needle … and then everything had gone black and fuzzy.
Lainey lifted her head and glanced around. She was still there, in the clinic, in the same exam room she’d been in when she met with the doctor. She was also still wearing the paper gown, although someone had laid a scratchy yellow blanket over her.
Lainey felt a tightness on her arm. She looked and saw there was a Band-Aid there, holding down a cotton ball. She picked at the Band-Aid, but it stuck to her arm hair. There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Lainey said.
The door opened, and a middle-aged woman with a kind face and short dark hair speckled with gray came in.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asked her. “I’m Rosemary. The nurse had to go see another patient, but she asked me to keep an eye on you. Should I call her back?”
“I’m fine,” Lainey said, not entirely truthfully. She was still pretty woozy. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” Rosemary said. When she smiled at Lainey, the edges of her eyes and mouth creased up like the folds of a fan. “You don’t have to get up right away. Feel free to lie there as long as you want.”
“It’s okay,” Lainey said, swinging her legs off the cot and sitting upright. “You’re not a nurse?”
“No, I’m a volunteer counselor.”
“Are you here to counsel me?” Lainey asked. Her chin lifted defiantly, as though daring Rosemary to try.
“If you want to talk, I’d be happy to listen,” Rosemary said. She gestured toward a task chair that was floating adrift in the middle of the exam room. Lainey shrugged. Rosemary seemed totake this as acquiescence and sat down, resting both feet flat on the floor and folding her hands in her lap.
“Look. I’ll just tell you up front: I want to have an abortion. You’re not going to talk me out of it,” Lainey said.
Rosemary looked surprised. “I’m not here to talk you out of anything. I support every woman’s right to make choices about her reproductive health.”
“Oh,” Lainey said, her indignation deflating. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
Rosemary smiled. “It doesn’t work that way. I’m here to listen, if you’d like to talk.”
Lainey shrugged again. “There’s no point.”
Rosemary nodded, but didn’t say anything. Lainey waited for some sort of reaction, and when none was forthcoming, she began to talk again, just to fill the silence.
“I don’t want kids. I definitely don’t want one now, and maybe not ever. And besides, my boyfriend is sort of a jerk. He wasn’t always, but lately …” Lainey trailed off. She was pissed at Trav, but even so, she didn’t want to get him in trouble for his illegal steroid use. She picked at the Band-Aid, but it stayed firmly in place.
Rosemary nodded. “Have you discussed your decision with your boyfriend?”
“Yeah. Trust me, this is what he wants, too.”
Not that his opinion counts for anything
, she silently added. She wrapped her arms around herself, pressing them tightly across her stomach. Then, wondering if that would bother the baby, she released them.
Was the baby big enough to feel something like that?
she wondered. It was a weird thought—that pressing her own arms over her own stomach would affect someone else. No, that was stupid. The baby was probably too small to feel anything.
“Do you have a good support system?” Rosemary asked. Lainey must have looked confused, because she added, “Your mother, a sister, a close friend?”
Lainey made an irritated sound in her throat. She didn’t needa support system; she needed an abortion and a bus ticket to L.A. “Look, just so you know, I don’t really do this.”
“Do what?”
“The touchy-feely, talking-about-my-feelings crap.”
Rosemary laughed. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
Lainey stood, wanting to change out of the paper gown and into her real clothes, and then to get the hell out of there. “I should get going. Am I all done here?”
“The nurse
Lainey lifted her head and glanced around. She was still there, in the clinic, in the same exam room she’d been in when she met with the doctor. She was also still wearing the paper gown, although someone had laid a scratchy yellow blanket over her.
Lainey felt a tightness on her arm. She looked and saw there was a Band-Aid there, holding down a cotton ball. She picked at the Band-Aid, but it stuck to her arm hair. There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Lainey said.
The door opened, and a middle-aged woman with a kind face and short dark hair speckled with gray came in.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asked her. “I’m Rosemary. The nurse had to go see another patient, but she asked me to keep an eye on you. Should I call her back?”
“I’m fine,” Lainey said, not entirely truthfully. She was still pretty woozy. “What happened?”
“You fainted,” Rosemary said. When she smiled at Lainey, the edges of her eyes and mouth creased up like the folds of a fan. “You don’t have to get up right away. Feel free to lie there as long as you want.”
“It’s okay,” Lainey said, swinging her legs off the cot and sitting upright. “You’re not a nurse?”
“No, I’m a volunteer counselor.”
“Are you here to counsel me?” Lainey asked. Her chin lifted defiantly, as though daring Rosemary to try.
“If you want to talk, I’d be happy to listen,” Rosemary said. She gestured toward a task chair that was floating adrift in the middle of the exam room. Lainey shrugged. Rosemary seemed totake this as acquiescence and sat down, resting both feet flat on the floor and folding her hands in her lap.
“Look. I’ll just tell you up front: I want to have an abortion. You’re not going to talk me out of it,” Lainey said.
Rosemary looked surprised. “I’m not here to talk you out of anything. I support every woman’s right to make choices about her reproductive health.”
“Oh,” Lainey said, her indignation deflating. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
Rosemary smiled. “It doesn’t work that way. I’m here to listen, if you’d like to talk.”
Lainey shrugged again. “There’s no point.”
Rosemary nodded, but didn’t say anything. Lainey waited for some sort of reaction, and when none was forthcoming, she began to talk again, just to fill the silence.
“I don’t want kids. I definitely don’t want one now, and maybe not ever. And besides, my boyfriend is sort of a jerk. He wasn’t always, but lately …” Lainey trailed off. She was pissed at Trav, but even so, she didn’t want to get him in trouble for his illegal steroid use. She picked at the Band-Aid, but it stayed firmly in place.
Rosemary nodded. “Have you discussed your decision with your boyfriend?”
“Yeah. Trust me, this is what he wants, too.”
Not that his opinion counts for anything
, she silently added. She wrapped her arms around herself, pressing them tightly across her stomach. Then, wondering if that would bother the baby, she released them.
Was the baby big enough to feel something like that?
she wondered. It was a weird thought—that pressing her own arms over her own stomach would affect someone else. No, that was stupid. The baby was probably too small to feel anything.
“Do you have a good support system?” Rosemary asked. Lainey must have looked confused, because she added, “Your mother, a sister, a close friend?”
Lainey made an irritated sound in her throat. She didn’t needa support system; she needed an abortion and a bus ticket to L.A. “Look, just so you know, I don’t really do this.”
“Do what?”
“The touchy-feely, talking-about-my-feelings crap.”
Rosemary laughed. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
Lainey stood, wanting to change out of the paper gown and into her real clothes, and then to get the hell out of there. “I should get going. Am I all done here?”
“The nurse
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