The Friends We Keep

Physically she was close to 100 percent. Her appetite had returned and she hadn’t thrown up in nearly forty-eight hours. There was no reason not to go back to work. Except that she didn’t want to.

There it was—the ugly truth. She hated her job. Nothing about it was what she’d imagined. She missed being home, she didn’t like the long hours or minimal pay and the work itself was tedious.

She wrestled with what to do with that information. She knew what Andrew would say—he would tell her to quit and find something else that fulfilled her. Which she would like to do, if only she could figure out what that was.

She logged on to the laptop in the kitchen and checked her email, then found herself revisiting a site on homeschooling. The crazy idea had come to her between bouts of throwing up. There were online programs that provided all the material. It would only be until Makayla had the baby, she told herself. At most through June. The teen would return to high school the following fall.

Could she do it? Did she want to? Did Makayla? She had a feeling she knew the answer to the latter. Being pregnant wasn’t the thrill ride she’d anticipated and losing Boyd had only made things worse.

She logged off the site and found Makayla in the family room. The TV was off and the girl wasn’t reading anything. She was just looking out the window.

“You okay?” Gabby asked.

Makayla shook her head. “I’m not.”

Gabby moved toward her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling nauseous again? Do you have a fever?”

She sat down on the sofa and touched the teen’s forehead. It was cool. Makayla was a little pale, but didn’t look sick.

“I’m okay,” she said, looking at Gabby. “I feel fine.” Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t do it. I can’t have the baby.”

“You mean keep the baby? You want to give it up for adoption?”

“No. I want to get rid of it. I want to have an abortion.”

The words were a slap. Gabby drew back. She had no idea what to say.

“I can’t do it,” Makayla said again, her voice rising. “I can’t be like you. I saw what happened, when we were all sick and you had to do everything, even though you were sick yourself. You take care of everybody. You’re always running around and doing stuff. I don’t want to be like that. I want to go have fun with my friends. I want my friends to like me again.”

Gabby told herself to take a breath and think before speaking.

“You’re getting over being sick,” she said slowly. “You’re upset.”

Makayla stood and glared at her. “I know what I’m saying. I want an abortion. Today. I want to get rid of the baby. I hate it. I hate being pregnant. This is awful. Get it out of me. Get it out!”

Gabby rose. “Stop screaming. You’re acting like a toddler having a tantrum. Sit down so we can discuss this like adults. If you’re old enough to have sex, you’re old enough to have a reasonable conversation.”

She wasn’t sure if her firm tone would work, but Makayla surprised her by wiping her face and sinking back onto the sofa. Gabby retreated to one of the chairs so they could face each other.

Dear God—what to say?

“An abortion isn’t an option,” she said, trying to sound as calm as possible. “You’re too far along.”

“I still can. In some places.”

So she’d been doing research? “It’s not an option for you.”

“Why not? You believe in a woman’s right to choose.” The words were defiant.

“You’re not choosing. You’re reacting to a series of circumstances. To being sick and hating school and losing Boyd. I do believe a woman should have control over her body, but an abortion isn’t a decision to be made lightly. Not like this. And not for the reasons you have. We’re in a position for you to carry this baby to term and you will. If you want to discuss adoption, that’s fine, but there won’t be an abortion.”

Makayla sprang to her feet again. “You can’t make me. I’ll talk to my dad. He’ll agree. You’ll see.”

“Maybe he will, but if he does, he’s wrong.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“Me, too.”

*

The longest afternoon in history turned into the longest evening when Andrew called to say he had to attend a dinner meeting. Gabby picked up the twins and kept them and herself busy playing games and making cookies. Makayla shut herself in her room. After weeks of a relatively easy relationship with her stepdaughter, Gabby was stung to realize how quickly the goodwill could evaporate.

Shortly after eight, Andrew walked in.

“I’m home,” he called.

The twins went running to their father in their pajamas. Makayla appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Let me get the girls into bed before you bring this up, please,” Gabby said to her. “They don’t need to hear the conversation.”

She wondered if the teen would protest, but Makayla surprised her by nodding her agreement and returning to her room.