Hey guys! Fluff is over, time to get back to business. New territory now: A chapter all for the lovely Sarah Jane. Have at it!
"Honey, are you alright? You haven't eaten any of your supper. It's your favorite! I made it just for you!"
Sarah Jane sat up straighter in her chair at the dinner table and picked up her fork. "Yes momma, I'm fine. I'm just a little tired is all." Her mother frowned and glanced at her father, and Sarah Jane forked a mound of potatoes into her mouth. "See? Totally fine! By the way, the food is wonderful as always."
Sarah Jane's mother sighed and crossed her arms. "Thanks, but you don't seem fine. Something is making you ill, that I know."
Sarah Jane shrugged her shoulders and helped herself to another roll from the basket in the center of the table. "Guess I just ate something that didn't agree with me. It happens." She tore off a piece and chewed, then dipped the rest in a puddle of gravy.
"Yes…" Sarah Jane's mother watched her eat for a moment. Her voice seemed far away, like she was thinking about other things. "Yes it does…"
She blinked, then picked up the platter of meat from where it sat to her left and offered it to her husband. "More roast beef, Frank?"
-x-x-x-
The second Sarah Jane could be excused from the table, she scooped up her dishes and threw them in the sink before rushing down the hall and across the house to the bathroom that was farthest away from the kitchen. Once inside, she shut the door. She didn't want the sound of her supper being flushed down the toilet to be broadcasted through the entire house.
After a minute, her stomach settled enough for her to lean back against the tub. She brushed her hair back from her sticky forehead and rested her head between her knees.
She had put it off long enough. She had to see a doctor. Tomorrow.
There was also something else that she had been putting off all day. A letter had come in the mail for her from Alfred Jones, the Marine from the fair. The one who had fallen head-over-heels for her so quickly.
She slowly pulled the letter from the pocket of her dress and tore the envelope open. With shaking fingers, the withdrew the paper inside. It was stained and folded into a tiny square. Gingerly, she unfolded the paper and read what was written on it.
So he had made it to Europe after all, that was good.
She reached the part about how he promised to court her properly once he returned home to the States, she couldn't help but smile a little. She had to admit that Alfred was, quite frankly, adorable.
When Alfred mentioned James Smith, she thought for a moment back to about a week or so ago. She thought that she had seen something about him in the paper… Or seen his name or something… Yes, she had. In a column on the front page. The casualty list.
As she reached the end of the letter, she laid the paper down on her lap. A picture was easy. She could take care of that tomorrow. Maybe after that doctor's appointment.
Sarah Jane refolded the letter and went into her room. She was tired, and she figured that she would feel better in the morning.
She made three more trips that night to the bathroom to vomit. With every trip, the weight in her stomach grew, and the feeling of dread increased.
-x-x-x-
The waiting room was painted a sterile white, and the air that blew out from the vent above Sarah Jane's head made her shiver. She tried moving, but the polar stream of air followed her across the room from one uncomfortable plastic chair to the next. There was something about this waiting room that made her feel uneasy.
When the nurse called her name, she couldn't get out of there fast enough. However, when she was placed in an exam room in the back, the same sterile white greeted her, along with the same cold air, and the same uneasiness.
She hated this place already, and she had been inside for all of ten minutes.
A nurse came back to check her vital signs, and to ask about why she was there. Sarah Jane told her what she could, and the nurse walked out again. She waited for about ten more minutes. Bored, she picked at the paper that covered the bed she was sitting on. She looked at the posters on the wall detailing different parts of the body. The sink in the corner dripped consistently every forty-three seconds.
The door opened, and the doctor came in. Sarah Jane read on his nameplate that he was Dr. Hedgepath. He had a bald head, a white beard, and a pair of wire rimmed glasses, and he sat on a stool across from her and listened as she told him everything that she had already told the nurse earlier. The doctor furrowed his unkempt eyebrows and nodded, rubbed his beard, then said that he would need to have the nurse run some tests. After that, he left.
Sarah Jane waited another ten minutes. By now she was quite sick of that stupid dripping sink, and she was tired of reading the same posters over and over again. She then wished that she had thought to bring a book with her.
The nurse came in again, this time carrying a metal tray in her hands. There were syringes, cups, cotton balls, needles, and a bottle of alcohol on the tray. "I'm going to take some blood, and I'm going to need you to provide a urine sample." That was all she said. Sarah Jane nodded and let the nurse do her job, then she went to the bathroom. She came out and gave the nurse what she needed. She was then ushered back to her room, where she waited for another twenty minutes.
She had very nearly shut the water off for the sink out of annoyance when the door opened again. This time it was the doctor. He had a clipboard in his hand, and he closed the door behind him softly.
He asked only one question. "How old are you?"
Sarah Jane swallowed. Her throat had suddenly gone dry, and she felt like she was trying to swallow a handful of rocks. "Eighteen." She tried to swallow again, but she still felt like she was trying to swallow dirt. "Why?"
The doctor took off his glasses and looked her in the eye. "Sarah Jane, do your parents know?"
Her heart sank. "Know… Know what?" But she knew exactly what he was going to say.
"That you're pregnant."
-x-x-x-
As she walked home from the doctor's office, she felt numb. This was surely the end of everything. Her parents had always told her that if she were ever to do anything like this, they would kick her out of the house faster than she could argue. She had been so stupid… All she had wanted was to do something that she had wanted, but this was far from the end result that she had envisioned. Alfred had been the only one she had ever been with, and she was forced to send Matt, the sailor, away. Something just didn't feel right. The outright confidence that she had shown was nothing short of brazen, Hollywood-worthy acting. She had been faking apathy for so long that she had even believed it herself.
She had made a terrible mistake. In her family's eyes, it was a mortal sin. She would bring shame to them and to their name. They would be the family gossiped about around every dinner table. The conversation would go, "Would you pass the rolls please? Oh, and did you hear about that Elliot girl? She ran off and got herself pregnant!" That simply couldn't happen. Her family would sooner throw her out for a moment of youthful, if flawed, passion.
She had ruined her life. But it wasn't only hers on the line.
She had brought Alfred's to an end as well. That is, if he would even have anything to do with her.
She had become a Hester Prynne, and the proverbial scarlet letter would soon bare itself to every prying eye that glanced her way.
She stopped walking down the sidewalk and leaned against the side of a brick building, which one exactly, she didn't know and quite frankly didn't care. The sobs came quickly and quietly, and she slowly sank down onto the concrete, which was already warmed from sunshine.
What have I done?
-x-x-x-
She wrote the letter as soon as she got home.
Alfred,
I'm so glad that you've made it to Europe safely! It's just as boring as normal here, so you're not missing out on anything, I can assure you. Just normal things. Oh hey, a bomber crash landed into a house in Merriam. Well, that's not exactly normal by any stretch of the imagination, but you know. Work with me here. Nothing new.
Alfred, what in the world do you want with a picture of me? You gonna show me off to your war buddies? I'm not some pinup girl, you know! I'm totally kidding with you, I'm sending you the photostrip that we took at the fair with this letter.
I was torn about whether to tell you this or not, but I figured that it would be the right thing to do for both of our sakes. The English haven't landed in a while, and I just think that you need to know.
Come home soon
Sarah Jane
Sarah Jane fished the photostrip from where she had stashed it in a drawer in her nightstand. Their two faces were trapped in the four frames. Her painted lips were drawn back in broad smiles. His mouth was wide with toothy grins. As she gazed at the thin glossy paper held between her fingertips, her eyes rested on the final frame at the bottom of the strip. The last frame had grown to be her favorite. In it, she was sitting to Alfred's right. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he was leaned over in an attempt at sneaking a kiss. She was in mid laugh, her eyes shut, head thrown back, hair cascading over her shoulders.
She had decided that there was something magical about that one moment, captured in four white paper frames for all of eternity. As much as she loved the picture herself, she could think of nothing better than for Alfred to have it. He needed it more than she did anyway.
She folded the letter carefully and inserted it into the white envelope, addressed it, licked the stamp. She nearly slid the photostrip in, but on a whim, she turned it around to the back. Carefully she jotted down a note.
Don't forget to come back. You promised!
The letter fully completed now, she laid the photostrip inside of the envelope and sealed it. The mailman would come and pick the letter up tomorrow morning, and it would be inside of the mailbox, waiting. Waiting to fall into the hands of an eagerly expectant young Marine.
No one but Sarah Jane knew that that letter was sealed with a kiss.
She was quite certain that she was beginning to fall for Alfred, even though he made his bed thousands of miles and an ocean away.
Thanks for reading! You know the drill. Reviews are wonderful, I love them, please leave one if you are so inclined. If you do, I love you. If you don't, I still love you.
Much love,
Harley