*
*
The room is cold.
The furnishings are sparse and austere, from the grey sofa and matching chair to the iron lamps and glass-topped metal side tables. There’s no wall art and only a few decorations are found in the waiting room. Blank walls stare back at me. I actually prefer it this way. White conveys no emotion. I’m only here because of logic and logic alone will get me through the next few hours. This is, by no means, a ‘spur of the moment’ decision. I have put a lot of thought on what I’m about to do and I think it’s the only choice I have.
I approach the front desk and say, “I umm…have an appointment.”
Without lifting her eyes from the computer the woman sitting behind the desk says, “Name?”
“P-Pamela Beesly.”
She types diligently on the computer’s keyboard and says, “Are you here for a termination?”
I nod. “Y-Yes.”
She then gives me a few forms to fill out and I do it pragmatically, only giving myself a fraction of a second to answer the questions.
Diabetes? No.
Heart Disease? No.
Epilepsy? No.
Glaucoma? No.
Prescription medication? No.
Before I know it, all forms are filled out and signed. When I am about to hand her the forms back, a girl, about my age, walks out from a back room, red eyed, clutching her bag tightly against her chest. She doesn’t utter a single word and she doesn’t’ have too. The nurse who greets her on the other side of the door asks her how she’s feeling. Without meeting anyone’s gaze, the girl says, “Empty.”
The woman at the front desk gives her a tight lip smile and turns to me. “All set?”
“Umm… I-I think so,” I tell her.
She looks over the forms, front and back, and says, “The doctor will call you in soon.”
“Thanks,” I tell her.
I shuffle back to the couch on the waiting room and I sit there. The girl who came out moments before is sitting across from me. She’s still clutching her bag as if her life depended on it. A nurse walks up to her and tells her something unintelligible. She nods and for a fraction of a second she looks up and our eyes meet. I immediately feel self-conscious and look away. I focus on the white walls. Blank slate. Fresh start. New beginnings…
My stomach rumbles, but I don’t give it too much thought. I lean back in my seat, put my head back against the white wall and I stare up at the dull, fluorescent lights on the ceiling. I don’t want to think about anything at the moment. My phone vibrates in my purse and I’m a bit reluctant to answer it. But I pull it out anyways and see a text from Jim.
“Where r u? Everything ok?”
I reply with, “Call u in a few.”
It doesn’t take him long to answer, “@ work. Text.”
I put my phone away just as a nurse calls my name. “Pamela Beesly?”
Her voice is void of any emotion. It is as if she works at the DMV and I was the next in line. I put my bag over my shoulder and stand.
“Follow me this way, please.” She half smiles and I reciprocate the gesture.
She brings me to a room, which is just as white as the others. She gestures for me to have a seat.
“The doctor will be right with you.” She leaves and shuts the door behind her.
This is not an examination room. This is someone’s office space. There’s a desk, a computer, and picture frames that face away from me. Two diplomas and a few certificates hang on the wall. There’s a plant in the corner and while it looks fake, there are a few browning leaves sprinkled on the carpet around it.
The door opens and an older man, wearing a white coat, enters the room. The name, Dr. Ross, is printing just over the right side pocket.
“Hi,” he says extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Ross. And you must be Pamela,” he says.
I nod.
He walks around to his desk and sits behind it. He leafs through some papers in front of him while humming to himself. I begin to feel flustered and thoughts I’d been avoiding all morning begin to slowly surface. Although abortion is frequently talked about, no details are given about what actually happens. Even online, where I expected to find all the gory details, there was a sort of void between the moment someone finds out they are pregnant and the moment it’s all over.
Dr. Ross links his fingers in front of him and asks, “Have you given thought to other options?”
“I have,” I say. Self-assured. “This is just the most logic way to go about this situation.”
“I know you’re 17 and you don’t need parental consent, but do your parents support you on this decision?”
“They don’t know and I would like it to keep it that way,” I tell him.
“I always encourage patients undergoing an abortion to have a support system with them. Do you want to reconsider your decision?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Okay, okay. So you are 10 weeks along?” He pulls an ultrasound from my first appointment. I look away.
“Yes.”
“You might be a little further down,” he affirms, further inspecting the black and white picture. “I might need to measure the little one again.”
Little one.
I suddenly feel nauseated. My palms begin to sweat and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I want to run, but I am paralyzed by…by what? Logic? Am I making the right decision?
“I need to make sure we chose the correct method of termination before we proceeded.”
I nod, trying to stay out of my own head.
Dr. Ross ushers me to an examination room. I begin sweating. I quickly pull out my phone from my purse and text Jim the address to the clinic and ask him to come. He said he would support me with any decision and I can’t go back. I just...can’t. He texts back a question mark and I just tell him to meet me here. I place my phone back in my bag and sit on the uncomfortable examination bed.
I try to focus on the relief I’ll feel once this is all over, but for some reason I can’t. So instead I try to think of how my life would suddenly right itself again. It would be as if I had missed an important turn along the way and my inner GPS was telling to do and U-turn and go back to the previous route - the route where I graduated High School with my friends, went away to College, and earned a degree. I don’t want a detour.
Moments later the doctor enters the room wheeling an ultrasound machine. He asks me to lie down and pulls my shirt up, exposing my lower belly. He squeezes a warm gel on it and with a wand he begins to rub over my stomach. I turn away. I don’t want to see it. A nurse enters the room and they begin to utter unintelligible medical jargon about whatever is on screen. I need to focus. I can’t think about this. I’ve gone through this in my head thousands of times. This is the best solution to this situation. It’s only logical.
As I’m focusing on the medical posters on the wall, the unexpected happens. I hear a sound.
Thud Dump. Thud Dump. Thud Dump. Thud Dump.
The beat is fast paced and although I can feel my heart racing, the pounding seems too rapid to be my own heart.
“W-what’s that?” I ask, barely in control of my emotions.
“That’s the baby’s heartbeat,” the nurse tells me.
When her words register in my head, I hear the shattering stroke of my own heart because the fast thumping sounds vibrating through my ears is more than I can handle. Each strong beat feels like a punch in my gut. I look over the monitor and I see it. The head. Little arms. Legs. I see it. I see my baby.
“I ummm…I-I think I need to um….go,” I tell the doctor. My voice is on the edge of breaking. “I c-can’t be here… ” I begin sitting up. Although the wand is no longer pressing against my abdomen, I can still hear the beating in my ears. It is still fast and steady. Thud Dump. Thud Dump. Thud Dump. The sound becomes deafening, I can no longer hear the doctor’s words over the sound of the baby’s heart in my head.
I look at the Doctor and he puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “I’ll give you some privacy.” He leaves the room and the nurse follows, wheeling the ultrasound machine behind him. I wipe the gel from my belly and I burst into tears. I need to leave. This feels wrong. The heart is beating.
I walk down the hall and I don’t stop to talk to anyone. I open the door to the waiting room and the woman at the front desk utters something which I can’t understand. I don’t stop. When I’m outside I see Jim’s gray car pulling into the parking lot. As soon as he sees me, he stops, jumps out of the car, and runs in my direction. He doesn’t ask or say anything; he just pulls me into his arms.
I sob almost hysterically on his shirt. I can barely form words between each sob.
“Pam? Pam? What is going on?” I can sense him looking around, trying to conjure an explanation as to why I’m here and hysterically crying. “Pam….”
“I-I,” I stutter.
Jim cups my cheeks and forces me to look up at him. When my eyes lock with his I see a shiny film covering his eyes. “What is this place, Pam? What happened?”
I see him reading the sign at the front of the clinic. The cogs in his head begin to turn - turning, turning, and turning…until he finally gets it. He pulls away slightly, looks at me from head to toe and pulls me in a tight hug. “Oh, Pam,” he says. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t,” I say. “The h-heart, Jim…It w-was b-beating…it’s beating.”
“Y-You didn’t?”
I shake my head.
Jim exhales and kisses my hair. He doesn’t say or ask anything more. He just keeps his arms around me.
Making that U-turn suddenly doesn’t feel right any longer. I know that stopping that little heart from beating will eventually prevent my own heart from doing the same. My inner GPS is currently recalculating and it scares me. I will try to do what I can to make sure I don’t deviate from my final destination, even if I have to take a different route. Even if I have to render this little heart inside me to better parents that won’t try to hurt it like I almost did.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading. I'm thinking of ending it here, unless you guys want me to continue.
ps. I'm loving JAM on the show right now. I personally am looking foward to when they kiss and make up on the show.
ps. I'm loving JAM on the show right now. I personally am looking foward to when they kiss and make up on the show.
