Chapter 8
“It’s ridiculous how much nicer the roads are up here,” Graham murmurs, gazing straight ahead, one hand gripping the wheel, the other on the gearshift. “As soon as we cross over the state line, there’re hardly any potholes.”
“That is ridiculous,” I offer before looking out the window. My mind is a million miles away, and I haven’t been able to focus on anything all week. Which is really inconvenient, considering all the studying I should’ve been doing.
Huffing out a dry laugh, he adds, “You’d think with all the money we pay in taxes in South Carolina, the roads would be immaculate.”
He’s making small talk. He’s done it since he picked me up this morning.
I think he’s nervous, and this is probably his way of calming those nerves.
Which is the only reason I haven’t snapped at him to shut the hell up yet, because the last thing I want to do is chit-chat, especially about the freaking condition of the roads.
Today’s the day… My abortion appointment.
And the truth is, I’m nervous too. Like, sick to my stomach, on the verge of losing my breakfast all over the cab of Graham’s truck, type nervous.
And I can’t seem to get out of my head. I barely slept last night, mostly because I don’t really know what to expect when I get there, or once it’s done.
I took a gander at Reddit to try to prepare myself, but what one person experienced is so vastly different from the next.
So, I genuinely have no freaking clue what to expect, which, naturally, makes my anxiety even higher.
I could’ve popped a Xanax, but I didn’t.
I don’t think it’s very good to take while pregnant.
Not like that should matter, given where I’m headed, but I don’t know…
it felt wrong. So instead, I’m raw dogging the unknown.
It doesn’t help that there’s a gnawing feeling in my gut, making me question if I’m making the right decision. Will this be a day I look back on and regret?
At around four, I gave up trying to sleep and walked down to the beach, hoping the saltwater air and the sound of the waves would help me relax.
It didn’t. The drive to the clinic takes about three and a half hours, so Graham was at my house at six o’clock sharp, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, with a breakfast sandwich and a smoothie he called the “Wonder Woman Smoothie.” It was dark pink and pretty good, even though I didn’t really feel like eating anything.
I still don’t know what was in it, but it’s probably better that way.
He’s a freakishly chipper guy in the morning, which I’d normally appreciate because I’m a morning person too, but not lately.
Lately, it feels like I’m running on an empty tank.
I’m constantly tired, but it’s so much more than just being tired.
It’s a bone-deep exhaustion. I got home from work yesterday and passed out on my couch for three straight hours.
I don’t ever do that. Then I had to talk myself into taking a shower before bed, because I knew I wouldn’t want to do it this morning.
I’m sure part of it is being pregnant, but I’m like five seconds pregnant.
What is there to be so tired for? Mostly, I think it’s the stress and anxiety I’ve been feeling from everything.
The news, and the decision I had to make.
How behind I am in my studies. And honestly, the only thing saving me from having a full-blown breakdown about that is the fact that I’m ahead of where I should be. So, I’m not technically behind, but it feels like it.
The dread I felt about telling Graham earlier this week really took it out of me, too. Mostly because I had worked up the situation in my head, thinking it would be a heated, explosive argument, so I prepared myself to have to defend my decision.
And of course, I appreciate how supportive and kind he is.
I appreciate how he insisted on not only coming to the appointment, but driving me too.
In reality, Graham’s probably relieved this is what I decided to do.
I mean, he’s a widower with a toddler, for crying out loud.
Having a baby with me would turn his entire life upside down.
But thinking he’s relieved stings a little, though I don’t know why.
It doesn’t make sense. I told him to support the decision I made, and he did. And this is what I decided.
I keep going back to the other night at Graham’s.
Getting Ellie Mae cleaned up after she got sick.
Talking to her softly as I got her dressed.
Her watching me with such a sweet expression.
Babbling at me as she fought falling asleep while I was rocking her.
Even though I had no clue what I was doing, it felt…
natural? I don’t know if that’s even the right way to put it.
It was such an intense feeling, this fierce need to make her feel safe and secure and comfortable, to calm her down.
And I did that. She was upset and crying, and I was able to soothe her and get her to sleep.
And I know it’s different because she’s not my kid, and I only had to be with her for a short time.
But ever since that night, I’ve been wondering if maybe I do have a nurturing side to me, if maybe I wouldn’t be as terrible of a mother as I think.
If there is a small part of me that could maybe see myself doing it.
But I can’t go there. This is what’s best for all of us.
And it’s what I want… Right?
“Is the temperature good?” he asks, glancing over at me. “Want me to turn the air on?”
My throat is uncomfortably tight for some reason. “Yeah, it’s good. Thanks.”
Graham flicks his gaze to his phone propped up on the dash before shifting his focus to the highway in front of us again. “Shouldn’t be more than another half hour until we’re there.”
Worried my voice will crack, I don’t say anything.
“I can’t believe the closest clinic to us is in Charlotte,” he blurts out, clearly back on the small talk. “Blossom Beach is a small town, I get that, but there are bigger towns much closer to us than Charlotte.”
“Yeah, well, it’s impossible to find a place in South Carolina that’s willing to do it,” I mutter under my breath. “There are other ones in North Carolina that are closer, but none that could get me in quickly. Sorry, I know it’s not ideal, spending most of your day driving.”
“No, hey,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t saying that to make you feel bad or anything.
I’m happy to be here.” Pausing, Graham clears his throat.
“Okay, maybe ‘happy’ isn’t the right word.
All I meant was, it’s shitty that there aren’t more accessible resources for pregnant people.
You shouldn’t have to leave the state to get the help you need. ”
I huff a breath through my nose. “Yup, that’s the patriarchy for you.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the silence is deafening.
It’s not long until we’re pulling into the parking lot, and before we even get out of the truck, I see them.
The picketers. My stomach drops as I unbuckle my seatbelt.
I knew the probability of them being here was high, but damn, I really don’t want to walk past them.
I’m too busy working on trying to calm down my racing heart that I don’t even notice Graham got out of the truck until my door opens and he’s standing there.
Climbing out, I can’t help but wonder what he sees right now as he looks at me.
Does he see someone who’s confident in what they’re about to do?
Or does he see the storm swirling around in my mind? Can he read the terrified, second-guessing thoughts all over my face?
“Ready?” he asks, his gaze soft on mine.
No, I’m not ready, is what I want to say, but instead, I swallow down the bitter taste on the back of my tongue, repeat to myself that this is what’s best, and nod.
As we walk through the parking lot, getting closer to the entrance—and the picketers holding signs I don’t even bother looking at—Graham moves to my left and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.
The backs of my eyes sting as I realize what he’s doing.
He’s shielding me from them.
Leaning in, mouth next to my ear, Graham says quietly, “Do not look at them.” There’s a fierceness in his tone that makes it hard to breathe. “This is your choice, Charley. They do not get a say. You’re doing what’s right for you. Do not let them make you feel bad about that, you hear me?”
All I can do is nod. If I say anything, I’m going to cry, and I can’t do that.
As soon as we’re inside the clinic, I breathe out a sigh of relief, though I don’t feel any better.
The lady at the front desk checks me in, then hands me a clipboard with a ton of paperwork to fill out, asking questions I know I already answered on the phone.
Once I’m finished, it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes to get back to a room.
The nurse goes over my information with me, explains the process and what will happen after the procedure, then lets me know they have to perform an ultrasound before they can get started.
Through the whole thing, it feels very out of body.
Like I’m not really here. A wave of nausea hits me, and I break out in a cold sweat as I undress and lay on the table.
My heart is pounding so hard, it’s difficult to sit still.
I don’t even stop to think how awkward all of this is with Graham sitting beside me.
I’m okay. This is okay. We’re here, and it’ll be over before I know it.
I will be okay.
But then the nurse asks me something as she inserts the ultrasound wand that I am not prepared for. “Would you like to see?”
Would I like to see?! What kind of question is that? Why would she ask me that?
Should I want to see? Do I say no? Yes?
Heart in my throat, panic lances through my chest, clutching my insides. “Yeah, that’s fine,” I mumble before I know what I’m saying. The nurse offers me a small, reassuring smile as she presses a few buttons on the machine in front of her.
I’m frozen. Can’t breathe. I don’t want to do this.
Turning my head toward Graham, he slips his hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay,” he mouths.
Is it, though?
“Alright, if you look right here,” she says quietly, and reluctantly, I do.
It’s a blob. I’m looking at a small blob that’s hard to make out on a tiny, dark screen.
Clenching my jaw, I swallow against the rush of emotion hitting me all at once.
My vision blurs, and no amount of blinking makes it go away.
That isn’t just a blob. It’s a little fetus that is the size of a green olive, according to the Google search I did the other night, and that green olive will grow into a baby.
A baby I could hold, and take care of, and love.
My baby.
As if Graham can sense my inner turmoil, he squeezes my hand.
Our baby.
I can’t do this. I can’t go through with this. I don’t want to.
The nurse finishes the ultrasound and gets up, telling me something, but I don’t hear a word of it. I’m too focused on what I’m supposed to do now. Is it too late? Am I stuck with this decision I’ve made? Can I change my mind?
Oh god, I’m going to be sick.
Don’t do that. Don’t puke.
It’s not until the door clicks shut after the nurse leaves that I manage to find my voice.
My blood is ice cold, body trembling as my gaze darts to Graham.
“I can't go through with this,” I blurt out. There’s a level of hysteria in my voice that I couldn’t help even if I tried. “I don’t want to, Graham. I can’t!”
His brows pinch as he jumps out of the chair and wraps me in his arms. “Hey, shhh, you’re okay. Just breathe.”
“I want this baby, Graham. I’m sorry.” A sob hiccups from my throat as I shake my head over and over again, hot moisture spilling from my eyes. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. I can’t do it. I want to have the baby. Please don’t hate me.”
One hand rubbing my back, the other on the back of my head, Graham holds me tight to his chest. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” His voice is so gentle. Soothing. “We can stop this right now and leave.”
“But it’s too much,” I cry against his chest. “You don’t want this. I can’t do that to you.”
Pulling back, Graham cups my face, forcing my gaze up to his. “That is not true. I told you I support you in whatever decision you decide to make. I meant that.”
“You have so much on your plate already, though.”
“That is for me to decide, and I know this would never be too much.” His thumb brushes under my eye, wiping away the wetness covering my cheek.
“Do you want to put a stop to this? Don’t think about anything other than what you want right now, Sunny.
Are you not wanting to go through with this? Do you want to leave?”
My bottom lip quivers as a fresh wave of tears falls down my face. I nod. “I don’t want to do this.”
“Thank god,” he breathes before pulling me into his chest again.
His arms are tight around me as I hug him back just as tightly.
The relief in his voice is enough to bring tears to my eyes and have my shoulders relaxing.
Graham holds me in his arms for a long while.
I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, feel how fast it’s pounding.
So is mine.
Relief floods my system, and I can breathe deeply for the first time all day.
All week, really. When he pulls back, it’s just enough to look into my eyes, and something passes between us, and suddenly, my pulse is racing for an entirely different reason.
Graham doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.
He pulls me into his chest again, and I hold on to him, needing this in a way I can’t explain.
Just like that evening, all those years ago in the sunflower field, I need this.
I need him. The comfort I feel with him.
Then his lips press to my forehead, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I forget how to breathe for a minute.
It’s not long before the door opens, and the moment is over.
Somehow, I’m able to call off the appointment, though I’m not sure how, with the blood rushing to my ears, making it hard to think.
Thankfully, the nurse leaves quickly. Neither of us says anything as I get dressed, or when we walk out, but I’m okay with it.
A calmness settles over me. I don’t know how this is going to work, or what’s going to happen next, but what I do know is that I’m making the right choice.
As we pull out of the parking lot, I exhale a deep breath.
“You okay?”
Still looking out the window, I turn my head toward Graham. There’s concern in his eyes. Am I okay? I don’t know, but I answer honestly.
“I think I will be.”