Fiction: “Coming to Terms”

“You’re cold,” Allan declares as he kisses me on the cheek.

“No I’m not,” I snap, annoyed at how everyone around me seems to sense a change in my demeanor in the past few weeks.

“Yeah.h. You are,” he says as he begins to rub my arms. “The AC must be up too high.”

He still has his jacket on. He hasn’t even put his shopping bags down when he entered the bedroom a few seconds ago. I don’t ask him how recruiting went, since my mind is really elsewhere, nor do I care all that much.

Allan bypasses me and goes straight to the AC to turn it down a notch.

“Good thing I got you some Aleve. I saw you were out.”

He smiles down at me as I lay in the fetal position on our bed facing the TV and dresser across from me.

“And, guess what else I got?” he asks holding up one of the bags.

“What?” I nudge my head a bit to try and see what he’s so proud of.

“You were moaning about how you couldn’t find those carrot cakes you like, so I went to the bakery near the PATH and found ‘em.”

He’s already begun to drop letters from some of his words, I heard that’s one of the first things to go when you’re in the Mid-West.

Allan rubs my head slightly as he goes to put the groceries away.

“You want tea?” he calls out once he’s in the kitchen. I don’t even bother answering. I’m sure he’ll come in with tea whether I say I want some or not. He always has to believe there’s a quick fix to everything and I let him revel in that assumption.

I have been curled up in a ball since I came home from my third doctor’s visit a few hours prior to obtain Misoprostol to complete the abortion process. I was told to insert four tablets into my vagina. And while I’d done the research–thanks to Google–I still cringed at the thought of actually having to place medication into my vagina to end my pregnancy.

“The pills will cause the uterus to contract and expel the fetus, thus causing it to be completely aborted,” my gynecologist haddoctor said as he gestured with his arms, swirling his pen in a circle to replicate the action the pills would take “eating away at my uterine wall.”

I must have had a horrified look on my face: mouth agape, eyes wide, nose scrunched. He, because he added,

“Pretty simple, huh? Women prefer this method because it makes it seem more natural. Like, like a miscarriage.”

I feigned a smile at the word ‘natural’ and nodded as he ushered me with his arms to exam room one.

I rushed to take my clothes off and put on the pink robe they left for me on the examining table. There was no lock on the door and I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. The doctor and his female assistant took a while returning to me, so I just spent the time looking out the window directly in front of me. I didn’t take in the room too much, not that different from any other doctor’s office, including my pediatrician when I was younger. Except that beyond the jar of extra-long cotton swabs and alcohol, there was a diagram of the woman’s uterus instead of familiar cartoon characters.

When the assistant came in, my doctor trailing behind her, she was pushing something that looked like a telegraph machine that included an instrument attached that looked like a shaft, which she squeezed gel onto the tip of. I was instructed to lay back, shift my buttocks to the very end of the table and spread my legs open. Once I did the doctor slowly slid the shaft inside of me; I was correct in the assumption that it would feel cold.

I opted not to look at the ultrasound, but out of the corner of my eye I saw something small growing at the base of the semi-circle on the all black screen. The doctorMy gynecologist circled his finger around the spec on the ultrasound he printed out as he conferred with his assistant. I quickly turned my head away as he placed it in my file.

The pain is more intense this time as I feel something pass through me, ultimately landing in my sanitary napkin, creating a brief warm sensation. I clutch at Allan’s arm now that he lay beside me. My head is in his lap as he sits upright on the bed watching basketball.

“Aw, Baby, are the cramps that bad?”

“Yes,” I mutter as a tear slides down my cheek landing onto his white Polo shirt.

“You want the Aleve?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” I force myself to endure this pain, as if the ongoing cramps hopefully so that I will embed it it into my mind toso that I’ll never make such a stupid mistake again. Another cramp passes. The shot of pain I feel right near my bladder is worse then any pre-menstrual pains I’ve ever had. Yet, when I gather the courage to go to the bathroom and check, the bleeding does not look that heavy. The pamphlet said I should worry if the blood flow is too heavy from hour to hour. I’ve been quoting the pamphlet a lot lately, ever since I received it two days ago.

“You don’t have to feel this way,” Allan insists.

“I’ll be fine,” I repeat through clenched teeth.

Channel seven goes into commercials during a time out called by the home team, the Nets. The ads showshows previews of the nightly news that will to begin right after the game. Liz Cho appears on the screen briefly to speak of a rape that happened in the New York City subway system and a child that was accidentally run over in Camden whose hit and run driver is still out there, somewhere. Figures, I think to myself, there goes the media scaring the crap out of me as usual. I clench my stomach as I ride out another bout of pain in that area.

“Who would want to raise a child in this world?” I ask, not meaning for Allan to respond.

He does anyway, “That’s why I want to protect it.” He rubs my arm again, slowly this time as if trying to assure me his commitment to his country is the best thing that he can offer anyone. I disagree and roll my eyes in disagreement.

Upon Allan’s return three weeks ago he’d found things just as they had been when he’d left. The bookcase Iu was supposed to have my friends help me assemble was still a bunch of wooden boards on the floor. The accompanying, the screws were still secure in their unopened plastic baggies.

“Why didn’t you take care of this while I was gone?” he seemed kind of angry that it wasn’t done and slammed his duffle bag on the floor as soon as he entered the apartment and saw the pile.

“I dunno. I’ve been busy,” I lied.

He shook his head, upon entering the kitchen later on to get a spoon for his coffee he noticed that the drawer he wanted me to have the landlord fix was still wobbly when pulled it out to get silverware.

“This too!” he shouted.

Even though he may have been irritated he made sure to do all the house work that I’d left. I couldn’t be bothered to try and regrout the tub, put plastic around the windows to insulate the heat during winter or to put up the bookcase we purchased prior to his departure tenseveral months ago. I know, I could have attempted to do these things myself. But it made me feel better knowing that Allan would return to take care of me.

Allan had asked me why I didn’t have my friend (his acquaintance) Grayson come over; he always admired how handy he seemed to be. During one of Gray’s many stints of employment he was in construction. I simply stated that I couldn’t get a hold of Gray, which was only partially a lie.

My stomach rumbles, I breathe a bit deeper and As this tends to happen on occasion, my thoughts flash back to the night of conception. RyanGray called me to see if I could give him a ride to his friend’sour mutual friends house soon after I logged off my computer.. I agreed since I’d made the decision on the spot to attend this party and get as loaded as possible. Me staying at home would have just catered to my irritation and bouts of loneliness. Everything on TV would remind me of Allan, no matter how unrelated it may have seemed. A simple Tide commercial would have sent a maternal shiver down my spine instilling in me an urgea want to do a load of our laundry. I was already teetering on weird because since I refused to wash Allan’s clothes since his last visit home fourthree months ago. Then because then I’d have to put them away; out of sight, out of mind. I can’t really explain why, but just passing the bag of dirty and/or funky clothes to be washed in the corner next to our walk-in closet to see a pair of his Joe Boxers or a leg of his Chino khakis hanging out at one side of the hamper madebad would make me feel just a little better. It would confirm the fact that he was still a presence in our place. I just needed to be reminded of that every so often, especially when I wake up alone, not hearing his soft snores next to me.

I sat in a corner for the majority of the party–actually it was that was just a bunch of people crashing a friend of a friend’s home–in a nice, plush, reclining chair with only a few scratches from the puppy that hid from intruders. The lines from Allan’s an e-mail I had read earlier that day kept running through my mind. As soon as I read the greeting: “Baby, I’m sorry…” I knew I was in for an unwelcome surprise. Allan never eases into good or bad news. I skimmed the rest of his message, reading the essential parts: tour of duty pushed back, return in three weeks, miss & love you, tell Mom I love her & to expect a letter. It consistently seemed like a situation straight out of Catch-22 when it came to him returning home. As long as he was complacent, one week became three, three became five, and so on and so on.

I wasn’t under the influence of alcohol that night, only vulnerability with a twist of frustration. As RyanGray looked at me slumped in the reclining chair, a half empty bottle of Corona in my lap, he seemed like a real good catch at the time.

“I know you’re down and all,” RyanGray wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand after chugging his beer, “But I gotta tell you, you look beautiful and I’m not just saying that because I’m attracted to you. You look real nice.”

It was one of the few moments when RyanGray knew exactly what to say so I kissed him right then and there. It had because it’d been fourseveral months since I heard anyone say that I was beautiful as I searchedto me while looking into their eyes to see ifknow they meant it.

A few    Most of the guests there knew Allan and I are a couple. I didn’t care, nor did I acknowledge their disapproving looks if they saw RyanGray and I sneak into a room together. RyanGray’sRyan’s response to my kiss was sensual and he tasted like Corona as well. I pulled away from our kiss to see him with his eyes closed. Taking his arm I urged him to a private room. RyanGray wanted me as much as I wanted someone to want me in that moment. The thought of Allan popped into my head as Gray and I continued to kiss, I quickly pushed him to the side, silently cursing him as I began to bite at Gray’s lip and pull him towards the room.

We kicked away beer bottles as we found a room with a functioning bed. It was pitch black in the bedroom: we were unable to locate one another without reaching out to find a random body part. I didn’t have to see what I was going to let happen. That made it a lot easier. We sectioned ourselves off away from all the guests who’d been nursing a beer or Smirnoff Ice for hours, away from the potheads huddled around their bong in a corner. Next thing I knew we both landed on the bed, undressing ourselves. At first, onceOnce we were both naked and I was on top of him he couldn’t locate my vagina with his penis at first.

“Wrong hole,” I cried, annoyed at the pressure being placed towards my anus.

I recall me, lying on my stomach, buttocks high in the air awaiting his entry. He wasHim, arched over me as he penetrated. His pacing increased so that the whole act lasted no more than six minutes, I’m sure. He collapsed beside me, I lowered my backside.

“You came?” I asked.

Perhaps he nodded his answer in the dark because he remained silent for a while before he declared, “You’re pregnant. I’m sure of it. My sperm is strong as all hell.”

“No I’m not,” I insisted as I cuddled up to my pillow feeling his stickiness between my legs.

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us,” RyanGray declared amidst several minutes of silence.

I didn’t say anything so he continued.

“I mean I totally respect Allan and I can’t help that you’re an attractive woman. And I’ve been in the friend zone for what…three years? It’s almost like a dream come true in a way…almost.”

“Thanks,” I managed to say. I really wanted him to just be quiet. I wasn’t ready to acknowledge what just happened. He wrapped his free arm around me, urging me closer to his body. My head found his chest and it began to rise and fall with his breathing.

“I hope you’re not mad at me,” he paused, “Even though you’d have every right to be.”

I shifted in bed then raised the covers over my exposed breasts. I don’t know why I wanted to cover myself, it wasn’t like he could see my body, although he did squeeze at certain parts of my thighs and my stomach that was bloated and full of beer.

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” I replied.

“Yea, I mean, just…don’t tell Allan, okay?” It almost sounded like a plea.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

RyanGray’s free hand found my face and brought it close to his for a kiss. His kisses were more arousing than our consummation. I was, but somewhat content that at least he was able to slightly arouse me and take my mind off things for the moment..

Had Allan not lost his job at Rite Aid a year ago, we’d be living together just like we planned before a number of their stores closed down in Jersey City. He couldn’t get another Assistant Manager position quick enough before recruiters saw him at Newport Centre and worked their magic on his impressionable, twenty-five year old mind.

The day Allan announced he’d joined the Reserve I smacked him right in the face. He came in with a somber look on his face and I’d known he did something stupid before he uttered the words, “Baby, don’t be mad…” The sound my hand made was loud and the sting in my hand was more than I expected. His retaliation was to hold my arms and kiss me on the forehead as I went into hysterics. He’d mentioned it here and there, but nothing definite. Even though he was going into training and not being shipped off to war, I felt like I had lost him. He wasn’t mine anymore, we weren’t a couple. He was now the property of some larger entity that had him at their beck and call. I concluded it would never be like old times when I could call him on a whim to pick up some tampons or ask for a ride home when I’d been too buzzed. He’d be his attentive self and just do as I asked because he loved me enough to do so. As I cried and screamed and spat at him he calmly regurgitated the same stuff they told him. He no longer sounded like himself. That’s when I knew he wasn’t going to change his mind. He’s stubborn that way.

“Baby, no matter where I am. You’re it for me. This is what I need to do to stabilize us both. You understand, right?” he urged.

My agreement to his decision was officially the first time I lied to him. I tolerate his absence because having him around in theory is easier than just breaking things off. I figure I’d make due until training was over and I could hear his gurgling sounds beside me every night. I’m too comfortable to attempt to really be without him.

If all had stayed the way it was just a year ago, I would have had sex with Allan in that dark room that night and perhaps have become pregnant with his child instead.

It’s over now, everything being said and done. It’ll be official in a week when I make my fourth trip to the doctor just to make sure. There was no way that I could go to term with this child. Not his. To be honest, I don’t know why I didn’t stop Gray. I figured he’d had condoms in his bag, but thought it would be common knowledge to both of us to stop, making sure that he had the small piece of latex covering his genitals, retaining his sperm. I didn’t stop him because I just didn’t want to think. I just wanted him inside of me because I thought it’d make me feel better. Though, it was amazing how quickly feelings shifted after everything was said and done.

A chill that increases to a sort of sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach at the actions that took place seems to rise in me everyday. That feeling lead to what I had to do to resolve the problem. Ultimately, I end up pushing this feeling deep down so that I can focus on other things and not always be so distant when Allan tries to talk to me. I try not to think of that dark room or the way my body tingled when I felt a man’s touch again. It didn’t matter because I could mold the situation into whatever I wanted when I looked back on it and then I could come to terms with it (if I wanted to) later on.

When I see mothers on the Path or subway trains with their babies and toddlers I truly believe that it just isn’t the right time for me to have a child and that this termination is the right thing. Of course hormones, guilt, or an internal maternal feeling begin to irk me and I admire the child’s tiny hands, the high pitch and innocenceinnocent in their voice when they cry for their mother, and what really gets me is those smiles that they have at the smallest thing. Just the idea of clapping hands is enough to entertain this child for hours. This feeling always goes away though, especially when Allan is not around and I come to terms with our situation.

“Ow,” I whisper. There seems to be a pounding around my stomach area, a constant throbbing that has just occurred.

Allan gives my body a slight squeeze, his focus is divided between me and the NBA Eastern Conference Finals.

“Aw, Baby, it’ll be okay. Your period is almost over. I’m glad it finally came too, I was getting worried.” He leans over to kiss me on my temple. “And we’ll be able to make love before I have to go back to camp.”

“I’m gonna miss you.” And here the tears begin to flow again in succession this time. I’m so tired of crying. I’ve been weeping steady at least once every other day. It’s come to the point where even the alarm clock can initiate my tears. Allan must think I’m crazy for starting the day with tears at the sound of that annoying buzzer. I always try to hide it, but on occasion Allan has also caught me in the shower sobbing when he’s come in to use the toilet. Hearing my muffled sobs he’d slide the shower door over and ask if I was okay.

“I’m just so happy you’re home,” I’d always say. This usually made him feel better in a way and he’d kiss me lightly on various parts of my body, licking at the water which glided down my skin, he even caught the taste of some Ivory soap I’d lathered on myself. I’d lean into him and just as quickly my body would want to become aroused by him, to make love to him, which was long overdue. Instead I kept crying and pushed him away.

“I love you,” was my only reply as I shut the door back in place.

“I know these past three weeks have basically flown by and that you haven’t been feeling too well, but I promise I’ll be back in no time.” He lifts my chin up to face him. I stare up at him in his elevated position as he sits up against the headboard.

“But before I leave I’ll show you how much I love you. I know you’ve been so lonely with me gone.”

I force my chin down so I don’t have to take in his loving gaze, those big, soft eyes, that wide, toothy grin of his. He’s right, about me being lonely.I have been. My heart races, I feel horrible, sort of nauseous too. My body heat rises and my underarms become moist. I’m hoping, pleading with a higher power for this bleeding to end before Allan departs.

There are a few minutes during the day, today especially, when I wonder what the father of this child is doing. More than likely RyanGray is fucking someone else with no problems whatsoever, I’m sure. I didn’t need to consult him on the abortion matter because the bulk of his time and money is spent on cigarettes, beer, and video games,. His time is dedicated to smoking, drinking, video games and sex, but not necessarily in that order. RyanGray is nonchalant about things especially relationships, goes to his bartending job, and has a revolving door of women in his life, and he never says ‘god bless you’ when you sneeze. And while these things didn’t bother me when we were just friends with a mutual attraction for one another, these aspects of his personality annoyed the hell out of me when it was made official that I was pregnant.

“I just wish it was all over,” I blurt out, unsure of what exactly I mean. Allan’s basic training, the abortion, and having to return to my production assistantsocial work job in less than twenty-four hours, all of this invades my mind.

“Yeah, me too. The Nets are getting massacred,” Allan replies completely oblivious of what I mean as well.

When he returned my revelation was on my lips to admit to him. The truth never made it to the surface though. Instead, it was superceded by silence. Allan concluded that I’m emotional just as he deemed I was when he informed me about joining the Reserve. As soon as I saw him a part of me figured that I should tell him. My defense would be that I didn’t have to confer with him on who I slept with because he didn’t feel the need to ask me about donating his body to his country. I held back and conceded as I whispered my apologies to him while he was asleep. It lightened the load a bit to say ‘I’m sorry’ in his presence.

It seems with every passing cramp that things are going to get better, yet that chill still overtakes me when I look at him and as he returns my gaze with an air kiss.

Copyright: Jennifer Baker (Jennifer Baker-Henry) 2006