Maura doesn't say anything. She gets out of bed, and wanders into the closet. Allison calls after her.
"You're not going to say anything?"
Maura comes out of the closet with clean clothes, "I am going to take a shower."
"That's cold."
"No," Maura shakes her head, "I have to walk away. I need a few minutes to myself, to process what you just told me. I don't want to say something, that I'll regret," she reveals, as she steps into the bathroom.
"Ok," Allison nods, as Maura closes the bathroom door.
Allison leaves the room, and heads into the hallway. From the hallway she stops off in the guest bedroom. She grabs clothes, and goes into the guest bathroom, for a shower. She begins peeling clothes. She stops, and looks at herself in the mirror. The scar, on her right arm catches her attention.
She studies the scar in the mirror. The scar that reminds her, she's not perfect. A PICC line scar. The reminder from her first battle with cancer. A battle she had thought she won, until now. Her eyes travel to the reflection of her face. Her face is pale, much paler than usual. There are heavy, dark circles under her eyes. She looks sick. She turns on the shower, and climbs in, preventing herself from obsessing.
Maura finishes her shower. She grabs a towel, and steps out. She stops in the mirror, and checks her reflection. She pulls on her undergarments, once she's got her bra on, she hangs the towel back up. One towel remains wrapped around her wet hair. She moves over to the bathroom door. On the back of it, hangs a full length mirror. She stops, and looks at herself. Her eyes linger on a scar. The scar is hardly visible.
The horizontal scar, across her lower abdomen. A reminder, that no matter how far away, her daughter was, at any given time, she was once there. Inside of her, in a breech position, for the entire last month. That, is the reason, for the scar. Despite Maura's best attempts, the little girl refused to turn around. And after hours of excruciating pain, in an attempt to deliver the baby, naturally, her attempts proved futile.
She stares at the c-section scar. It was faint, but any lay person, could tell you what it was. She had once, briefly considered putting a tattoo over it. Once she saw the drawing, she realized that it would just draw more attention to it. So, if anyone ever asked her, about it, she would make something up. She would lie through her teeth, to avoid revealing her past.
She moves away from the mirror. She dries her hair, and gets dressed, for the day. She exits the bathroom, and goes down the stairs. She stops in the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, in search of something to eat. She settles on low-fat, vanilla, yogurt. She takes a seat, on a barstool, in front of the island.
Allison comes down the stairs, a few minutes later. She doesn't even look at the refrigerator. She simply takes a seat, next to Maura. She looks at her, waiting for her to say something. She eat her yogurt, in silence.
"Say, something, please."
"I am not sure that you want to hear what I have to say," Maura admits, putting the yogurt aside.
"Yes, I do."
"I don't want to say something, that I will regret, later."
"It's ok. I can handle, whatever, you have to say."
"You acted irresponsibly."
"You want to start off there? Really? Because that certainly seems like the pot calling the kettle black. You got pregnant with me, at sixteen. Now, you're thirty eight, and you have gotten pregnant again. Both times, unintentionally. Both times, you were fully aware of how to prevent it."
"I know that. It doesn't change the fact, that you were irresponsible, too."
"Don't you think that I know that?"
"Allison, you are twenty-one. You know better."
"You're thirty-eight, what happened?"
"I was stupid."
"And, yet you act as if what I did is worse."
"I expect more for you," Maura reveals.
"I am sorry to disappoint you."
"I'm not disappointed."
"It seems that way."
"Allison, I'm angry."
"You don't get to be angry at me," she argues.
"I am," Maura counters.
"Why?"
"You are not ready to have a baby."
"Maybe," Allison trails off, and decides not to say something hateful, and hurtful, to Maura.
"Have you thought about the risks of having this baby?"
"You're asking me if I've thought about not having this baby? I can't believe that you would ask me that. What would make you think, that I would even consider having an abortion? You had me, before your seventeenth birthday."
"The circumstances are completely different."
"I know, I could get a good job, and take care of a baby."
Maura shakes her head, in disbelief, "You are not being realistic."
"Why do you say that?"
"Allison I understand wanting to have something, that is your own. I get that."
"No, you don't. I was told, that the likelihood of me ever getting pregnant, was less than one percent. I thought that I was never going to get the chance to have a child."
"I understand that."
"Do you?"
"Yes, I do. Allison, I understand why you want to do this."
"This baby, is a miracle, and I'm not..."
Maura cuts her off, "And after that baby gets here, who is going to raise it."
"I will."
Maura flares her nostrils, "You can't raise a baby, if you're dead."
"So, what? You want me to abort this baby, and go through another round of treatment. You want me to be miserable, for the next several months, while they attempt to kill the cancer? And then what? After all of that, I will not be able to have a baby. I will never be able to conceive a child."
"What good are you going to be, to that baby, if you're dead?"
"I'm not having an abortion."
"Allison have you considered what happens, if the cancer spreads?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if it affects the baby. Or, what if it effects you, so much that the baby has to be delivered, prematurely. And, then it has no quality of life? Have you considered that?"
"I am going to do this."
"You will be lucky, to see your child go to pre-school."
"I know that."
"And, then what? If you die, what happens to your baby? Who raises it? Who gets to pick up the pieces?"
"I don't know," she shrugs.