Текст книги "The Girl Of Diamonds and Rust"

Автор книги: Susan Ward

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER THREE

I sit on my bed and stare at the door. Even knowing Neil is waiting for me in the living room doesn’t make this any less frightening or awful.

I stare at the phone sitting on my nightstand. I could call Linda Rowan. She’d know how to reach Alan. Or I could just call Brian Craig, Alan’s manager. I’ve known Brian my entire life. Crap, I could even call Jack. Jack knows how to reach everyone. I could probably still call Alan before I do this…

No, Chrissie, no. Neil is wrong. It doesn’t matter. Alan is just going to tell you to have the abortion, anyway.

I stare down at the stupid, fuzzy socks I’m wearing. I remember something about Rene saying her feet got cold during the procedure—so like Rene to complain about her feet and talk about absolutely nothing useful to help me mentally prepare for what getting an abortion will be like. I could definitely use some insight since she’s the only girl I’ve ever known who has admitted to having an abortion—but gosh the socks look stupid peeking from between my tennis shoes and my sweatpants.

A knock on the door makes me jump and Neil lumbers in.

“You ready to go?” he asks quietly.

The tone of Neil’s voice makes my heart ache. Somehow I’ve dragged him into my abyss and between us there is a sense of shared misery. But it’s not. It’s not Neil’s baby, this isn’t Neil’s problem, and this isn’t Neil’s misery. It’s mine.

I nod, but my legs refuse my command and I continue to sit there, staring blankly at the phone.

Neil sinks down on the bed beside me. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Oh crap, I don’t want to rehash my decision again. For some reason, Neil doesn’t want me to do this. He hasn’t said it, but I can tell. He keeps asking me if I’m sure, as if any woman is really one-hundred percent sure about something like this.

My body tenses as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. It looks like he’s been running his fingers through his hair all day trying to work through something he’s been thinking about.

“I don’t get you, Chrissie. You don’t want to do this. I can tell. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. There are other choices.”

Oh, why did he have to say it? I fight back another wave of tears.

“It’s the right decision. I have to do it, Neil.”

His mouth tightens and he shakes his head. “No, you don’t.” He sighs heavily. “Christ, we can get married. We can raise the baby if you want to. You can tell everyone it’s mine. No one ever has to know it isn’t ours.”

My already roiling emotions start to twirl faster.

“God, Neil, I don’t need to get married so I don’t have to do this. I have plenty of money. Jack wouldn’t think anything of me having a baby and not being married. That’s not why I’m doing this.”

His jaw stiffens. “Then can you explain to me why you are doing something you obviously don’t want to?”

I stare down at my stupid, fuzzy socks. Trying to explain all this to Neil would be the worst kind of betrayal to Alan, and yet I don’t think I can make Neil understand without telling him one of Alan’s secrets. And he did just offered to marry me—he’s such a good guy—Neil deserves the truth.

“Only a handful of people know this, Neil, but Alan had a little girl named Molly.”

Neil’s face shoots up, his eyes filled with confusion and surprise. “Molly?” He pauses, as if trying to make sense of something, and then his expression changes into disbelief. “You mean the song Molly is about his daughter not Ecstasy? It’s not a song about drugs?”

“Death takes us all. I want it. I want you,” I quote sadly. “That’s not about addiction, Neil. It’s about how Alan didn’t want to live after his daughter died.”

“Fuck.” He stares at me. “What happened to her?”

No matter how I try to keep it away, that day in the barn when Alan told me about Molly rises vividly in my head. The way Alan looked. The expression in his eyes. I’m positive he wasn’t even aware of what he let surface on his face that day as he calmly told me about Molly’s death. But I can’t forget it. It’s haunted my every minute since I realized I was pregnant.

“She got sick and she died,” I say simply. “It was a fucked-up situation. I can’t have the baby and lie to him. That would be unfair to him. Especially with what I know about Alan’s history. And it would be unfair to you and to the child if I lied and said you were the father. I can’t do that. Not to you and not to him.”

Neil makes an obstinate shake of his head, and I can see that he thinks I’m wrong to care about Alan’s feelings in all this.

“But what do you want to do, Chrissie? You’ve given me a hundred reasons why this is what you should do, but you haven’t said a word about what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Then you shouldn’t do this,” Neil advises firmly.

I roll forward onto my feet and stand. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

I head toward the door, stop and look back at Neil. Reluctantly, he stands and follows me out of the condo.

We are both quiet as we drive to the clinic. My insides are tight, knotted bands that feel like lead somehow jumping anxiously within me. Worse than anything I’ve ever felt.

I stare out the window, fighting not to look at Neil. Jeez, I can’t believe he offered to marry me. Why would he do that? My exhaustion-dulled wits can’t find the energy to try to figure that one out.

Neil finds a parking spot across the street from the building and I wait in my seat as he pulls the key from the ignition, climbs from the driver’s side, and trots around the Volvo to get my door.

He takes my hand and I stare down at his fingers laced through mine as we slowly work our way through traffic to the other side of the street.

I don’t know what I would do if Neil wasn’t with me. It’s so much harder than I imagined it would be. I don’t know how Rene went through this twice, alone. She didn’t tell me about either until after the procedure was done, and it hurt, really hurt, at the time that she didn’t. I sort of get it now. I haven’t told her about me.

Sadness moves across my jittery limbs. God, I don’t think I could get through this if Neil wasn’t willing to be here with me. I peek at him from the corner of my eye and my fingers tighten around his. I need Neil right now more than I have ever needed anyone. More than I’ve ever needed Alan. Or Jack. Or Rene.

As if he senses me watching him, Neil looks down at me. “It will be OK, Chrissie. I’ll stay with you through it all. It’s going to be OK.”

I’m not sure which one of us he’s trying to convince. Neil sounds worried and kind of despondent.

As we pass by the high stucco wall into the clinic parking lot, I wonder if that’s how we look to people today: worried and despondent. Like a couple going through shit. Only this isn’t our shit. It’s mine and Alan’s. Even if Alan doesn’t know it and Neil has only stepped in as some kind of nice guy surrogate.

He drops my hand and pulls back the glass door into the waiting room. I step in, pausing to let my eyes adjust to the change of light, and my gaze does a quick scan of the room. Jeez, it’s crowded, nearly every vinyl-covered metal chair is occupied, and there are a half a dozen girls working beyond the bulletproof safety glass. Bulletproof glass? God, what am I doing here?

Neil’s hand moves to my back, guiding me forward toward the counter. “You need to check in there,” he says quietly.

I nod, wondering why Neil seems to know more about what I’m supposed to do than I do. Maybe he’s been through this before. There is a lot about Neil’s history with his fucked-up ex-girlfriend that I still don’t know, but I’ve pretty much assumed that the parts he hasn’t shared with me were really intense and grim.

I take from the check-in nurse the clipboard shoved at me beneath the safety glass separating us.

“Fill that out. Answer all the questions, front and back, and bring it back when you’re done.”

Her tone of voice is abrupt, matter-of-fact and efficient in this moment that is anything but matter-of-fact to me.

“There are two chairs over there,” Neil says, and I follow him to the far side of the room and sink down beside him.

I stare down at the form, willing myself not to look back up at the other people here. Christ, it’s bad enough knowing why I’m here. I sure as hell don’t like knowing why they’re here. Of course, everyone is not here for an…

I tap my pen against the clipboard. Jesus Christ, what kind of questions are these? They make me feel like a slut just reading them…do you have safe sex?…what kind of birth control are you on?…how many sexual partners have you had?…how often do you have sex?…have you ever had an STD?

Why do they want to know all this? I don’t even want to know this about myself. Cringing, I drag my eyes back up to the first line, not finding that one any easier to answer than the rest of the questions. Name?

I freeze, unable to write. Damn, I hadn’t thought about that, putting my name on this form. A permanent record of the biggest Chrissie low point in my life. The pen hovers above the sheet and it feels like this becomes real, a forever part of me, the minute I put my name there.

Neil stares down at the clipboard, frowns, and leans into me. “What’s wrong?”

I move my face close to his ear and whisper, “I don’t want to tell them my name.”

Neil exhales a breath, ragged and impatient. “Chrissie, medical records are private. No one can access them. It’s no big deal. No one will ever find out about this unless you tell them. Fill out the form.”

My lids go wide. “How do you know people can’t find out about this? How do you know that?”

“I just do.” He looks aggravated, and he runs a hand through his hair again. He waits for me to fill out the form, and when I don’t, he exclaims, “Fine. Write ‘Chrissie Stanton.’ That way it won’t matter if anyone ever sees it.”

There’s a touch of bite in his voice and it leaves me feeling like I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me and really shitty about having Neil holding my hand through this.

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes you can. I told you to. It doesn’t matter. It’s no big deal. Do it.”

“It wouldn’t be right.”

Neil looks away, his jaw clenching slightly. “None of this is right, Chrissie. Just do it.”

I flush. I’m not sure what just made him angry, but my emotions are too much of a jumbled mess for me to ask and I don’t think I want to know.

I stare down and start to write. I can feel Neil watching me and I wonder if he’s reading my answers… sexual partners: two…have there really only been two? And why does that feel like a lie when it’s the truth? Oh crap, it is a lie. I forgot my one-night stand the August before I started seeing Neil. Does it matter that I lied?

The knots in my stomach grow tauter and I start to heavily check off boxes: no, no, no, no, no. I check no even on the questions I don’t understand because there are a couple I don’t understand. How lame is that? Twenty-two years old and not even able to understand all the questions on a women’s health medical questionnaire. Where do people learn this stuff?

After I’ve been still for a while, Neil holds out his hand. “You done?”

I nod, and he takes the clipboard from me. I watch him amble to the counter and shove it under the partition.

He sits back down beside me, his body close but not touching, and I don’t like the feel of his stoic remoteness. My leg starts to jiggle in that way it does when I’m trying to keep myself from freaking out. The wait is unbearable. I just want this over with…

“Miss Stanton?”

I look up to see a nurse standing in an open doorway, staring down at a clipboard. Neil goes to his feet.

He holds out his hand to me. “Chrissie. Come on.”

My legs are weak and shaky, but somehow they manage to hold my weight. As I cross the room, Neil moves with me. I hadn’t realized he was planning to go in with me. I thought he’d just wait in the lobby.

I stop at the door. “Neil, you don’t have to do this.”

His lips tighten and he nods, but he doesn’t release my hand. He continues with me into the examination room.

Neil drops down in a chair on the far side of the room as the nurse makes a sharp tug to spread new sterile paper on the exam bed. She shoves a cup at me, orders me to pee in it, then to undress and put on a gown.

The door closes and I stare at Neil. I’m uncomfortable about having him here, even though he’s seen me naked hundreds of times. Why is it different here? I organize the gown on the table so I can pull it on fast, and do a quick check at Neil—his eyes are unwaveringly staring out the window. I jerk off my sweatshirt, pull the gown in place, and then remove my other garments.

I hurry into the adjoining bathroom, pee in the darn cup, pass it through the tiny door in the wall to be tested by the technician, and rush back into the exam room to sit on the edge of the bed. I settle with a stirrup on either side of me, my heels banging into the metal over and over again. Feet hitting metal is the only sound in the room. Boom. Boom. Boom.

A fast knock on the door and the doctor walks in.

She gives me a brief smile. “Miss Stanton, I’m Doctor Leary. You are pregnant. Your last period was December 28th. Is that correct?” She looks at me. I nod and her eyes drop back to my chart. “I noticed you are requesting abortion services. I’ll have to perform an exam today and then we can discuss your options.”

She smiles in Neil’s direction as if noticing him for the first time. “I see you brought your partner. It is always best to make these decision as a couple.”

Neil’s gaze shifts and he says nothing, but the tic starts twitching in his cheek again.

She pats my thigh. “Put your feet up in the stirrups and scooch down, dear.”

Dr. Leary has an infinitely soothing manner, but I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin anyway. I cover my face with my forearms since this is so embarrassing.

I cringe, wait and tightly close my eyes. God, I hate this…I feel her rummaging around down there… cold metal… pushes on my abdomen…fuck, a finger there…and a click of metal as something slips out of me. By the time she’s done, every muscle in my body hurts from tension.

My gown is jerked down over my pelvis again. A tap on my thigh. “You can sit up now, Miss Stanton.”

With a stethoscope she listens to my breathing, does a fast take of my pulse, then returns to her short spinning stool and wheels across to the desk.

Anxiously, I watch as she starts rotating that weird little menstrual calculator thingy they have. She quickly jots notes on my chart, and then whirls around to face me, shoving a stack of pamphlets at me.

“We can’t do an abortion for you here, Miss Stanton. We’re going to refer you to outpatient at the hospital. You should read those. I have an opening tomorrow morning. I can do the procedure then. Is that what you want? Or would you rather speak with our counselors before you and your partner decide?”

She stares at me expectantly. Why the hospital?

“I don’t understand. I thought I could take care of it today.”

“You’re in your second trimester. A different procedure. Perfectly safe. But we don’t do D & E abortions here. The pamphlets will explain everything. I suggest you read them thoroughly. It will explain the entire procedure.”

I can’t catch hold of what she’s just said…what does that mean?

I feel the displacement of air around me, and Neil’s voice pulls me from my stupor. “How pregnant is my girlfriend?”

He’s hovering near the table, alarmed and anxious.

“Close to fourteen weeks,” Dr. Leary replies calmly.

Fourteen weeks? I frown up at him and I can tell we are both counting backward, trying to figure out when fourteen weeks ago was. Neil calculates conception faster. His posture changes, his jaw stiffening again. The math confirms that the baby isn’t his.

He sinks back into his chair and I rapidly study his fast-changing expression. I’m not sure what I’m seeing flashing in his eyes. Relief or sadness…strange, but I can’t tell.

“Chrissie is just beyond the cut-off for what we do here at the clinic,” Dr. Leary says to Neil. She fixes her eyes back on me. “I promise you, it doesn’t make the procedure less safe. It’s just a different procedure.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Schedule it, please.”

By the time I leave the clinic, I feel like someone has just dropped an anvil on me. I’ve got something inserted in my vagina to dilate me, a list of pre-op instructions, and Neil is carrying admission forms for the hospital in the morning.

Outside the clinic, I stop. I bend over, breathing in and out, trying not to vomit and trying not to cry.

“You don’t have to do this, Chrissie,” Neil says softly.

He looks sad. Achingly sad. Shit, and it’s not even his baby. “I know. But I’m going to do this.”

Neil folds me into his chest and holds me tightly up against him. He’s talking but I can’t catch the words and I don’t want to. I don’t want to think. Not one more thought until after this is through.

I bury my face against his chest to block out the world from my vision. Oh fuck, I’ve even screwed up getting an abortion.

~~~

I clutch the pillow tightly against my stomach, willing myself not to wake up. I don’t really remember today clearly and I’m afraid that if I open my eyes I will suddenly remember everything too clearly. It’s all just fragments and disconnected pictures and I want it to stay that way forever.

The snippets start to flash in my memory. The smell of the hospital. Jeez, why do they smell so bad? How cold and stark the room was. I don’t know what I expected the hospital room to look like, I hadn’t been in one before, but I hated how old and colorless it all was. Then something being injected into my IV and a mask with the gas coming over my face. Counting—yes, I remember counting, as Neil held my hand and spoke quietly to me. Then nothing. Merciful blackness.

The next clear moment is waking, and seeing Neil sitting in a chair near the bed, looking like a guy who’s been run over by a truck. Then relief on his face, after noticing I was awake, mixing with a lot of other things that I didn’t want to try to understand. Then the drive home and having Neil put me into my own bed. The feel of him sitting beside me, his long, tanned fingers lightly stroking my emotion-drained body. Then sleep. The absence of everything.

I lift up my head. Neil is sitting on the floor beside the bed, back against my nightstand, elbows on knees, face in hands.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

Neil looks up and his eyes slowly focus. “I don’t know. Since you fell asleep.” He turns to look at the clock on the stand behind him. “Four hours.”

I manage to get myself into a sitting position. “You’ve just been watching me sleep for four hours?”

He shrugs. “Not watching you sleep. Thinking.”

My eyes widen in surprise.

“Things were fucking intense today,” he says and I cringe. I don’t want to talk about today.

“I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay you for all you did, Neil. I still can’t believe you went with me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

His eyes lock on me, flashing and angry. “Fuck you, Chrissie.”

My cheeks flood with a burn and I watch as he rises and then reaches for my antibiotic on the table.

He pops off the cap. “You need to take one of these.” He holds it out for me and grabs a bottle of water. He waits until I take my pill. “Are you in pain? The doctor said you could have ibuprofen if you need it. ”

I shake my head and follow him with my eyes as he moves around the bed. He settles on the vacant spot beside me. A ragged, shuddering breath leaves his body.

“I hated watching you go through this today,” he whispers and slowly pulls me close against him. “I fucking love you and you don’t get it. I didn’t stay to be here with you because I’m some fucking moronic nice-guy. I would have been out the door if it had been any girl but you. I stayed because I love you, Chrissie. And you don’t even fucking get it.”

The look in his eyes rends my heart. The room is so heavy with grimness. I want to pull away from Neil. I want to melt into him. I want not to hurt. I want him not to hurt. I want us to be all right.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “You don’t need more shit from me. Not now. Not today. I’m sorry.”

The anguished look on Neil’s face makes my numbness fade and too many things come tumbling back all at once.

How close to being perfect Neil and I are together. How much I love Alan. All the mistakes I’ve made, including this giant one from today—and yes, it was a mistake and I didn’t want to do it and I did it anyway. How lost and alone I feel. How afraid I am of the future since I don’t really seem to be going anywhere. In a month I’m out of college. Shouldn’t I be going somewhere? How unfair it is that I’m holding on to Neil for dear life, and how cruel my stupid best friend comment was.

Too much all at once. I lie against Neil, my emotion-drained limbs without sensation, and I don’t know what to say. I brush at the tears dripping from my nose. “I’m sorry, Neil.”

For some reason, my apology kicks up whatever is going on inside Neil. His jaw tightens more.

“I don’t have to be in Seattle until the beginning of June. I’m staying in Berkeley until then,” he says.

“No. I’m not letting you do that. I can’t let you do that. I’m fine.”

His green eyes look even more determined. “I’m staying.”

The words clog in my throat, and my thoughts jumble in my head. I shouldn’t let him stay in Berkeley, and I don’t know how to tell him to go. I’m not even sure if I want to.

He closes his eyes and exhales. “It’s done. Behind us. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t tell me to. I won’t listen. I wouldn’t be able to work if I left before you were OK, Chrissie.” A myriad of emotions crosses his face. “But I don’t want to talk, not ever, about today. And don’t you ever mention Alan Manzone to me again. Trust me, Chrissie. You don’t want to fucking do that.”

He looks at me and what’s in his gaze is potent and leveling, so I just nod. I ease down until I’m tucked against his body and I wrap my arms around him. For the first time ever, it feels as if Neil needs to be held by me and something about that prompts me not to argue with him about staying in Berkeley.

I don’t know why I do it. The voice inside my head is screaming at me not to. It’s probably wrong. Another mistake. Everything inside me is in parts, dangling, and unclear. Nothing about my life makes sense to me anymore. But I do know I shouldn’t let Neil stay and I sure as hell shouldn’t let him love me.

Somehow, I’ve become my worst me with him.