Part Four
* * *
Slowly at first, with a wet mess running down the insides of my thighs. My mom and dad were out of the house again, but I knew they would be back soon.
I had to act fast, had to get out of there.
It wasn't too bad for a few hours. I could still move.
Where was I going to go?
Out. Get out before they come back, or you are dead.
Welfare whore.
Out.
I scribbled a note, left it on the kitchen counter.
"Some friends came by. I'm going out. Be back later. Love, Claire."
Cramps. Bad cramps. I caught a local bus.
Should I tell the driver? Should I ask him to call an ambulance?
I don't know. Oh, God ....
Six stops later I got off near a convenience store.
I can't do this. I can't.
#
I had grabbed a blanket and some towels as I left home, had stuffed them into a bag, had them with me, held close. I still don't know how I had thought to do this. The contractions were coming quickly now and as the bus moved away I wondered if the driver would call someone about me, if he had noticed.
It was dark on the quiet street.
My belly rippled with pain. I had to stop, had to move. It hurt badly.
I didn't want to be alone.
Have you heard? Simon Camden has a dating service.
Virgin Camden?
Yeah.
Pain again. Somehow I knew it wouldn't be long. I kept thinking of all the horror stories I'd heard about breech babies, about mothers dying in labor.
I don't want to die, God. Please don't let me die.
There was a phone booth, up ahead. I got to it.
I punched numbers.
Simon Camden has a dating service.
His voice.
My voice.
Please help me, Simon. Please help me.
I'm coming, he said.
And he did.
* * *
Slowly at first, with a wet mess running down the insides of my thighs. My mom and dad were out of the house again, but I knew they would be back soon.
I had to act fast, had to get out of there.
It wasn't too bad for a few hours. I could still move.
Where was I going to go?
Out. Get out before they come back, or you are dead.
Welfare whore.
Out.
I scribbled a note, left it on the kitchen counter.
"Some friends came by. I'm going out. Be back later. Love, Claire."
Cramps. Bad cramps. I caught a local bus.
Should I tell the driver? Should I ask him to call an ambulance?
I don't know. Oh, God ....
Six stops later I got off near a convenience store.
I can't do this. I can't.
#
I had grabbed a blanket and some towels as I left home, had stuffed them into a bag, had them with me, held close. I still don't know how I had thought to do this. The contractions were coming quickly now and as the bus moved away I wondered if the driver would call someone about me, if he had noticed.
It was dark on the quiet street.
My belly rippled with pain. I had to stop, had to move. It hurt badly.
I didn't want to be alone.
Have you heard? Simon Camden has a dating service.
Virgin Camden?
Yeah.
Pain again. Somehow I knew it wouldn't be long. I kept thinking of all the horror stories I'd heard about breech babies, about mothers dying in labor.
I don't want to die, God. Please don't let me die.
There was a phone booth, up ahead. I got to it.
I punched numbers.
Simon Camden has a dating service.
His voice.
My voice.
Please help me, Simon. Please help me.
I'm coming, he said.
And he did.
