Title: Finding A Way Home
Author: Andrea
Rating: PG-13 (for the moment, anyway)
Summary: Um, it's only chapter 2. If you can't remember, go back and read chapter 1 again.
Author's Note: Thanks for the interactive editing, Cath.
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Finding A Way Home
Chapter 2: A Shoulder to Cry On
"What ?" Susan asks. "But I thought you just said it was positive."
I take a deep breath. She's not gonna make this easy on me, I guess. "It is positive. I'm pregnant. I'm just not going to have a baby." I flop back down on the couch and look over at her.
It takes a moment for it to sink in. And when it does, I watch her face change. From joyful excitement to sad and concerned. "Oh, Abby … you can't mean that."
I close my eyes and concentrate on my breathing. I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to cry. I can't let her see me cry. I have to convince her. I have to convince myself. "I do mean it, Susan. It's the only way. I can't have a baby."
"Why can't you?" Susan asks. She seems genuinely confused.
"I just … can't. It's … complicated."
"Complicated how? Because you two broke up?"
"No." That's the last of my worries. Of course if we were still together maybe … "I don't know. Yes. Maybe. But it's not just that. I …" I trail off, not knowing where to start or how to explain it. Not really wanting to talk about it.
"What? You don't want a baby? You don't want to be a mother?" Tell her yes. Just say 'yep, that's it exactly' and get on with things. But I can't do that. I can't lie to her. And she'd see through it anyway. She's just like Carter, she can read me no matter how hard I try to close off all my thoughts and emotions. "Don't even try to tell me that. I won't believe it for a second."
I give her a sad little smile. "It's not a case of want, Susan. Sometimes there are things we want that we just can't have."
"But you can, Abby. You can have it." I just shake my head. "Are you afraid that Carter wouldn't want it? Is that what this is about?"
"Well, I don't think he'd exactly be jumping for joy. I mean, considering the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
"Oh, I don't know Susan … maybe the fact that he left me. And for some two-bit tramp at that. He's happier without me. He's better off without me. And I'm sure the last thing he would want is me barging back into his life saying, 'Surprise!'"
"You're wrong, Abby. Carter would be thrilled."
"This was a mistake, Susan. It wasn't something that we planned. It wasn't something that either of us wanted."
She gives me a long, contemplative look. "Except I think it is something you both want."
"No." I shake my head slightly. "No, it's not. It's a nice little fantasy, but in reality it would be a disaster. Having this baby would be an even bigger mistake than getting pregnant in the first place." If that's so true, why does stomach reel every time I think about what I'm going to have to do? I almost can't stand to think the word. Abortion. Again. I promised myself I would never put myself in a position to have to go through that again, and yet, here I am.
"What would be the disaster? That you'd have a beautiful baby? That you'd be somebody's mommy? That Carter would be your baby's father? None of that sounds so bad to me."
"I can't, Susan. It wouldn't be fair."
"Fair? Fair to who? To Carter? Listen, Abby … I really don't think that he would react the way you think. And even if he did, so what? Fuck him."
"Uh, Susan? I already did. That's what got me into this mess, remember?" It's a sad attempt at a joke. But the fact is, I really don't want Susan trying to convince me to do something that I'm already very tempted by myself. But I can't give in to that temptation. It wouldn't be right. What I want isn't important. I have to do what's right. I don't even know for sure what it is that I want. But I do know what the right thing to do is. It's for the best.
"You know what I mean, Abby. Look, if this is something you want, then you should go for it. Don't worry about what Carter thinks. Not that I think he'd be upset, but even if he was, too bad. He was there, it's his responsibility as much as yours. And I'm sure he'll live up to it. I can't imagine that there's any way that he wouldn't want to be involved in his child's life; I'm sure he'd want to be there for every diaper change. Why wouldn't he? He loves you. And any child that you give him? He'd be head over heels for the kid. And of course he'd want to be there for every single moment. But even if he didn't, certainly helping out financially wouldn't be a problem. You could do it on your own if you had to. You wouldn't have to, I'm sure, but even if you did … well, you'd always have me … and all your friends."
"Thanks, Sus. I appreciate the support. But I'm not gonna do that to him. He made his choice perfectly clear. He wants nothing to do with me."
"First off, Abby, that's not true. Whatever may be going wrong between you guys, he loves you. I have no doubt about that. And secondly, even if things didn't work out between the two of you, this is his child."
"And it's mine too."
"Yeah. So?"
"So … if I have his baby, for the rest of his life, he's stuck with me. And my bastard. Kinda ruins the whole white picket fence routine, wouldn't you say? I know what Carter wants. And it's not this." Carter wants is a simple, uncomplicated, chaos-free life. A life with some kind of guarantee attached to it. He wants to know where he's going. He wants the perfect wife, the perfect kids, the perfect family. I always knew it was just a matter of time until he left me for someone who could give him the life he wants. Something that I would never be able to give him. Having this child, whose conception was the result of one careless mistake, will ruin all his dreams. Ruin that perfect life he wants so much. And I can't do that. I won't do it. It would only end up hurting me more. Hurting him. And never mind about the poor kid who would be hurt most of all. Not to mention be so unlucky as to get stuck with me for its mom. And without the benefit of having its father around to make up for my numerous deficiencies, the kid would be totally screwed.
"Abby …" Susan's voice is gentle and soothing. "What Carter wants … is you. And once he finds out about this baby, he's gonna want that too."
"He's not gonna find out about the pregnancy."
"What? You have to tell him."
"No, actually, I don't. And I'm not going to. Why should I? To what end? It would just hurt him. And what you don't know can't hurt you. He's better off being left in the dark."
"He has a right to know. It's his baby too."
"How many times do I have to say it?" I'm practically yelling now. "There is no baby. There's an embryo. A pregnancy. But no baby. And there isn't going to be a baby! I'm getting an abortion!"
To my horror, my voice cracks on the word 'abortion' and before I know it, a sob breaks loose. And it's like a break in a dam. I can't stop the tears. I bury my head in my hands and wish that I could just disappear. I wanted to make Susan believe that I had no doubts. That I was okay with it. I can't believe how weak I'm being, and I hate it. Hormones, I tell myself, that's why I can't stop the tears. It has nothing to do with being brokenhearted over this pregnancy and its inevitable end. It's just the hormones. I hate that I'm crying like a little girl, and in front of Susan no less. And I can't seem to stop.
I feel Susan's arms wrap around me and she pulls me to her, pushing my head down onto her shoulder. She brushes my hair back from my face and rocks me gently, whispering in a soothing tone. She's really good at this comforting shit. She should be a mother. For a minute I get a crazy idea about having the baby and giving it to Susan. Maybe she and Carter would give it another whirl, since I know that she's right about Carter wanting to be near his child. It's perfect. The man I love and my best friend can raise my baby. And I can just move to Brazil or something.
Of course I know it would never work. Giving up this baby now will be hard enough. But after nine months of it growing inside of me, giving birth, and seeing, hearing and touching a real live child, I'm not sure I'd have the strength to give it up. Even to its own father. Even if it was for the baby's own good. I guess I'm not that selfless. See, not cut out to be a mother.
These thoughts only make the tears flow that much stronger. Susan doesn't let go. She just hugs me tight and waits for the sobs to subside.
"Maybe you need to think about this some more, Abby." She says when I finally quiet down.
"All I've done for weeks is think about this." My voice sounds hollow and defeated. Much the way I feel inside.
"What happened to being in denial?"
"Well, that too. But I always knew. Somewhere deep down. I think I knew the night it happened. Then I managed to push it away for a couple weeks. But as soon as I was late, I knew. I tried my best to deny it, and was pretty successful. But there were still moments when I couldn't help but think about it. It was just there all the time, you know? But I didn't want to face it. Because I knew all along what I'd have to do."
"But you don't have to do it, Abby. Not if you don't want to."
"Yes, I do. I'm just not meant … to be a mother. I can't even begin to count all the myriad of ways that I would screw up some poor defenseless baby. I don't know the first thing about being a mother."
"You don't have to. That's what maternal instincts are for. You'll take one look at your baby, and you'll know exactly what to do. Besides, I've seen you with kids in the ER. You're a natural."
"It's different when it's your own."
"Yeah, it's easier." I give her a dubious look. I don't know about that. When it's your own, you can't give them back. And you're the one who has to make all the decisions. I can't even make the right decisions for my own life, how can be responsible for someone else's? "You know, when they're your own, you just love them so much. Look, Abby … everybody has doubts. Everybody worries that they won't be good enough. I know I did." I give her a questioning look.
"With Susie, my niece." She explains. "My sister left her with me when she was just a baby. I thought she'd left her for good. So for all intents and purposes, I became her mother. I was so worried that I was totally inadequate that I almost put her up for adoption. But in the end, I realized that nobody's perfect. You just gotta love them. And do the best you can. And usually everything turns out just fine. Hell, Susie's turned out pretty good, and that's even with my sister raising her. Believe me if she can do it, anyone can. And you're not just anyone Abby. You'd be great."
"I don't know. I just don't think it's the right thing to do." I tell her.
"When I first found out Chloe was pregnant, I thought she should have an abortion. I was sure that was the right thing to do. Even for the baby. I didn't think any child deserved to be brought into the fucked-up fantasy world that my sister lives in most of the time. But now I can't imagine the world without Susie in it. It just goes to show you that you never how things are going to turn out. And how something wonderful can come out of something that seems like a tragedy. Abby, having this baby would change your life. And only for the better. It could turn out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you."
"Yeah, or it could turn out to be the worst. I couldn't live with knowing that I went ahead and did this in spite of my child's uncertain future. I don't think I could stand to watch my child suffer because it got stuck with a lousy mom. I couldn't stand to watch my child suffer because its parents can't get it together. And I know that I couldn't stand to watch my child suffer because I gave it the same disease that's ruined my family. I just can't take that chance. It's not worth the risk. I can't do it. Not to myself, not to Carter, and especially not to a baby."
"Abby -"
"Look, Susan, I know you're trying to help, but I know what I have to do."
"Abby, just do me a favor, okay? Think about it. Just give yourself a week, or even a few days, to make sure. Because you can't take it back, and the consequences …" Her voice trails off, but I already know about the consequences all too well. Not something I'm looking forward to, but what choice do I have?
"Abby? Abby?" I realize Susan's said something else to me, but I guess I missed it.
"Huh?"
"I said you look exhausted, maybe you should get some sleep."
"Yeah, I guess so." I sound dazed and confused even to my own ears. Susan looks at me for a minute, like she's trying to make up her mind about something. And then she gets up and begins puttering around my apartment, putting the pizza away, shutting off lights, locking up. "What are you doing?" I ask as she locks the front door.
"Locking the door."
"Oh. Wouldn't it be better if I do that after you leave?"
"I'm staying."
"Susan … you don't have to do that."
"I know, but I gonna do it anyway."
"I'm not gonna jump off the roof or anything, I'll be fine on my own."
"I know that. But I'm still gonna stay."
"Susan, really, I …"
"Jesus, Abby … would you just accept some …comfort for once? I know you don't really want to be alone right now." Like I said, she can read me just like Carter can. Of course I don't really want to be alone. This is going to seem a lot scarier once she's gone.
"Okay." I say. "You can have Carter's side of the bed. The couch isn't very comfortable."
"Trying to get me into your bed already, huh Abby?"
I smile my first real smile in what seems like a long time. Then I roll my eyes. "I promise not to try anything funny while you're sleeping."
"You'll wake me up first?" I roll my eyes again. Apparently Susan decides that I'm not any kind of threat as a sexual predator and follows me into the bedroom where we're soon settled in for the night. We lie there for a while forgetting my troubles by comparing recent crazy patients and trading the latest hospital gossip.
"This is just like slumber party." Susan says after a while.
"Yeah, some party. Besides, I think you need more than two for it to be a slumber party."
"Okay, a sleepover then. Just like the sleepovers that I used to have with my best-friend-of-the-week when I was a kid. God, those were always so much fun. I haven't had a sleepover since the sixth grade." I turn my head to look at her and she catches my eye. "Well, okay … maybe a different kind of sleepover." We giggle at that.
"Susan?" I ask after a moment.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"And Susan?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll think about it."
"Good. That's good, Abby." She gives me a big smile. I return it with a tentative one of my own. "Good night," she says as she turns over onto her side away from me.
"'Night." I say, as I stare up at the ceiling. I find my hand almost involuntarily drifting down to my stomach. I can't help but think of the little life, the potential baby, that's in there. I think about everything that Susan said. I think about all my worst fears coming true. I think about that chance, however slight it might be, that things could actually work out. But then I realize all over again that it could never happen. My dreams of motherhood are so close, but yet feel farther away than ever. It's not meant to be, I tell myself. I feel the tears slip quietly down my cheeks at the thought. I quickly brush the tears away and then squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the relief, however temporary, that only sleep will bring.