“I knew you’d see it my way.” Rysa grinned and angled her head toward the living room. “Want to move over there?”
“Dear goodness, yes.” Her cheeks warmed when her reply came out more emphatic than she’d meant. “I’m barely into this pregnancy and have already decided the recliner is my favorite spot other than the bed. I like my dining room set, but let’s face it, wooden chairs don’t scream comfort the way a recliner does.”
“I hear you. My table rarely gets used unless I have guests, and even that’s questionable.” Rysa stood and gathered their trash. “Do you want me to save any of yours?”
“All that’s left is a few bites of rice. Not enough to make a meal or side out of.” She pushed back from the table then went to the kitchen. “I’ll put the coffee on now. Do you mind decaf?”
“Fine with me.”
Several minutes later, they sat in the living room with their mugs of coffee. Sybil stretched out her legs on the opened footrest of the recliner, and Rysa sat on the worn, gingham sofa, leaning on the armrest.
Rysa sipped on her coffee, then set the mug on the end table. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.” The answer rolled off her tongue with little thought. Years of giving the expected reply had conditioned her to offer automated responses.
“Hey. This is me. You can tell the truth.”
She exhaled and adjusted her position in the seat. “The truth? I don’t know.”
“Let me guess. You’re scared, doubting your ability to care for a child, torn about your choices, and probably feeling guilty and ashamed. All of which combines to make you feel completely and utterly lost.”
“That about sums it up.” A derisive snort escaped, then she arched a brow. “How did you know?”
“I’ve been there.”
Sybil’s eyes widened before she brought her reaction under control. “What do you mean? When?”
“In college.” Rysa fidgeted, twirled her thumbs. “I’ll tell you my story, but I’d like it to remain between us.”
“My lips are sealed.” She made a zipping motion over her mouth.
“My freshman year of college, I got pregnant by a guy I thought loved me.” Sighing, Rysa wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. Whenever I think how dumb and naïve I was, I get worked up.”
She offered a sympathetic smile that didn’t reach its fullest capacity. “We’ve all been there.”
“When I told him about the baby, he gave me an ultimatum—him or the baby.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I know, but at the time, I wasn’t thinking straight. We argued for weeks until I finally bought into the lies he fed me.” Rysa jumped from the sofa. “Excuse me a minute.”
Rysa ran into the bathroom, leaving a trail of tears and reverberations of her sobs.
When she hadn’t returned in five minutes, Sybil followed her path to the bathroom and knocked on the door. A familiar scene from three weeks ago, but with reversed roles. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.” Rysa opened the door with a tissue in hand. “I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be helping you, not bringing you down.”
“You’re not. In fact, it’s refreshing to have someone be real for once.” She reached behind Rysa and grabbed the box of tissues. “Something tells me we’ll need more of these before the night’s over.”
Sniffles turned into giggles, and Rysa wiped her eyes again. “Smart thinking.”
Back in the living room, Rysa continued her story. “I’d decided to give my baby up for adoption, but that wasn’t good enough for Erich, my boyfriend. He insisted on an abortion.”
“He sounds like a jerk.”
“He was, but I didn’t realize it until too late.” Rysa paused. “I aborted my baby, Sybil. All to keep a man who I found out three months later was married.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her heart ached for Rysa, and no words seemed adequate.
