation, but I don’t stop moving—don’t acknowledge his words at all—because I can’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten to me.
I can’t let him know that despite everything, I’m still a desperate little girl longing for my father’s adoration.