“Ah. Here you are.” Vonita checked her in and handed her a clipboard. “Just fill out this form for me, and we’ll get you in as soon as possible.”
Wren sat across from the television. She scribbled down her information—the usual stuff—name, address, age, allergies.
Beside her, Aunt Bex was going through the little goodie bag Wren had been handed by the protester. Smarties. ChapStick. A pair of tiny blue knit booties. “Well, those are sweet,” Bex said.
She dug out hand sanitizer, breath mints, and two small soaps.
“Maybe they think we’re all dirty,” Wren said. She plucked the flyer from the little bag and began to read:Please don’t rush into this decision.Abortion is FOREVER.
If you are in an abortion center right now, you can just leave. You don’t have to tell anyone. If you’ve already paid, we can help you get your money back.
Wren opened the pamphlet. There were pictures of gummy, bright-eyed babies.
Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.–God
“You think that’s a direct quote?” Bex asked, reading over her shoulder.
Wren stifled a laugh. “My history teacher would not accept that citation.”
On the back panel was a list of the alleged consequences of chemical and surgical abortion:
perforated uterus, chronic and acute infections, intense pain, excessive bleeding requiring transfusion, risk of future miscarriages, infertility, cancer, death.
Feelings of guilt, anger, helplessness. Mental breakdown. Depression, nightmares, and flashbacks. Inability to feel joy about life. Feeling of separation from God. Fear of not being forgiven. Alienation from family and friends. Loss of relationship with boyfriend or spouse. Promiscuity. Drug abuse. Suicide.
It reminded Wren of those ads on television for antidepressants.Yeah, we’ll stop those mood troughs, but you might wind up incontinent, with high blood pressure, with increased suicidal tendencies, or, hey, dead.
Wren looked at the bold type at the bottom.YOU ARE NOT ALONE. WE CARE ABOUT YOU!
Suddenly she remembered where she had seen that redheaded woman. She was the parent of a ninth grader, and she had raised holy hell over a unit in health class where they studied contraceptive options. The day Wren had to roll a condom onto a banana, the woman had barged into the room, spewing craziness about impressionable minds and God and the rhythm method. Wren had felt bad for her son, who was moved to the library during health from then on.
Wren shook her head, now that she realized that this woman who was anti-contraception was also anti-abortion. Wasn’t that counterintuitive? If you didn’t want abortions, shouldn’t you at least be throwing free condoms and birth control pills out to anyone who would take them? Shouldn’t that woman have beencheeringfor Wren to come to the Center and get the Pill, instead of berating her?
Wren looked down at the pamphlet again.WE CARE ABOUT YOU!
Or not.
She walked across the room and tossed it into the trash.
—
“DADDY,” BETH CRIED.“DADDY?”
Frustration foamed in her father’s wake, but he didn’t look back as he left. He nearly mowed down the nurse, hurrying to get away from her.
Away from what she had done.
Jayla peered at her. “You okay?” she asked gently.
Beth shook her head, unable to speak.
The nurse sat down on the edge of Beth’s bed. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said, “but it’s pretty hard when the door’s wide open.” She hesitated. “This isn’t my usual floor, you know. I work on the ortho floor, but I’m covering for a colleague who needed a personal day. So I’m not sure what the protocol is here.”
Beth wiped her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Well, in ortho, if I found out my patient is an intravenous drug user or has some other history she didn’t disclose to the doctors, I’d tell my supervisor. It could be a matter of life or death. What I’m trying to say is that you really do need to tell me the truth.” She looked at Beth. “So,” she said, “which is it?”
Beth blinked at her. She felt the walls pressing in.
