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Moonlight stabbed intrusive fingers into the darkened bathroom, softening the shape of the cabinets and fixtures. Its pale blueness bleached all but the darkest of colors, dividing the room into two shades: gray and black. Puddles of dead light formed on the floor and crept toward the corner between the bathtub and toilet.
Toward Jessica.
She'd been wedged in that small dirty place for a lifetime of memories flooding her mind in bright, jagged flashes. She remembered a childhood fondness for fairies, and bedroom walls plastered with magazine cutout pictures of horses and puppies. A momentary fascination with birds brought gifts and trinkets to set on thick glass shelves with white metal brackets. A textbook on ornithology, from daddy, sent UPS from Dallas, the handwritten note inside the jacket elegantly proclaimed his girlfriend’s involvement, while lying with his solitary signature.
The first day of school and Mother scolding her fearful tears away. Finding joy in the simple act of learning. Winning Spelling Bees and being in the local newspaper. Expanding herself beyond the scared little girl who didn’t have a daddy.
Standing in the shadows of the dimly lit middle-school gymnasium, gaudy crepe paper decorations and unfettered helium-filled balloons jeering her loneliness, sweaty hands wrapped around a cheap plastic cup filled with sour punch. Watching her friends dance with boys who never even looked her way. She learned the hardest lesson of all, that night.
Boys don’t like girls who are smarter than they.
Then came High School.
David.
Why he'd picked her, a bookish nobody, she never understood, at least not until later. His choices were always enigmatic, dating her, leaving the football team. It was what kept her revolving around him, a dreary planet to his dazzling sun. He puzzled her.
Enchanted her.
* * *
She looked out the small square of the window as the moon’s full brightness escaped the claw-like tangle of the Japanese maple standing -- a sad and weary sentinel -- just outside.
Daddy planted that tree the day you were born, Jessie, Mother had told her. Another lie, the cherry for a bullshit sundae.
Daddy was in Texas looking for apartments before your water broke,
Mother, she thought, but only to herself. He wasn’t afraid to tell me the truth, even
when he knew it might hurt a little.
* * *
David never asked for sex, at least it seemed that way at the time. But he looked at other girls sometimes -- pretty cheerleaders whose enthusiasm for him actually grew when he’d left the team. Even the female teachers seemed to eye him hungrily, as if they knew something Jessica didn't. She felt her grasp on him slipping. So she made the decision.
She would seduce him.
Sneaking the sheer, black lingerie from the box in the back of Mother's closet was easy. Putting it on, standing in front of the white wicker vanity in her bedroom, came much harder. The silk and lace rubbing her body nearly stopped her right there. Over that little bit of nothing she wore only her long pea coat, another meaningless gift from daddy. Put to good use for once.
She was amazed Mother didn't notice her clandestine embarrassment as
she grabbed some toast off the breakfast table and rushed out the door with a, "Can‘t talk
Mother. I‘m late!"
Mother trusted her; she’d always been a good girl.
She ignored the other passengers on the school bus that morning. They seemed so immature, naïve. They couldn’t know about the important things, like love, not like she and David. Her stomach knotted every time she thought of what was to come.
David knew something was in the wind when she pulled him away from entering homeroom and led him toward the parking lot. Toward his car and privacy.
"I want to do it," she immediately felt foolish,
standing next to the forest-green and primer-gray monstrosity of a vehicle. She hadn’t
meant to blurt it out like that.
"Wh-what?" He seemed lost, his expression out of place.
"I want to do it," she repeated. "I want you to make love to me,
David," She opened her coat, allowing him to see what it hid.
"Jessie! Someone’ll see you!" he whispered urgently. His eyes
denied his embarrassment. They were glued to her breasts.
It wasn’t going how she’d imagined.
"Don’t you want me, David?" She tried to keep the hurt out of her
voice.
He stared at her exposed body for a moment longer, as
if pondering his answer, "Of course I do, Jessie. You just surprised me, that’s all."
He locked eyes with her, a strange pleading look that morphed into grave determination.
"I know a spot," his acceptance seemed strangely reluctant, angry.
She shook it off as paranoia.
She didn't trust herself to speak. She got in the passenger side,
which was enough for him. He hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
He didn’t even wait for the motor to warm up before backing out of the parking space and
heading out of the lot.
He drove fast, apparently eager for what was to come.
He pointed the car north, toward the foothills surrounding town. It didn't take long to
leave civilization behind. Fir trees replaced houses almost immediately, standing a vigil
over the road. Condemning her with their silence.
He pulled into the entrance of a gravel logging road, made his way around a single curve and stopped, parking along the soft shoulder. She wasn't sure what to say. This was his spot? One curve -- twenty or thirty feet -- from the road and discovery? He killed the engine. The cessation of sound intensified the tension.
He looked at her. A strange feeling came over her, fear and fascination mixed in a confusing jumble. She felt like a sparrow, captured inside the gaze of a viper. Doubts percolated. Could she do this? Was this how it was supposed to be?
David broke her internal debate, wrapping one large, sports-callused hand around the back of her neck, drawing her face to his. They'd kissed before, sneaking time around corners and between banks of lockers, in plain view of other students. Somehow the teachers never saw; perhaps they just didn‘t care. This kiss, however, was very different. It started soft, but David's impatience forced it into something new, exciting. His lips parted. His tongue forced its way into her mouth. She let him lead.
He seemed to know what he was doing.
His hands wasted no time, the one around her neck sliding down her front and cupping her breast familiarly. The other lighting upon her knee and trekking north in a slow but steady march up her thigh. Her fear flared for a moment. What was she doing? Was this what she wanted?
David sensed her reservation. He broke the kiss, leaving his hands in their newly conquered territory, and looked deep into her eyes. His face wore a reassuring smile.
"Are you all right, Jessie? Do you still want to do it?" he asked her.
"No -- yes. I’m fine."
"I’ll stop if you want," he seemed eager, but eager for her,
or eager for her answer, she couldn’t tell. "It might hurt a little.
At least that’s what I’ve heard about the first time."
Her doubts dissolved like cotton candy. This was David. She loved him. She leaned into him and resumed the broken kiss. He paused for a moment, perhaps surprised at her answer. But only for a moment. His enthusiasm returned. His ardor grew more insistent. His hands became rough, his excitement unconstrained. Seeing things were moving faster than expected, she tried to slow him.
She wanted it to be special.
He was upon her, somehow managing to tear his hand from between her legs for the moment it took to operate the seat latch. It surprised her when the seat fell flat and his weight pinned her down.
"David. Wait. Use a condom. David?" They were in her bag, exactly where she’d put them when the school nurse gave them to her. He didn't hear her. He seemed off in some other world. She pushed against his chest, but might as well have tried to move a brick wall.
Before she knew how, he was inside her. Thrusting.
It did hurt. Badly. Gritting her teeth, she tried to focus on the experience rather than the pain, thinking of it as an expression of love.
It was over quickly.
David gave a shudder and moaned, a low, primal sound. She lie underneath him, scared to move, fearing he might start all over again. He seemed a stranger, not the man she'd meant to be with at all.
Presently he levered himself up enough to look into her face and
smile, "How do you feel? Did it hurt much?"
She gave her best smile and said, "I’m fine, David," it seemed to
satisfy him.
He rolled off her onto the driver's seat and buttoned his jeans.
Odd, the thought went through her head, when did he unbutton them?
She sat up, awkwardly levering the seat upright.
She felt bruised -- her insides scraped raw like some internal rug-burn. He smiled
again and started the car while she straightened her jacket and rebuttoned the crotch of the
teddy. They drove back to school in silence.
* * *
Life went on.
Looking back, she thought she could pinpoint the moment she knew that David had told his friends about them.
Her next period never came; she ignored it as a fluke. She started getting sick in the mornings two months later; she managed to convince herself it was the flu. It didn't go away.
She bought a home pregnancy test at a market Mother never went to. She stuffed it deep into her book bag until she reached the safety of her bedroom, and promptly hid it in her vanity. It took her three days to get up the courage to use it.
It took two tries; the first stick fell in the toilet when she accidentally peed on her hand and dropped the stick in disgust. The second time went smoother, but the minute wait seemed a century.
Positive.
She was pregnant. She sat on the toilet and centuries passed in a vague haze of disbelief.
After some time, Jessica made it to her bedroom. She stared out her window at the soot black sky. Shock warred with disbelief. What could she do? Tell Mother? What could she say? What about David? What would he do? The “right” thing? Not likely. The questions bounced around her mind like a ball in a closet. She went to bed.
* * *
Abortion is a dirty word. Termination. That was the way she thought of it as she waited in the cramped lobby of the clinic. She tried to still the doubts racing through her mind. There was no other way, she told her protesting conscience. Mother would kill her, David was worse. He'd probably just laugh. He'd turned cruel since the breakup.
Presently, after nearly an hour of sitting and avoiding eye contact with the room's other occupants, a nurse came to fetch her. She was guided to what looked suspiciously like a gynecologist's examination room. The padded table. The stirrups she'd learned to hate. She couldn't spot anything to tell the difference, and thought it ironic. Two completely opposite purposes for such similar spaces.
Do you understand the process? She was asked.
Are you doing this of your own freewill? Is your boyfriend okay withthis
willyousignthisconsentformwouldyoulikeustonotifyanyone? She answered in a haze,
wishing they'd just get on with it. Finally, she was told to strip and put on a hospital gown. The doctor would be in to see her in a moment.
The moment lasted another forty minutes, with the spiteful buzz of the fluorescent lights scolding her from overhead. Forty minutes of what ifs.
What if I'd waited? What if I'd made him use the condoms?
What if I hadn't been so stupid?
What if I’d known I was just a fucking joke to amuse his friends?
The doctor came along, accompanied by a different nurse,
"Well. And how are we today?" He asked in a forced joviality, interrupting her bitter reverie.
"I’m fine," her voice came out strained and thready, as if she
hadn’t spoken in years. She cleared her throat and offered a wan smile.
"Well, Jessica," he said, consulting her chart on the door.
"My name is Doctor Chandler. I see you’ve signed the waiver. Are you sure you don’t want
us to call your mother?"
"No! God no. Are you crazy?"
"Alright, but your insurance provider might notify her as part of
her coverage. We have no control over what portions of your medical records they share with
her," he held up his hands in a warding gesture as she paled at the idea of Mother knowing.
"Just a couple more formalities."
He seemed rushed. It was getting close to lunchtime. Along came another bout of endless talk. Local anesthetic. Slight amount of bleeding. Low risk of hemorrhage. Lay back and place your ankles in the stirrups. Might hurt a little. Hold very still, please. Would you like to talk to a counselor? You can get dressed now. Do you have someone to drive you home? Get some rest.
Have a nice day.
* * *
Three weeks later, a note from Mother, pinned to the cork-board in the kitchen, said she wouldn’t be home until late. Jessica found the reason for Mother’s tardiness taped to her bedroom door, a hand-written letter from the insurance company denying coverage for a surgical procedure for one Jessica Thorpe.
* * *
The advancing brightness reached its limit, the window frame tethered it just short of Jessica's cramped haven. Still it seemed to reach for her, as if trying to stop her. Proffering its forgiveness. Damning her wickedness.
It didn’t matter. Either way.
It hurt badly, at first. The stinging slice of daddy's old straight razor against the soft flesh of her inner thigh was a burning line of silver fire spreading out from the deep gash to encompass her.
She gasped and bit her lip in defiance of the shriek clawing her belly like an insane beast looking to escape the cage of her silence. For once, Mother would not interfere.
Mother kept the razor and Jessica, even if she couldn't keep daddy. He left when the swelling in Mother’s waistline became an unmistakable sign of Jessica’s imminent arrival. Just another unwanted pregnancy, they ran in the family.
She watched the growing pool of liquid blackness flow away from her like a dark tide chasing the receding moonlight.
He said it would only hurt a little.
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