"Did she hit you?" Greer asks me.
"No, she didn't hit me," I reply, edgily.
It's Thursday morning and we're sitting in my car in the SDS parking lot – Greer, Kristy, Sally, and I. It's the most private place I could think of. I've told them about Mrs. Ellenburg's visit. Greer already knew. At least she knew that Mrs. Ellenburg had come to my house. Greer called last night to warn me – too late – that Mrs. Ellenburg had called Mrs. Carson asking questions about me and my family under the guise of needing to mail Mom something about the Greenvale Historical Society. I wasn't in the mood at the time to rehash my conversation with Mrs. Ellenburg, which I know disappointed Greer. And I have a sneaking suspicion that Greer may be slightly disappointed that Mrs. Ellenburg did not attempt to in some way physically assault me.
"She really didn't hit you?" Greer asks again.
"No."
Sally leans forward from the backseat where she and Kristy are seated. "I honestly thought she would kick your ass," Sally informs me. "I stand corrected."
"I heard she hit his last two girlfriends," Greer says. She's in the passenger seat, awkwardly sitting sideways like me. "I didn't tell you before because I thought it might scare you."
"I can't see Mrs. Ellenburg hitting anyone," I reply. "She didn't even yell at me. I thought she would. I almost threw up when I saw her sitting in my living room. Obviously, she's not happy with me, but she wasn't nasty about it. Why didn't she yell at me?"
Greer shrugs.
"Maybe she's worried you'll use the baby against her son," Kristy suggests. "Like try to use it to trap him or else ruin him. I mean, it was pretty bad when he was having sex with a high school student, but now he's impregnated a high school student. It's like she told you, you have all the power. You could destroy her son."
"I don't want to ruin Wes," I say, quietly, flushing slightly. I can't admit that I've considered using the baby to get Wes back. Trap him, I guess.
"She probably feels sorry for you," Sally says, bluntly. "Because your parents are idiots and you…well, you have serious issues. I think that's obvious."
I flush redder.
Greer scowls at Sally. "I don't think you're helping," she says.
"My point is valid," Sally replies.
"It's okay," I say, softly. I lean back against the door, attempting to readjust my legs, so my knees draw to my chest. It's difficult and uncomfortable. "My appointment's tomorrow," I tell them.
No one says anything for a moment.
"Are you going?" Kristy finally asks.
"I don't know," I answer. I bite my lip and tug on the hem of my skirt, trying to pull it over my knees. It's freezing inside the car. "Mrs. Ellenburg said she'd make inquiries at some adoption agencies, but…I don't know if I can do that. Carry the baby to term and then give it up. And everyone would know. No one would ever forget. It's so selfish, I know…" I let my voice drift off and bite my lip again. "I think I may have the abortion."
Everyone's silent again.
"I think you're making the right choice," Greer says.
"Don't push her," Kristy scolds.
"Well, don't push her the other way," Greer snaps.
"I'm not!" Kristy protests. She leans forward to look at me. "I want you to be sure, that's all. You shouldn't let your mom or anyone else pressure you into doing this. You need to be sure."
"I agree with Kat," Sally says. "You aren't certain. You shouldn't rush into something you may regret."
"I'd just like to get it over with," I tell them.
"Our Christmas party is tomorrow night," Greer informs me. She repositions in her seat, bending one knee and resting her arm on it. "I'm supposed to help Mom after school, but I can probably beg off for a couple hours. I can drive you to the clinic."
I shake my head. "Your mom will be mad. And I think it'll take more than a couple hours."
Sally peeks around my seat. "My parents and I are supposed to leave for New York tomorrow for Christmas. We aren't leaving until late afternoon though. I'll take you to the clinic. Of course, I can't drive. Maybe our chauffer can drop us off."
I shake my head again. Taking a chauffeured car to an abortion clinic? It's so absurd that if I weren't near tears I might laugh.
"I have nothing to do tomorrow," Kristy says. "I'll drive you to the clinic, Shannon. And I promise I won't lecture you or make rude comments. I mean, I'll try really hard not to. I'll stay with you the whole time."
I bite my lip. I know Kristy means well. I know she is my friend. And I know how difficult it must be for her to offer when she disapproves so strongly of what I intend to do. But I don't think I can go to the clinic with Kristy.
I stare down at my knees. "Mrs. Ellenburg said she'd take me," I tell them, quietly.
"But you don't even know her!" Kristy exclaims, shocked. "Why would you want to go with someone you don't even know?"
I shrug. But I know the reason. I never fathomed myself in this position. I never imagined that I would be pregnant in high school, alone, and contemplating an abortion. I can't get much lower than this. I've hit bottom. Greer, Kristy, and Sally know the terrible things I've done. But I don't want them with me during my abortion. Somehow, that would make everything so much worse. They would see me hit bottom. See me hit it hard. Perhaps, I am selfish for not wanting them to see that. Maybe it shouldn't make a difference. They'll know anyway.
"Mrs. Ellenburg wants to take me," I say, still staring at my knees. Her opinion of me cannot possibly lower any further. And honestly, what she thinks of me does not much matter.
"If it's an adult you want," Kristy says, "my mom – " but she stops speaking when I shake my head vigorously.
"If this is what you want, Starshine," Sally tells me.
I nod, slowly, unsurely.
"I can't believe Mrs. Ellenburg wants to take you," Greer says, incredulously. "She's really conservative. I mean, she's from Greenvale. I'm less surprised that Kristy's willing to take you!"
Kristy shoots Greer a dirty look. I shrug. I don't much care why Mrs. Ellenburg wants to take me.
Greer checks her watch. "The bell is about to ring," she announces.
I nod and move my legs around, so I can leave the car. Slowly, we all open our doors and climb out. Somehow, I make it through the day without crying or throwing up.
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I'm lying on my bed later in the afternoon. I'm not doing anything. I'm simply lying on my back, gazing at the smooth white ceiling. I'm not really even thinking about anything. Not like I should be.
There's a soft knock on the door and Tiffany pokes her head in. "Do you feel all right?" she asks and slips into the room.
I roll my head to the side to look at her. "I'm fine," I lie. I don't sound convincing.
"Are you still going tomorrow?"
"I guess."
Tiffany sits down on the end of the bed. "I can go with you," she offers.
"No," I whisper. That would be even worse than Kristy. I wish Tiffany didn't even know. What she must think of me. What she must really think of me and is too kind to say.
"Is Greer taking you?"
I look back up at the ceiling and fold my hands on my stomach. I move them quickly away though. I don't like touching my stomach now. I don't like remembering what is there. "No," I answer, faintly. "Wes' mother said she'd take me."
"She wants to take you?" Tiffany asks, voice rising with surprise. She knows about Mrs. Ellenburg's visit. I told her about it last night. I just didn't tell her everything. "Why does she want to take you?" Tiffany asks a bit suspiciously. "Does she, like, want to make sure you actually get it done?"
I shrug my shoulders forward and hope Tiffany can see the gesture.
"Oh…well…Maria said she was nice…"
I roll my eyes. Maria's probably plotting ways to move in with Mrs. Ellenburg.
Tiffany shifts on the bed. "Maria decided she wants a Christmas tree," she says. "Tyler's borrowing his dad's truck and we're going out to the Christmas tree farm in Mercer. He'll be here in about fifteen minutes. Why don't you come with us? It would be…" Tiffany doesn't finish. I'm glad she doesn't say "fun".
"I'll stay here. Thanks for asking though," I reply and finally sit up. "I think the ornaments are in the attic. I'll get them down while you're gone."
"All right," Tiffany says and smiles slightly. "We'll bring back dinner. Do you have a preference?"
I shake my head. I'm still not eating much. I'm never very hungry.
As soon as Tiffany leaves, the telephone rings. I slide off the bed and walk sluggishly across the room to my desk. My hand hovers hesitantly over the phone. It rings sharply, cutting through the air. I finally pick it up.
"Hello?"
"It's Greer."
Relief washes over me. I'm afraid that Mrs. Ellenburg may change her mind and screech at me after all.
"How are you?" Greer asks.
I shrug, then realize Greer can't see me. "I'm fine," I lie and sound no more convincing than when I told Tiffany the same lie. I pick up the phone and cross to the bed, where I lie down.
"We're getting ready to leave for the Christmas pageant," Greer tells me. "Do you want to come? Maybe it'll do you some good to get out of the house and, I don't know, get your mind off everything. The pageant's really good. Karl's and my skit is the best part, of course. I don't think it's self-centered to admit that. And Sally's playing the piano. Dr. Patek made her choose an actual Christmas song, but I'm certain Sally has chosen the most depressing Christmas song in the history of the world." Greer laughs a bit awkwardly. "So, do you want to come?"
"Not really. I'm sorry, Greer."
"Oh…well, that's okay. I understand." The disappointment in Greer's voice is unmistakable. "Dad's videotaping it though, so you can see it later. If you want, that is. Are you coming to school tomorrow?"
"Maybe. My appointment's not until the afternoon." I wonder if I can make it through an entire day at school, an entire day of faking normal, knowing what I will do come two o' clock.
"If you don't come, I guess I won't see you until after the holidays then. We're leaving for New York on Saturday morning. But I'll call you tomorrow evening after…afterward."
"Okay," I say and close my eyes. A couple tears leak out of the corners. I don't bother wiping them away. Sally leaves for New York tomorrow. She and Greer will both be there visiting their families, having Merry Christmases. I wonder if they'll see each other; if they'll visit the tree in Rockefeller Center, check out the window displays on Fifth Avenue, ice skate in Central Park. They'll both be on the Upper East Side. And I'll be here. I shouldn't feel jealous.
"Well…" Greer says after a moment of silence. "I should finish getting ready. We're going to Pietro's after the pageant, but I should be home around ten. You can call me if you want to talk again."
"Thank you, Greer," I reply and hope she knows I mean for everything.
We hang up and I go into the bathroom. I wash my face, which makes me feel a little fresher, a little better. Then I walk down to the other end of the hall and open the door across from Mom and Dad's room. I pull down the ladder to the attic and climb up slowly, cautiously. When I pull myself into a sitting position on the floor, I flick on the light. It's very dim in the attic, but I manage to find the Christmas ornaments without any trouble. I drop the boxes down into the closet and hope most of the ornaments don't break. I don't bother with the other boxes of Christmas decorations. We never bother with those anymore.
I leave the boxes of ornaments stacked outside Mom and Dad's room. Tiffany and Maria can carry them down to the living room. I don't feel like do anything more for Christmas. Retrieving the ornaments was enough. It hardly feels like Christmas. It feels wrong to celebrate. All around me, people are happy and cheerful. At school, kids wear festive touches with their uniforms - red and green-striped scarves, tiny wreaths of holly pinned to their sweaters, reindeer earrings hanging from their ears. Christmas will never be the same for me. I don't think it will ever again feel magical.
In the bathroom, I run a bath. I'm dusty from the attic and Sally told me that she once heard you can't take a bath for a week after an abortion. I strip and pour rose-scented bubble bath under the faucet. I climb into the hot water and sit very still, knees drawn to my chest. I bury my face in my knees and cry. I sit until the tub fills completely and the water begins to cool to lukewarm.
Back in my bedroom, I change into a pair of pajamas even though it's only six o' clock. I've just closed the last button when the telephone rings. I lower gingerly onto the bed beside where I left the phone and watch it a moment. I take a deep breath and answer.
"Hello?" I squeak.
"Hello, Shannon," comes a cool voice. "This is Molly Ellenburg."
"Hello, Mrs. Ellenburg," I say, timidly.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"I have the information that I promised. I contacted a private adoption agency in Stamford and several in New York City. The process is very similar with each agency. Would you like to hear about it?"
Mrs. Ellenburg does not waste words.
"Yes, please."
"All right," Mrs. Ellenburg says and I hear papers shuffling. "Where did I put my glasses…ah, here they are…All right, Shannon. Now first, you will need to…"
I listen to Mrs. Ellenburg and my head begins to swim. She speaks without taken any breaths. I didn't imagine anyone could do such thorough research in less than a day. She tells me about meeting with prospective parents, signing waivers, closed adoptions, open adoptions, special homes for me to stay during the pregnancy. I don't think there's anything she's not thought of. It's overwhelming. I close my eyes and hold my head, which is splitting just listening to her. There's too much, there's too many decisions. I start to cry.
Mrs. Ellenburg stops speaking mid-sentence. She listens for a moment. "Shannon…are you all right?" she asks.
I take a gulping breath. "I'm keeping my appointment," I tell her in a gasp of breath. "I want to have an abortion."
There's a long silence.
"I'm sorry that you wasted your time," I apologize, wiping my eyes.
"It's quite all right," Mrs. Ellenburg replies. "Are you certain this is what you want?"
I hesitate. "I think so," I answer.
"You should be more certain than that."
"I'm certain," I reply, even though I am not. "Will you still take me?"
"Yes. I will take you, if you want me to. When is your appointment?"
"It's at two o' clock."
"I will pick you up at your house at one-thirty then."
"Thank you," I say, softly. I close my eyes tight. "Mrs. Ellenburg? Do you know how they do it? Do they cut me open?"
There's a pause on her end. "Didn't your mother explain it to you?" she asks.
I feel my face grow hot. I must sound like such a stupid girl. "No. She only made the appointment and told me when to go."
There's another pause. I wonder what Mrs. Ellenburg's thinking.
"The doctor will not cut you open," she finally replies in her measured voice. "I don't know much about it. I believe the doctor uses some sort of vacuum. It will be inserted through your cervix. I believe you will be given anesthesia. You won't be awake. I could call in the morning and find out more for you."
I still haven't learned what a cervix is. "No, that's okay. I guess they'll tell me at the clinic. Do you know – "
Another extension picks up. I hear it and stop speaking. Mrs. Ellenburg hears it, too. Neither of us speaks for a moment.
"Dennis?" Mrs. Ellenburg finally says. She waits a second. "Wesley, is that you?"
"Who are you talking to?" asks Wes' voice.
My stomach tightens. I almost throw up. It's startling to hear his voice again.
"What are you doing attempting to eavesdrop on my private conversation?" Mrs. Ellenburg demands, her voice losing its measured tone. "Get off the phone, Wesley. You're not five years old."
"Why are you in your bedroom with the door locked?" Wes asks.
"Will you please hang up the phone?" Mrs. Ellenburg replies.
Wes doesn't hang up and I barely breathe on the other end. If I breathe, it may lead to tears.
"A New York adoption agency called while you were at the salon," Wes tells his mother, flatly.
Mrs. Ellenburg curses. It's a bit shocking.
"Shannon?" Wes asks. "Is that you?"
I don't answer.
"Shannon?" Wes repeats.
"Yes?" I finally reply.
There's a drawn out silence.
"Oh, my God!" Wes cries. "You're actually pregnant! Oh, my God! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I told you!" I shout, angrily. "You hung up on me!"
"I'm not talking to you! I'm talking to my mother! Oh, my God, Mother!"
"Calm down, Wesley," Mrs. Ellenburg says, sharply.
"You're pregnant?"
"I'm sorry!" I exclaim and start to cry.
"When were you going to tell me?" Wesley demands and I have no idea if he's speaking to me or his mother or if it even matters. "She's actually pregnant?"
"Calm down, Wesley," Mrs. Ellenburg says, voice rising. "You're behaving like a child! I don't need you shrieking in my ear and neither does Shannon. Is it any wonder I didn't tell you? Get a grip, Wesley, or get off the phone."
I cover my eyes with my hand and sob quietly. On the other end, I hear what sounds like feet running on a hardwood floor, then a fist pounding on a door. The door opens and Wes shouts, "She's pregnant?" again and from the vague hollow echo coming through the phone, I know he and his mother are now in the same room. They cover the mouthpieces and I only hear faint sounds of them arguing. Wes might be crying.
Finally, Mrs. Ellenburg comes back on the line. "Shannon? I'll have to call you back," she says and hangs up.
I stare at the receiver, still crying. I hardly know what to think or how to feel. I wanted Wes to know. I wanted him to help me make a decision. But now I wish he had never found out. He's furious. He probably hates me more than he did before. I hold myself for a few minutes, sniffling on the bed, and then finally get up. I splash cool water on my face in the bathroom. It doesn't help.
Fifteen minutes later, the phone rings again. I answer without thinking.
"Hello?" I sound very tired.
"This is Molly Ellenburg," Wes' mother tells me. Her voice sounds normal again. Calm and almost soothing. "I apologize for that."
"It's okay," I say. My voice sounds like it's sagging.
"Wesley would like to see you before the abortion," Mrs. Ellenburg informs me. It's very matter-of-fact. "He's much too upset to speak to you now. I promise he will not behave like that again. Would you like to see him?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to school tomorrow? Stoneybrook Middle School lets out for Christmas break at noon. Wesley would like to come over around twelve-thirty."
"I'll be here."
After we hang up, I sit and stare at the wall, at nothing, for a very long time.