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This sudden inspiration has not given yet.

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Confliction At It's Finest

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I went out on the dock to meet Gretchen. I called her to get some insight.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," Gretchen said back.

"Um, thank you for meeting me here. I didn't wanna go to your place for obvious reasons."

"Understood. What's up?"

"My mom is having an abortion. And, uh, I-I'm not sure that I'm dealing with it too well. And on- on top of that, I feel awful about what they must be going through."

I could see that her face switched over very quickly.

"Well, what's the problem, really, Dawson? Are you worried about them? Or is it that your illusions of parental infallibility are finally shattered?"

The sass in her voice was evident but, I choose to ignore it.

"Well, they were pretty much shattered during my mom's affair. But, um... What's your problem?"

"What do you think my problem is, Dawson?"

"I think you went through what my mom's going through."

The air stilled and part of me felt guilty for even asking.

"Heh. You're good," she said.

"Uh, y-you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Well, isn't that why you called me here?" she shot back sharply.

I exhaled deeply.

"I need to understand why she's doing it. And I know that your situation is probably completely different, but- I thought you might be able to help me. Otherwise, I never would have brought it up."

I didn't want anything against my mom and I felt like Gretchen could help me with that.

Gretchen sighed, "Heh! It's ok. I get it. You're right. I did get pregnant last semester. In the backseat of my-my boyfriend's Geo Prizm in the dorm parking lot while my roommate was studying for finals. Lynyrd Skynyrd was on the radio. And I hate Lynyrd Skynyrd... Which made me even madder when I found out that I was pregnant. So, there I was, you know, 20 years old, piles of student loans, a-a 2.9 GPA. So I made a decision. It was the hardest decision that I ever made in my life. "

She paused.

"But it didn't matter, because... A week later, I woke up, and it was over. I had a miscarriage. And you'd think that I'd be happy, you know? But I wasn't. I felt really guilty. You know, for- for getting off easy, for-for feeling relieved, and for putting myself in a position where I even had to make that kind of a decision."

"Does that mean that your decision was the same as my mom's?"

"Does it really matter?"

I shook my head, "No. Thank you."

"For what?" she asked.

"For trusting me. I won't tell anyone."

"I know you won't," she replied assured and I was telling the truth I wouldn't, not anyone.

When I got back home I went into the living room to find my parents.

"Um... I just got a few minutes before I gotta go to Mr. Brooks', but, um... Uh... I wanted to say something about how I feel about your situation. Mom, you said that when you sat down to make this decision that you considered all the facts. But I think you're forgetting the most important one, and I just want to make sure that you have it before you make your final decision. You are the best mother that I know, and you're wrong if you think you've disappointed me at every turn, mom. All you've done is make me proud. You're not afraid to make mistakes and then to pick up and to keep going and keep trying new things, and I owe so much of who I am to you. To both of you. I used to idealize this perfect childhood with this perfect little house, and then you guys gave me something so much better. You gave me something real. And were I to do it over again, I would not change a thing. And if you guys are even half the parents to your next kid that you were to me, he would be the luckiest kid in the whole world."

As I finished there were tears in my parent's eyes.

"Thank you, honey," my mom said lightly.

"It's gonna be ok, mom."

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I went out and started on the porch at Mr. brook's home.

Mr. Brooke came outside, probably to harass me some more.

"Each time I step out onto this porch to watch you at work, Mr. Leery, I breathe a sigh of relief that I'm not paying you. This way, I can still hire a professional to paint over your mess."

"You know, Mr. Brooks, I actually think I'm doing a pretty good job."

"We all have our illusions. Ah, I see you've been hard at work adding to your collection. Ah, trite. A naked attempt to evoke sentiment. Why not just shoot a photo of a puppy in garbage can, huh? Hmm."

He picked up two of my pictures.

"'Hmm'? That's the best scathing criticism you can muster?" I said annoyed with him.

"Sometimes honesty is scathing, Dawson. I can't help that. But this last one... Ah... This last one is actually not bad. It's the first picture that makes a connection with the subject, as if you're not only shooting her melancholy but your own. This is the first one I've seen with a bit of you in it. This one has potential. I don't see you painting, Mr. Leery."

He put the pictures down and went inside.

After he let I stood and went over to my photos I looked at the last photo. It was of Gretchen and Scarlett at the restaurant. They were both laughing about something. They looked close though they barely knew each other.

I sighed.

I liked Gretchen but, Scarlett...wasn't an option.

I was conflicted and something told me that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

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