CHAPTER 8: DROUGHT
Lana took a deep breath as she entered her house. She had not done so since the day before yesterday, and she fretted about Nell's reaction to her disappearance. Though - surely the Kents had informed Nell as to Lana's location. They were sensible people.
"Where have you been?" Nell asked tensely, rising at Lana's entrance. She and Dean had been seated on a sofa in the front room quite comfortably, and Lana suspected with annoyance that they had not been discussing Lana's whereabouts.
"I was at Clark's," Lana said quickly. "I just needed some time to myself."
"We knew you were at Clark's," Dean intercepted. "The Kents phoned us the other day to let us know you were safe. We mean where were you just now?"
"Clark came to us, concerned about you, a few hours ago," Nell explained, ushering Lana into the room and seating her in a chair. "He said you two had had a fight, and that you were thinking of . . . "
Tuning out, Lana's thoughts were turned towards the events of the evening. Chloe had caught up with her quickly, Lana being too exhausted to escape. The two of them breaking into parallel cries, they had unconditionally forgiven each other for whatever actions had previously preyed upon their dignities. Then in desperation, Lana had explained her plan, and, eager to support her friend, Chloe offered to accompany Lana to Metropolis.
The clinic had been teeming outside with frantic protesters, and they tore at the two girls with outstretched fingers and brochures advocating the aspects of pro-life. It was nothing unusual for a big city, but nonetheless, the hostility had terrified Lana and provoked a feeling of helplessness. It was as though she had been tossed into a wood of haunted tree branches, clawing at her throat and threatening her with violent grasps should she continue on her path.
Inside, the two had been plagued immediately with a contagion of sorrow and fear which emanated from each occupant. The wait had been long, though only a few minutes, and Chloe and Lana had sat in silence, each mind closing to the pain of the other. When finally she had been invited into a small, impersonal office, Lana's heart had pounded with a cold grip unknown to her before. But it had "to be done now, if it's to be done, because you're coming to the end of the first trimester. After that, we can do nothing to help you."
The doctor's approach sickened Lana, and she had paled at his words. Help her . . . did he fancy himself to be helping her? All that could help her was nothing, for nothing was what her life had become, so strange and detached from all she knew and loved.
"So you have to decide now," he had said. His voice was not harsh, it was sympathetic, but to Lana it had come across as severely rejecting. She had cried. And so she cried now.
Nell and Dean stared at Lana expectantly. "Where were you?" Nell persisted.
Lana closed her eyes so not to be forced to peer into the terrible streams of anticipation. "I was at an abortion clinic," she whispered. The experience came rushing back once more, bowling her over backwards in her mind. So much death . . .
"What?!" All at once Nell and Dean seemed to physically attack her; Lana's head swam, and she felt an odd separation from herself. She peered down at the situation and breathed in all their hurtful words.
"You should have come to talk to us first," Dean contended angrily. "That is hardly a decision you could make on your own."
Nell broke into tears. "How could you do this, Lana? You tear yourself apart so that you can return to your old life, which was only good for complaints anyhow?" She began to sob.
Wrapping an arm around his fiancée, Dean glared at the young girl. "Not only did you tear yourself apart in this, you're tearing us up as well. We would have helped you take care of it."
The apparitional sensation Lana had been experiencing suddenly degenerated and she returned, emotionally frayed. "You would have cared for her," Lana agreed in a dangerously solemn tone. "But not for me. Will you care for her still? You don't seem to care for me, which is why I didn't come to you. Chloe helped me. She's my friend. And yet I stand here and you don't even listen to me . . . you don't care."
"Well of course we care," Dean interjected. Nell was too stricken to answer.
"You don't," Lana replied, her voice rising suddenly to a pitch of high aversion "I didn't get an abortion!" she shrieked. "I didn't, I couldn't, I love her; what do you know? And here you hang me before the trial, before my apology! I . . . " Swooning, Lana collapsed from her chair and sprawled on the floor, her hair spewed in all directions. "This is what you should do . . . " she murmured before losing all consciousness.
Nell screamed.
The room was lit only dimly, natch to the melancholy which infected the air.
Lana lay quietly in a blank hospital bed, breathing deeply, chasing dreams in a disturbed slumber. Whitney sat over her, shaking, not calmed by his mother's careful hands which, upon his shoulders, endeavoured to soothe him.
Nell, nearby, stared at her young niece solemnly from her place close against Dean, but could not look long, for she felt at fault. She was at fault. In her accusations and desperation she had driven Lana to a form of death in life so mournful that now she was to suffer eternally at the hands of all.
All of Chloe, Clark, and Pete could not help but feel slightly out of place in this doleful setting, and yet they belonged just as well. Twisted with regret at all their previous proceedings, they stared at the floor and awaited anxiously Lana's awakening.
So self-contained were the room's occupants that none actually did acknowledge the gentle fluttering of her eyes. Whitney, a few inches from her face, was the first to take notice and reaction. "Lana, I'm so sorry," he lamented. "Can you ever forgive me?"
A chorus of apologies echoed from all corners of the room, and Lana peered about, almost frightened by the terrific amount of repentance and traces of grace. She took Whitney's hand in hers to calm him. "Don't worry," she whispered intensely. "I'm to be faulted as well. Isn't it strange that a beautiful acquirement of love worked to both create and destroy human life, and in the process bring out the worst in all of us?"
Lana took a deep breath as she entered her house. She had not done so since the day before yesterday, and she fretted about Nell's reaction to her disappearance. Though - surely the Kents had informed Nell as to Lana's location. They were sensible people.
"Where have you been?" Nell asked tensely, rising at Lana's entrance. She and Dean had been seated on a sofa in the front room quite comfortably, and Lana suspected with annoyance that they had not been discussing Lana's whereabouts.
"I was at Clark's," Lana said quickly. "I just needed some time to myself."
"We knew you were at Clark's," Dean intercepted. "The Kents phoned us the other day to let us know you were safe. We mean where were you just now?"
"Clark came to us, concerned about you, a few hours ago," Nell explained, ushering Lana into the room and seating her in a chair. "He said you two had had a fight, and that you were thinking of . . . "
Tuning out, Lana's thoughts were turned towards the events of the evening. Chloe had caught up with her quickly, Lana being too exhausted to escape. The two of them breaking into parallel cries, they had unconditionally forgiven each other for whatever actions had previously preyed upon their dignities. Then in desperation, Lana had explained her plan, and, eager to support her friend, Chloe offered to accompany Lana to Metropolis.
The clinic had been teeming outside with frantic protesters, and they tore at the two girls with outstretched fingers and brochures advocating the aspects of pro-life. It was nothing unusual for a big city, but nonetheless, the hostility had terrified Lana and provoked a feeling of helplessness. It was as though she had been tossed into a wood of haunted tree branches, clawing at her throat and threatening her with violent grasps should she continue on her path.
Inside, the two had been plagued immediately with a contagion of sorrow and fear which emanated from each occupant. The wait had been long, though only a few minutes, and Chloe and Lana had sat in silence, each mind closing to the pain of the other. When finally she had been invited into a small, impersonal office, Lana's heart had pounded with a cold grip unknown to her before. But it had "to be done now, if it's to be done, because you're coming to the end of the first trimester. After that, we can do nothing to help you."
The doctor's approach sickened Lana, and she had paled at his words. Help her . . . did he fancy himself to be helping her? All that could help her was nothing, for nothing was what her life had become, so strange and detached from all she knew and loved.
"So you have to decide now," he had said. His voice was not harsh, it was sympathetic, but to Lana it had come across as severely rejecting. She had cried. And so she cried now.
Nell and Dean stared at Lana expectantly. "Where were you?" Nell persisted.
Lana closed her eyes so not to be forced to peer into the terrible streams of anticipation. "I was at an abortion clinic," she whispered. The experience came rushing back once more, bowling her over backwards in her mind. So much death . . .
"What?!" All at once Nell and Dean seemed to physically attack her; Lana's head swam, and she felt an odd separation from herself. She peered down at the situation and breathed in all their hurtful words.
"You should have come to talk to us first," Dean contended angrily. "That is hardly a decision you could make on your own."
Nell broke into tears. "How could you do this, Lana? You tear yourself apart so that you can return to your old life, which was only good for complaints anyhow?" She began to sob.
Wrapping an arm around his fiancée, Dean glared at the young girl. "Not only did you tear yourself apart in this, you're tearing us up as well. We would have helped you take care of it."
The apparitional sensation Lana had been experiencing suddenly degenerated and she returned, emotionally frayed. "You would have cared for her," Lana agreed in a dangerously solemn tone. "But not for me. Will you care for her still? You don't seem to care for me, which is why I didn't come to you. Chloe helped me. She's my friend. And yet I stand here and you don't even listen to me . . . you don't care."
"Well of course we care," Dean interjected. Nell was too stricken to answer.
"You don't," Lana replied, her voice rising suddenly to a pitch of high aversion "I didn't get an abortion!" she shrieked. "I didn't, I couldn't, I love her; what do you know? And here you hang me before the trial, before my apology! I . . . " Swooning, Lana collapsed from her chair and sprawled on the floor, her hair spewed in all directions. "This is what you should do . . . " she murmured before losing all consciousness.
Nell screamed.
The room was lit only dimly, natch to the melancholy which infected the air.
Lana lay quietly in a blank hospital bed, breathing deeply, chasing dreams in a disturbed slumber. Whitney sat over her, shaking, not calmed by his mother's careful hands which, upon his shoulders, endeavoured to soothe him.
Nell, nearby, stared at her young niece solemnly from her place close against Dean, but could not look long, for she felt at fault. She was at fault. In her accusations and desperation she had driven Lana to a form of death in life so mournful that now she was to suffer eternally at the hands of all.
All of Chloe, Clark, and Pete could not help but feel slightly out of place in this doleful setting, and yet they belonged just as well. Twisted with regret at all their previous proceedings, they stared at the floor and awaited anxiously Lana's awakening.
So self-contained were the room's occupants that none actually did acknowledge the gentle fluttering of her eyes. Whitney, a few inches from her face, was the first to take notice and reaction. "Lana, I'm so sorry," he lamented. "Can you ever forgive me?"
A chorus of apologies echoed from all corners of the room, and Lana peered about, almost frightened by the terrific amount of repentance and traces of grace. She took Whitney's hand in hers to calm him. "Don't worry," she whispered intensely. "I'm to be faulted as well. Isn't it strange that a beautiful acquirement of love worked to both create and destroy human life, and in the process bring out the worst in all of us?"