Chapter 31
Meela reaches over and opens the car door as soon as she sees me. “Hey,” I mumble, sliding into the passenger seat and strapping on my seatbelt.
“Hey,” she replies, her gaze roaming over my face. “How are you?”
“Not good,” I answer truthfully. “I feel like the worst person in the world.”
My emotions are all over the place. Today is the day.
I got dressed and went to school like normal, pretending like my heart wasn’t breaking.
Between Sandman and my nerves, I only got about three hours of sleep last night.
If he noticed I wasn’t my usual self, he didn’t say anything.
By the time he left, I was exhausted and sore, but the pain was very much welcomed.
It took my mind off what’s to come, however briefly.
Meela angles her body toward me. “Listen to me. You’re not the first girl to get an abortion, and you won’t be the last, but it’s not too late to change your mind. We can play hooky at the mall and indulge in a little retail therapy instead.”
“I need to do this,” I say for my own benefit more than hers. “I need to take control of my life.”
“Okay, but the moment you start having second thoughts, just say the word and we’re out of there.” After my nod of confirmation, Meela puts the car in drive and begins the two-hour journey.
So far, everything is going according to plan.
Still, I keep my head on a swivel, terrified Sandman’s henchmen are going to pop up out of nowhere.
There’s no way they’d recognize me. Heck, I barely recognize myself in this getup.
The oversized hoodie, sweatpants, Crocs, sunglasses, and pixie-cut wig were provided by the girl in the driver’s seat.
I changed into the disguise after breakfast and made my getaway seconds before the late bell rang for homeroom.
Leah stayed behind to explain our absence if necessary.
“Thanks for letting me borrow the rest of the money. I’ll pay you back on Friday.”
“No problem.”
My goal was to save money—that’s the only reason I got a job.
But that plan went to hell in a handbasket with my first paycheck.
I had to pay Leah and my grandmother back.
Then my egg donor had her hand out—so did my aunt.
After grabbing some essentials, there wasn’t much left.
The woman who birthed me is my biggest expense, taking nearly half my paycheck.
I’ll be happy when she finally lands that rich husband. That’s for damn sure.
I sigh. Nothing in my life is going the way it was supposed to.
I rummage through my purse in search of my favorite lip gloss. “Shit.”
“What?” Meela questions, glancing over at me.
“My wallet,” I explain, shaking my head. “I must’ve left it in my other purse.” Maybe this is a sign for me not to go. Should I not go? I feel so torn.
“No biggie.” She turns right instead of keeping straight toward the highway. “I’ll swing by your house.”
“Okay. I don’t know how I forgot it.”
At least no one will be home except my mother, and she’s more than likely still asleep. She won’t bother me in any case since it’s not payday. Keith left for work hours ago, and my grandmother has a doctor’s appointment, so she and my aunt won’t be home.
“You have a lot on your mind.”
I stare out the window, seeing nothing, blinking back the tears threatening to spill free. A few succeed despite my best efforts. I’m dying inside. I want to curse God, curse the universe, curse fate—curse whoever or whatever allowed this to happen. The lie you told allowed this to happen.
“Hey, we’re here,” Meela announces, concern evident in her voice. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I don’t have a choice,” I whisper brokenly.
“You do—”
“Be right back.” I stumble from the car as more tears roll down my cheeks, but I come to a dead stop when I spot Keith’s truck in the driveway.
Great. What’s he doing here? I hurry inside, making a beeline for the basement door, but banging in the kitchen piques my curiosity. I creep past the basement door, quiet as a mouse, and glance around the corner. No, no, no, no.
“What are you doing?” I shout, stepping into full view. “Have you lost your mind?” I place a hand just below my throat, disgusted by the scene in front of me.
Keith leaps away from my mother, who he had bent over the table. His erection stands straight out, glistening with my mother’s juices.
I clutch the wall for support. “I’m going to be sick.”
“You’re supposed to be in school,” she admonishes, pulling on her bathrobe. “What are you doing home?”
“That’s all you have to say?” I ask incredulously. “What are you doing fucking Sheila’s husband?”
“We love each other,” she declares with a haughty tone. “We’re going to be together.”
I laugh mirthlessly. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re just an easy lay for him.”
“That’s not true,” Keith chimes in. “I’m going to leave Sheila for your mother.”
I look at him, thanking the heavens that his male part is back in his pants. “You know their history. How could you do this to your wife? She’s pregnant with your baby for God’s sake.”
My mother struts over to him and curls herself against his side. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”
I roll my eyes. “Momma, you can’t be serious. We’re on the streets as soon as Sheila finds out. And what about Grandma? Don’t you care about her at all? Her last wish is for her daughters to get along before she dies.”
“Keith will take care of us,” she remarks confidently and places a lingering kiss on his cheek. “And we all can’t get what we want. Doesn’t my happiness count?”
I throw my hands in the air and walk away. Talking to that woman is like talking to a brick wall.
“We’re going to get married,” she calls after me. “You just wait and see.”
“He already has a wife!” I yell over my shoulder. I hurry into the basement and find my wallet on the floor next to the air mattress. I practically run back to Meela’s car.
“Everything cool?” she asks once my seatbelt is secured.
I slump against the seat and squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to calm my racing mind.
I fucking loathe my mother with every fiber of my being.
How can someone be so selfish? Sure, Sheila is a bitch, but she doesn’t deserve this and neither does my grandmother.
She’s too old and fragile to deal with this bucket of bullshit.
I can’t tell them. My aunt would throw us out on our asses in a heartbeat.
I don’t have as much faith in my mother’s lover “taking care of us” as she does.
Doesn’t every married man make the same proclamation to their mistress to keep getting the goods?
Rarely does a cheating man leave his wife.
What the hell was she thinking? I can’t afford to take care of us on my own.
I sigh and pry my eyes open. “Not in the least.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
I shake my head. “Not now.”
Meela doesn’t push for details, which I’m extremely grateful for. I’m just so tired of it all. We barely speak as the miles pass us by, and soon I drift off to sleep.
“Hey girlie.” I hear Meela call out to me. “Wake up, we’re here.”
I blink my eyes open. Why couldn’t this all have been a bad dream? We make our way into the building, neither of us saying a word. I just want to break down and cry.
“Hi,” I whisper to one of the women at the front desk. “I have an appointment. Zilphia Kensley.”
“ID and insurance card, please.”
“No health insurance. I’m paying with cash,” I say, handing her my driver’s license.
She makes a copy, then gives it back to me along with paperwork to complete. The waiting room is crowded, but we’re able to find seats across from each other. My nerves are shot to shit. I can’t stop my hands from shaking.
The next several hours stretch endlessly—urine and blood tests, an ultrasound, and finally a pelvic exam. I mentally check out through it all. I’m five weeks pregnant. That means conception happened the first time Sandman “put the tip in.”
“I’m sorry.” I pull my gaze from the stained carpet. “Can you repeat the question?”
Maggie, the office counselor, regards me with kind eyes from across her desk. “Are you here of your own free will?”
“Yes,” I mumble past numb lips.
She jots down my response, then moves on to the next question. “Have you considered other options?”
“There are no other options,” I reply sharply and immediately feel like crap for taking my anger out on her. It’s not her fault I’m here. It’s his.
“There’s adoption—”
“There are no other options,” I repeat, balling my hands into tight fists. “Are these questions necessary?”
“They are.” Maggie leans forward and folds her arms across the desk. “It’s my job to ensure you’re aware of all possible avenues. What birth control methods have you considered post-procedure?”
“I have the pill, but I was already pregnant before I started taking it.” I would’ve taken other precautions had I known pregnancy was possible without full penetration.
Half an hour later, I’m on the exam table with my legs hoisted in the stirrups. A nurse stands beside me, holding my hand for emotional support. Guilt settles heavily in the pit of my stomach.
“You’re going to be okay,” she tells me, offering a friendly smile. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“I’m about to inject numbing medication into your cervix,” the doctor explains. “You’re going to feel a slight pressure.”
I close my eyes and pray I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life.