She sat upright. “I can’t do it,” she said, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks. “I can’t live with it.”
The doctor sighed heavily. His sad, downward-tilted eyes told her how often he’d seen this moment played out. “Are you sure?” He consulted her chart. “Your window for having the procedure—”
“Abortion,” Lauren said, saying the word out loud for the first time. It seemed to cut her tongue with its sharp edges.
“Yes,” he said. “The abortion can’t happen after—”
“I know.” For the first time in days, she was certain of something, and the sureness calmed her. “I won’t change my mind.” She pulled off the cap.
“Okay. Good luck to you,” he said, then left the room.
“Planned Parenthood can help with adoption … if that’s what you’re interested in,” the nurse said. Not waiting for an answer, she, too, left the room.
Lauren sat there, alone now. Her emotions were all tangled up. She felt good about her decision. It was the only thing she could have lived with. She believed absolutely in a woman’s right to choose. But this was her choice.
She slid off the table and began to undress.
She’d done the right thing for her. She had. She knew it in her bones.
But what would David say?
Hours later, Lauren sat beside David on the cream-colored sofa in his family’s media room. Upstairs, perhaps, ordinary life was going on; down here, it was eerily quiet. She was holding his hand so tightly her fingers felt numb. She couldn’t seem to stop crying.
“We get married, I guess,” he said in a flat voice.
It hurt her as much as anything had, hearing him sound so defeated. She turned to him then, gathered him into her arms. She felt his tears on her throat; each one scalded her. She drew back a little, just enough to see him. He looked … broken. He was trying so hard to be grown-up, but his eyes betrayed his youth. They were wide with fear; his mouth was trembling. She touched his damp cheek. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean—”
David yanked away from her. “Mom!”
Mrs. Haynes stood in the doorway, dressed in an impeccable black suit with a snowy blouse. She held a pizza box out in front of her. “Your dad called me. He thought you guys might like a pizza,” she said dully, staring at David. Then she started to cry.
TWENTY
Lauren had thought she couldn’t feel any worse. That evening, sitting in an elegant white chair in the living room, beside a fire that should have warmed her, she realized how wrong she’d been. Seeing Mrs. Haynes cry was almost unbearable. David’s reaction to his mother’s tears was worse. Through all of it—the yelling, the arguing, the talking, the weeping—Lauren tried to say as little as possible.
It felt as if it were all her fault.
In her head, she knew that wasn’t true. It had taken both of them to make this baby, but how many times had Mom told Lauren to keep condoms in her purse? No man thinks straight with a hard-on, she’d said more than once, and it’s you who’ll get knocked up. It had been the sum total of her advice on sex. Lauren should have listened.
“I have contacts in Los Angeles and San Francisco,” Mr. Haynes said, running a hand through his ruined hair. “Excellent doctors. And discreet. No one would ever have to know.”
They’d been on this subject for at least ten minutes. After a lot of chest pounding and how-could-you-have-been-so-careless, they’d finally come around to the superstar of questions. What now?
“She tried,” David said.
“In Vancouver,” Lauren said. She could hardly hear herself.
Mrs. Haynes was staring at her. Slowly, slowly, she sat down. It was more of a crumpling, really. “We’re Catholic,” she said.
Lauren was grateful for even that small bit. “Yes,” she answered. “And … there was more than that.” She didn’t want to say the word aloud—baby or life—but it was there anyway, as much a presence as the furniture or the music coming from another room.
“I asked Lauren to marry me,” David said.
She could see how hard he was trying to be strong and she loved him for it; she also saw how close he was to breaking and she hated herself for that. He was realizing all of it now, piece by piece, the things he would have to give up. How could love demand so many sacrifices and survive?
“You’re too young to get married, for God’s sake. Tell them, Anita.”
“We’re too young to have a baby, too,” David said. That sent everyone into silence again.
“There’s adoption,” Mrs. Haynes said.
David looked up. “That’s right, Lauren. There are people who would love this baby.”
The hope in his voice was her undoing. Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to disagree, to say that she could love this baby. Her baby. Their baby. But her voice had gone missing.
“I’ll call Bill Talbot,” Mr. Haynes said. “He’s sure to give me a good contact. We’ll find a couple who would provide a good home.”
He made it sound like they were giving away a puppy.