This is an excerpt from No Guarantees
CHAPTER 38
Lila
“Do you ever regret your abortion?”
I stared into Tonya’s dark eyes as I sought answers. We had been friends for long enough so I could usually read emotion and sometimes
even thoughts through the window of her expressive eyes. We hadn’t covered this
particular subject in such a context before because I had been afraid of
offending her- hurting her more than she had already been hurt. I didn’t want
to cause her pain, and we weren’t surrounded by the support of the playgroup, but
today my need-to-know trumped all else. Her eyes, darker even than usual,
weren’t giving anything away.
At first I thought she wasn’t going to answer me, and I
opened my mouth to take it back. I thought that she was a close enough friend
that we could talk about this honestly, but navigating new waters always runs
the risk of rejection.
One lone tear slowly made passage down her carefully made up
cheek. Because she ducked her head before answering, I almost missed her
whispered response.
“Every day.”
Seeming to gain confidence after a minute, she grabbed both
of my hands, looked through me to I don’t know what and said it again.
“I regret it every day. When I make my morning smoothie, I wonder if that baby would have someday liked protein-enhanced
smoothies as much as I do. When I go to get Charlotte up after a long
night of sleep, I wonder if that baby would have smiled at me as sweetly as
Charlotte does to be up and playing. When I dress Charlotte in her cute little
clothes, I wonder if that other little girl would have loved pretty things as
much as Charlotte and I do. When I watch
Charlotte play with her toys with such happiness and glee, I wonder if that
other baby would have been just as happy to play with toys. Every day I think
about what maybe that baby would be like now. I google pictures of children
with Down syndrome, and I lean in close to those almond shaped eyes and see
life and joy. I wonder if I could have had some of that joy in my life, but I
missed my chance. I regret eliminating it simply because of a defect and
because I was scared. I wanted a baby more than anything. I just didn’t want
one with a diagnosis. But now, every
day I agonizingly wonder- what she would have been like, what she would be
doing, could I have loved her?”
“Do you- do you think you could have?” I asked, desperately
needing to hear her answer.
“At first I was convinced that it would be impossible, but
the more time separates me from the grief, I think maybe yes. I drown in guilt
because I didn’t even giving that baby a chance. I love Charlotte despite her
deepest flaws because she’s mine- and she’s so much like me. I wonder if the
other baby would have been like me at all?”
She paused, took a deliberate sip of her coffee, and
appeared to be holding something back. When we tried poker for entertainment
one playgroup not so long ago, Tonya gave away every hand with the tilt of her
eyebrow and the “I have a secret” smirk of her lips. Today was no exception.
Like so many other times, we were sitting on pristine
furniture, holding large cups of coffee, and speaking fervently to each other about
our concerns and the current chapter of our life drama. But unlike so many
other times, I felt like a different person than the one that used to sit and
argue about vacations and which bag really fit all the baby essentials in it
and whether or not that haircut was a good look for Jennifer Aniston.
I looked down at the mug that my hands were wrapped around.
When we first sat down with our coffee, steam was slowly rising from the cup.
The slight wisps disappeared into room air shortly after leaving the confines
of the pottery-like mug, and I wondered for the first time of my coffee-drinking
career where exactly they went. Is that what it looks like when happiness
departs from your life? You barely see the tiny trails of white mist and then it all disappears before
you can really even try? Before long, you’re standing there holding a cup of
stone cold coffee wondering what happened to the warm brew that you were
counting on soothing your raw throat. Is happiness that fleeting? Was the
coffee sending the steam into room air, or was the room air stealing the steam
from the coffee? And in life does happiness leave you or is it stolen from you?
“Lila”
Startled, I tore my eyes away from my cup of coffee. I
almost forgot that Tonya was still here.
“This is going to sound strange. Please don’t hate me, but I
need to say it.”
My head bobbed in a tight nod of its own accord. I was
afraid what my friend might confess. Is she going to say how sorry she feels
for me? Is her next sentence going to refer to herself as “lucky” because she
had a way out? Bracing myself, I felt as I did when people say “No offense
but…” clearly meaning offense. Her next words surprised me.
“I think you will love him. I wish every day that I could go
back and change my decision, but you’re getting a chance to make it right in a
sense. I know you’re going to think this is weird especially after I told how I
just couldn’t do it, but I think it’s all going to be ok.”
I looked back down at the coffee. The almost-cold coffee
with all of its steam clearly stolen by the room air and thought about how easy
it was for her to say that. That’s one of those statements that very easily
rolls off the tongue even when there’s no experience or proof to make it believable.
But before I could form that into a response, she finished her thought.
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