It still didn't seem real. This couldn't be happening, right? Helen had almost expected it to be a trick her mind was playing on her. It just had to be, but it wasn't. She was pregnant. She was pregnant. She was pregnant; and unfortunately, she knew all too well who the father was.
She'd hooked up with Anton just two months ago. It was only supposed to have been stress relief, that's all. After all, she couldn't just stand there and fume to herself while watching Bitsy and Ambrose come to blows with each other several times at the annual family reunion. Neither she nor Bitsy liked coming to these things, only going because Bitsy wanted to gloat to her older brother how much more she had going on for her in her life. During this one family reunion, Helen snuck off to the kitchen where Anton happened to be making some meat shakes for Ambrose, and she propositioned him for sex. She'd lost control that day. She didn't even know why. One moment, she'd been acting like herself; the next, she'd lost control and jumped onto him without even so much as a second thought.
They decided that the best place to give in to their carnal desires was in a broom closet. She still wasn't sure how they came to that. Then again, she hadn't anticipated that this kind of off-the-cuff encounter would change her life forever. She also hadn't anticipated how disappointing it would be when Anton came after they'd been going at it for thirty seconds, ending the hook-up right then and there.
It was supposed to have been a hook-up, nothing more. Then... it began. The missed periods came up almost as if out of nowhere. They didn't tip her off, though. She was at this stage in her life where they were supposed to come less and less frequently. She chalked those up to her being perimenopausal. She was, after all, forty-seven. But then her fatigue levels went through the roof, reaching a point where she struggled to stay awake for days at a time. This raised suspicion in her, but she chalked that up to working harder than usual (assuming that was even possible). She was starting to get an idea of what this could be, but she couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. Then she started feeling nauseous and dizzy. That was when it started clicking for her. Like she'd experienced twice before, morning sickness was taking its toll on her.
Helen knew she'd have to get the test soon, but how and when? But how and when? She couldn't just ask Bitsy about it. She'd never hear the end of it. This was the same hotel magnate who had fired employees time and time again for wanting to start families. Her only option was to find time to visit a pharmacy while taking Shampagne out on his daily walk. That opportunity would present itself while Bitsy was in the middle of a conference with someone she'd deemed important. Helen didn't get to see who it was, but she supposed their identity wasn't all that important. She had a pregnancy test she needed to buy.
By the time Helen had made it towards her destination, she was already feeling better. She made her way inside the pharmacy and looked around for a bit until she came across the feminine care aisle. Looking at it, she couldn't help but conjure up memories of the previous two times she'd bought pregnancy tests, once in 1978 and then again in 2001. In a way, it was bittersweet having to do this again, but she forced herself to shake away the emotions soon after. She was here for her own sake, not the daughter she had to give up for adoption when she was sixteen nor the girl she'd carried as a surrogate for her ex Byrne. She examined the tests sitting out on the shelf and looked around for the best one to get the job done.
Helen pulled a box off the shelf and gave it the once-over. "This one's supposed to give fast and accurate results. It must cost forty bucks, but I'll have to buy it anyway." She then looked around some more. "In fact, why don't I just get a few more? I just need to make sure before I make a doctor's appointment, that's all."
After a while of getting everything she needed, Helen finally made it home, with Shampagne leading the way.
Helen ended up having to take the test many times. They all came up positive, every last one. Finally, her doctor confirmed her worst fears when she deemed her pregnant. She hadn't wanted a child, not here, not now, not when Bitsy's inheritance was practically within her grasp. She especially hadn't wanted to have a child with Anton. Then again, life didn't always turn out that way. She knew she needed to make a decision soon. Many choices lay before her. One of them was getting an abortion, but she couldn't help but hesitate when that choice came up. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable solution, and it seemed like a pretty simple one as well. All she'd have to do was abort the baby (er, embryo) and then go back to her duties like nothing happened.
Part of the unease that came with the choice came from her Catholic faith. Growing up, she'd been taught that abortion was a huge no-no because it was considered tantamount to murdering someone. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Pope Benedict XVI felt the same way. If she went through with aborting the embryo, would she go to hell? She needed to talk to someone about this. Of course... Lionel! When he wasn't working behind the hotel bar, he was giving out sage advice and helping people with their dilemmas. She sought him off amidst his shift and called out to him.
"I wonder what Helen's doing down here," a patron mused out loud. "You think Bitsy sent her down here?"
"I don't know," Lionel replied. "I guess we'll just have to see."
Irritated that Lionel didn't respond right away, Helen stepped closer to the bar before then sitting down.
"What brings you down here?" Lionel asked Helen. "Did Bitsy ask you to get another drink?"
Helen shook her head. "I need to tell you something, Lionel. It's, uh... been gnawing on my mind."
"Okay..." Lionel stopped what he was doing and started focusing all his attention on Helen. "What is it you need to tell me?"
"I'm pregnant."
Lionel wasn't quite sure what to say. "Oh, um... congratulations."
"No, you don't understand. I think I want to get an abortion."
"Okay... that's fine, too. Your body, your choice."
"Thanks, but I have something else I need to ask you."
It piqued Lionel's curiosity further. "Uh-huh, what is it?"
"If I go through with this abortion, will I go to hell?"
Lionel struggled to answer the question despite how straightforward it seemed. He hadn't the slightest idea what it was like to have the choice to terminate a pregnancy, nor did he fully understand what it was like to make that choice. Still, Helen had come to him for advice. Despite this kind of situation being out of his depth, he still had to find a way to help her somehow.
"Well?" Helen asked after a while. "Will I?"
Lionel cleared his throat. "Well, let me put it this way. Do you feel like you could take care of a child at this point in time?"
"...No. I don't think I can. I don't think I could even afford to take care of a child on the kind of salary Bitsy gives me."
Lionel exuded a sense of confidence as he crossed his arms. "That settles it, then. You should get the abortion."
"You still haven't answered my question about whether I'll go to hell for doing that."
"I don't think I can really answer that in good conscience, but I'm sure God knows deep down that you're doing what's right for you."
By now, Helen's mind had already been made up. No use in keeping the pregnancy; especially not when there was a chance either Bitsy or Ambrose would've done everything in their power to terminate it themselves. She very well couldn't risk them finding out about it, either. They might've felt threatened by it, or it could've triggered a scandal that would end disastrously for everyone involved. Better, then, was it for Helen to terminate the pregnancy furtively than for her to cause unnecessary pain and anguish.
She had decided to do this within the comforts of her living quarters. She wasn't sure she wanted to risk being seen getting one in public, much less any paparazzi who flocked to these kind of scandals like vultures. She'd also stocked up on mifepristone and misoprostol beforehand after stopping by a health center in Syracuse. According to the doctor she'd spoken to, she needed to take mifepristone first, for that would block her progesterone supply and stop the pregnancy from growing. Then she would have to take the misoprostol either right away or up to two days later. She was also instructed to take pain medicine thirty minutes before she was supposed to take the mifepristone. After she'd taken the pain medicine, she braced herself and started mentally counting down to when she would take the mifepristone.
As it so happened, Bitsy happened to have spotted Helen taking the pain pills.
"Were you taking ibuprofen just now?" Bitsy asked suspiciously.
"Yes, but only because I have a headache," Helen lied.
"Funny, I've never seen you take pain medication before."
"I mean, you don't really need to see me take it now, do you?"
"...you got me there. Anyway, I want you to fetch me a Pop Goes The Weasel and some Xanax. I've had a really stressful morning."
"Oh, I bet."
"Well, what are you waiting for? Just go!"
Without hesitating any longer, Helen headed down to the bar and didn't say much else. She had to look on the bright side, though. She had another chance to talk to Lionel while she was down there, but she couldn't waste any time. In twenty-eight minutes, she was going to have to take the mifepristone. Still, it'd be nice to talk to him again before she made a life-changing decision.
"Bitsy sent you down here to get her a drink, right?" Lionel asked when Helen came into view.
Helen nodded. "She wanted a Pop Goes The Weasel."
"That figures."
"Oh, she also wanted me to get her some Xanax."
"Okay... Speaking of pills, did you take your pain medication yet?"
Helen nodded again. "Yeah. Now I just have to wait twenty-five minutes before I can take the mifepristone."
Lionel could only give out a titter. "Alright, give me a second. Once I make the Pop Goes The Weasel for you, take it and go find the Xanax. I just want to make sure we're not wasting any time here."
"Okay."
After she'd retrieved the Pop Goes The Weasel from Lionel and the Xanax, Helen finished her tasks much quicker than she'd expected. On the bright side, she still had plenty of time before she was supposed to take the mifepristone. Nineteen minutes, in fact. Every second she spent mentally counting down until she could begin terminating her pregnancy felt like it dragged on forever. Why did it have to feel that way? It didn't have to feel that way. Frankly, it was quite aggravating. The sooner she got it over with, the better she'd feel about it.
Nine minutes went by as slowly as they possibly seemed to. Just ten minutes left. She decided to head straight for the bathroom where she knew she'd stored the mifepristone and misoprostol. She didn't want to take any chances nor did she want to procrastinate any further. She waited out the remaining ten minutes as she contemplated her life going forward. She kept telling herself that this would be worth it in the end, that she was sparing the embryo from having to endure a lifetime of strife and pain. Despite the unease that still lingered, she knew she was doing what was right for her. This was the best decision she could've made in this situation. Eventually, the ten minutes were up, and she took the mifepristone. This was it. This was the point of no return.
Slight relief washed over her after she took the mifepristone. Immediately afterwards, she took the misoprostol. After letting the misoprostol tablets dissolve under her tongue for half an hour, she braced herself for the cramps and the bleeding that would soon follow. She'd mentally prepared herself for this, but she wasn't sure how painful it would all be once they came.
And then what she could only describe in hindsight as some of the most horrific pain she could've experienced began to manifest faster than her brain could register. First, the cramps came in waves, the intensity shooting ever upward as they cascaded through her abdomen. Her eyes shot open in abject shock. She tried to distract herself from the pain, but it was no use. The cramps kept coming and didn't stop. She had to fight the urge to cry out in pain as the cramps kept on coming. Bitsy would probably use her vulnerability against her somehow. Still, as awful as Bitsy was, Helen was determined to stick with her until the end and get her money. Around the same time she was cramping, Helen was bleeding. It felt like pints and pints of blood were flowing freely out of her and dropping into the toilet water below. It hardly felt real. Time seemed to drag on again until it slowed to a screeching halt. When would this end? She didn't know, and she couldn't know. It felt like she'd slipped into a void with no one else but her inside.
Eventually, the cramps would subside and then fade away entirely, and the bleeding would stop. Helen found the strength from within to lift herself up from the toilet seat and stand. Finally, the hard part was over. She dared not to look into the toilet, however. She'd probably see her reflection stare back at her from the surface. Without a word, she put the toilet seat down and then flushed. Now that that was out of the way, things could go back to normal. She took a deep breath, washed her hands, and then left the bathroom. Once out, she found herself facing Bitsy.
"What took you so long?" Bitsy asked, not even seeming a little concerned about what had just transpired.
"I just got my period," Helen lied.
Bitsy scrunched her face in disgust. "Ew. I'm so glad I don't get those anymore. They're the worst things ever."
"Yeah, tell me about it."
"You got my drink and Xanax, right?"
Helen nodded. "I gave them to you several minutes ago."
"Oh, right. Uh... next time, don't hog up the bathroom. I might need it for all you know."
"Okay."
All Helen could do at this point was inwardly sigh. It was, without a doubt, the hardest decision she'd ever had to make. Nevertheless, it was for the best she made it. There just wasn't any room for raising a child on top of enduring abuse from a vertically challenged hotel magnate. She was certain she also spared that embryo from growing up in a toxic environment. She couldn't really blame anyone for having to make such a decision. In fact, no one was to blame. Helen also wasn't sure how she would survive this environment for several more years, but she was going to find a way. She was going to find a way. After all, as the saying went, "If there's a will, there's a way."