“What’s done is done. There is no reason to rehash what might have been or what you did or what I did. We’ve both moved on.”
“No, Jack, you don’t understand.” I look down at my hands as the tears begin to fall.
When he realizes that I am crying, he reaches for my hands, which are folded and intertwined with each other on the table. “Amanda, what is it?”
The concern in his voice breaks my heart; it tells me he still cares about me. I will never understand why. But I also know that he will never forgive me if I go on.If I don’t say anything, he will never find out. He really doesn’t need to know, does he?And then the hard voice of reason speaks to me and tells me what I already know.You have to do this if you ever want to move on and live your life. You will never be happy if you don’t. And the voice is absolutely right.
“Jack, about a month after I got to New York, I found out that I was pregnant.”
He shakes his head. “Why are you telling me this, Amanda? You had left me. Do you really think that I expected you to be faithful to me?”
“You don’t understand. I hadn’t been with anyone after you for a very long time.” I grin ruefully and say, “Actually, it was about a year ago, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make.”
When the realization hits him, his eyes shine with eager brightness. His smile is heartbreaking. Beaming, he says, “Are you telling me that I have a son … or a daughter? Amanda, do we?”
I can’t stop crying. My heart broke when I killed my child and now it is breaking all over again as I’m about to tell its father that I killed him or her. How do I tell him that I have no idea if it was a boy or a girl? How do I tell him that I don’t know who it looked like, or if it was a good baby or fussy? I will never know because I didn’t have the courage to fight for my child.
Finally I say, “No, Jack, we don’t.”
He looks confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Jack, my state of mind at the time, it was off the charts. I …”
He doesn’t let me finish and interrupts, “Oh God, Amanda … tell me you didn’t.”
I’m so ashamed. I can’t look at him. I can’t even respond. My silence is confirmation of his worst fear, and he says, “God damn you, Amanda. How could you?”
I still can’t respond. I have no words, because nothing can tell him why I did what I did and nothing can describe to him how I feel. No words can even begin to touch the surface of my heartbreak.
“I can’t even look at you,” he says and then he gets up from the booth. He throws some money down on the table and then turns and walks toward the door. When he gets to the door he glances back at me and shakes his head in disgust. Turning back, he opens the door and leaves.
It’s done. I really thought it would make me feel better once I told him, but I don’t feel any better. Actually, I feel much worse.Will this ache ever go away?Every time I think about the abortion the memories make my heart ache. I relive that pain over and over again.Will it ever stop?
