Raising Isaiah (No future updates)

Chapter 6

The cold air hit my face as soon as I opened the door of the clinic, Jada fell into step beside me. We ducked our heads against the cold and walked in silence towards her car.

Once I slid in the passenger seat, I was more than grateful to shut out the cold air. I rubbed my freezing fingers together and quietly blew on them. Jada slid in as well, quickly put her key in the ignition and started the engine. She placed the car in drive and placed her hands on the wheel, but she didn't move. Instead she reached back down and placed the car in park. I felt her eyes find my face.

"What happened in there?" she asked me, her voice was soft.

I couldn't meet her eyes; instead I stared out the window and slightly shook my head. "I don't know."

Seconds later I felt her palm on my thigh. "Look at me Symone."

Hesitantly, I peeled my eyes away from the window and found her gaze.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice was cautious.

"Just get me out of here. Please?" I mumbled, pulling my thigh from under her palm and letting it fall on the leather of my seat.

I felt her gaze for a few seconds more before she withdrew her hand and placed the car back in drive. "Okay," she relented, pulling away from the curve and merging into traffic.

I watched my lunch drain down the toilet with disdain.

Gently, I sat back on the heels of my feet and closed my eyes against the impending nausea.

"Ugh," I moaned as I lurched forward once more. I gasped as the flood of food spewed from my stomach.  When it felt like I had nothing else left to give, I sat down on the cold tiled floor panting with fatigue. It felt like someone had sucked the air right out of me.

"Symone!" my mother's voice rang through our apartment. "Come upstairs for a moment!"

"One second!" I called back after I flushed the disgusting fluid down the toilet.

I glanced in the mirror and tugged my curls back around my face. Quickly, I grabbed for the mouthwash and took care of my breath. It was one thing to look tired, but a whole other to smell like the reason you were tired in the first place.

I still couldn't believe that I'd walked out of the clinic still pregnant. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do, but two weeks later and four hundred dollars poorer, I was still battling with the probable fact that I'd just made a huge mistake.

"Coming," I called out again as I rinsed my mouth.

Before leaving the bathroom, I glanced down at the large, black hoodie with my school's mascot plastered on the front. I tugged on the fabric to make sure it puffed out near my stomach. Nobody else had noticed that I gained a little weight, but it wasn't lost on me.

Moments later I poked my head in between the partially closed door of my mother's room. "Yes?" I called out to her.

She had magazines and pictures gathered all around her, her hair gathered in a sloppy version of her proper bun. Curly tendrils fell along the side of her black framed glasses. I did my best to muster up a smile as she looked up at me. "There you are," she patted the bed. "Come check this out."

I hadn't had a direct conversation with my mother since I'd come home from the clinic. I felt it was in my best interest to avoid her until I mustered up the courage to say something—which I had to do before I couldn't see my toes anymore.

I shuffled over to the other side of the bed and crawled over next to her. I peered at the items surrounding her. There were color pallets, party themes and food menus piled on her lap and scattered around her hips. "What's all this for?"