Chapter 23 Rip Current
Contrary to Saturday’s sunny forecast, it’s fifty degrees and sheeting rain.
There will still be some folks out, I know, but for many protesters their own comfort trumps all else.
Though, I suppose that’s why they’re out here protesting in the first place.
I’m getting wrapped up in my own anger again, but it keeps me warm—along with waterproof snowpants and a windbreaker.
Chicagoans have a very no-nonsense, fashion-blind approach when it comes to weather protection; it’s something I have always loved about the city.
As I approach the clinic, I get a text from Shreya.
hitting the books today!
I lift my gaze to find only a few miserable-looking protesters out in the rain.
Steve is not there—I think this might be an Aurora weekend for him—but one of the regular MRAs is, as are two women huddled under an umbrella, praying the rosary.
I slosh into the clinic and find a bedraggled-looking Dr. Levy standing at the front desk, on the phone.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Diane isn’t in, and she didn’t call out. We’re short-staffed as it is, and this is unlike her. We open in five minutes, and we’re lucky nobody has shown up early.”
“It’s raining really hard, the roads are probably a disaster,” I say.
“She would call. She would text.”
“What’s on the docket for today?” I ask. “I can handle check-in until Diane gets here or we have more information.”
Dr. Levy whirls around to face me. “Why are you so determined to believe it’s not a big deal?”
Because I’m a coward. Because I’m lazy. Because I’d rather accept the easy explanation.
But that’s not really why. “I’m worried,” I say. “We all are worried about each other all the time. But it’s pouring rain, our patients need us, and we’re not going to be a very effective search party with just us two. I’m going to text Diane and her emergency contact, and woman the front desk.”
I can see the moment Dr. Levy pulls herself together. She’s a mom of two children, an attending physician, and a part-time abortionist. She has nerves of steel, despite everything the world is throwing at her. “You’re right,” she says. “It’s just Janey, and…” I reach out and touch her shoulder.
“Things are really bad, huh?” I say. “I can barely get out of bed most days.”
Dr. Levy gives me a small smile. “You could say I’m on edge. Another doctor at the hospital just got served for mailing abortion pills—Louisiana says it’s illegal. It’s never been worse than today, and yet tomorrow will be even worse. I worry about my children, and about all you children.”
All I can think to say is, “After this, you should take a vacation.”
“I’ll take Easter,” she says, and we both laugh.
“Me too!” I say. “Think they can spare us both?”
And then we’re both laughing, clutching each other’s arms and giggling like children. There are tears in my eyes, and hers, too. It’s about a moment away from becoming uncomfortable when the clinic door slams open with the wind. Diane trudges in, followed by Aaron.
“What’s so funny?” Diane asks, squinting at us. “I didn’t know anyone at this clinic could have fun without me.”
Dr. Levy straightens. “Nothing. Just glad to see you, Diane. We were worried about you.”
“Sorry, my dog somehow unplugged my phone last night and I barely had the juice to text Aaron when my car spun out from hydroplaning.”
“We live close enough,” Aaron says with a shrug.
I give him a look. From the personnel files I snooped through, they live at least half an hour apart in weather.
“I picked her up, got a tow truck called. Figured that was more important than being on time. I think we’ll have a couple cancellations, though. ”
“About half of our day is abortions,” Dr. Levy says briskly. “But the other half, maybe. Come on, let’s get ready.”
“Sorry, hon,” Diane says as Dr. Levy gets moving. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’m glad you’re all right,” I say, my throat tightening slightly. “That’s all that matters.”
“Don’t be that glad!” She bustles over to the desk and starts setting up. “Now you’ll have to stand outside all morning.”
I’ve never been happier to escort in the sheeting rain.
I’m less content by the end of the day. I massage my temples as I wait for Aaron to appear—the protesters have given me a headache, setting up megaphones despite the rain.
“THESE WICKED WOMEN HAVE BEEN MISLED BY FEMINISM. THEY THINK THEY ARE SAVING WOMEN, BUT INSTEAD THEY CONSIGN THEM TO A LIFE OF PAIN AND REGRET!”
Because it was a slow day, a few of the protesters approached me to try to start a debate.
“Margaret Sanger believed in eugenics! She would have wanted you to die!”
“Abortion is responsible for millions of missing girls! Imagine if your mom had aborted you for a boy!”
Steve showed up a few hours in, and I thought I saw him roll his eyes at their pitiful attempts.
Only newbies and traveling protesters try to convert escorts.
The true regulars know we’re all Satan’s spawn and lost causes.
Eventually they gave up and I spent the rest of my shift staring at the clinic’s exterior.
The bricks had all turned brown from the rainwater, dark and menacing in the downpour.
There was a sense of foreboding all around the building, but no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, I couldn’t make out what was wrong with it.
During a brief pause in the rain, I even attempted to muddle through a few dance steps in a futile attempt to figure it out.
I only slipped and splattered mud on myself, getting nowhere, gasping in air that was somehow both cold and muggy.
And now, mud-covered and exhausted, I have to confront Aaron.
“We should talk,” I tell him the moment he leaves the clinical wing. He’s clearly happy that I want to speak to him, but he can tell from my tone that it’s not going to be about anything good. “How about we go down to the Riverwalk?”
It’s not the best suggestion, but after the pandemic, I’ve socialized in worse weather.
Aaron drives us both downtown, which is at least part of the way home for me.
The awkward silence almost causes me to break, but I don’t want to have this conversation in a small, enclosed space.
He could be dangerous, but I feel so disarmed by him that it’s hard to believe.
At last we end up at the windy Riverwalk, our feet dangling over the concrete.
Even though I’ve been here a million times, I still think about the engineers who reversed the flow of the river in the middle of the night to prevent downstream cities from obstructing them until it was too late, ending the scourge of waterborne diseases in the city and securing Chicago’s place in the American firmament.
The city of broad shoulders and corruption.
Of course it was that same spirit that led Mayor Daley to order an airport bulldozed in the night, also to avoid his political opponents stopping him, but his covert activities were far less cool.
“You’re thinking about the airport, aren’t you?” Aaron asks, lightly shoving my shoulder. I laugh.
“How did you know?” I ask. My teeth chatter a bit, and I clench my jaw against the cold seeping into my bones.
“You get this funny look…” he says. “You’re such a history nerd!”
“Who wouldn’t want to know the history of the best city in the world?” I reply. I take a fortifying breath, then blurt, “I have something to tell you.”
“Okay.” Aaron looks confused, but doesn’t try to stop me.
I lower my voice. “The patient we saw last week, the one who decided to wait for her abortion because she wanted to find a way to stay employed? She was married, and her husband didn’t know she was there.”
Aaron’s face falls. “Are you worried about abuse?”
I shake my head. “No. They both want kids. She didn’t want to upset him.”
“Oh. That’s her choice, then. All the people we see are in a hard place.”
I swallow. “You’re not… upset? On behalf of her husband?”
“She’s not my partner. It’s not my right to care.”
I take a deep breath. I’ve decided to tell him what happened all those years ago.
If he’s an anti, there’s nothing else I can think of to make him break his cover.
My power is still just dregs, but I should be able to spot traces of demonic interference after eliciting a strong emotional reaction from him.
Hopefully I won’t need to make him forget this.
I don’t know if I would be able to even if I wanted to—I haven’t been able to shake what JJ said about his right to know. “I had an abortion.”
“Oh.”
I can’t read the expression that plays across his face. I focus on looking for evidence of magic, but he looks perfectly normal. Human.
“It was two months after we broke up. It was yours.”
Aaron is silent, and I force myself to keep looking at him, even though it hurts. Something touches my wrist. I flinch, and then I realize Aaron was trying to hold my hand.
“It was the ear infection,” he says. “Right?” I nod.
Of course he would understand immediately—I had been on antibiotics the week before I saw him outside that clinic.
“You tried to text me about it, didn’t you?
I—I’m sorry.” His voice cracks. “I won’t lie, it hurts to hear.
Not because—not because we should have been parents, but I guess I wish I had known.
I’m a little hurt, even though I didn’t have a right to know.
” He’s processing the news in real time, but I can see that whatever suspicions I’ve been clinging to were false.
He’s a good person. I doubted him, but he really has changed. “Are you still angry with me?”
“I was, then. But I’m not anymore. It’s in the past. I haven’t been angry since the day you reappeared. I will admit, though, I have been… suspicious. This season has been particularly hard.”
Aaron looks more hurt at this revelation than at my confession. “I would never…”