Through the Break in Her Hair

Chapter 31

"John, how could you?!" my mother gasped, mortified. But I had nothing to give her, no answer for my actions. "Is this, can she even...?"

She was just as baffled as I was. I didn't know how it happened, didn't know how a twelve year old girl could be pregnant, could get pregnant. That was like...ancient, biblical!

"John, is Lindsey absolutely sure that she is..." My father couldn't even say the word, he had yet to anyway.

My head hung lifelessly, chin draping onto my chest. I nodded. "She took three tests, all came back positive."

Of course, I had asked Lindsey the same thing, after I came to. I must have passed out, or blacked out, or something happened where all my brain cells randomly combusted in the school's hallway. And when my neurons started firing again, I stammered that question a few times.

"Are you sure?" I think that it hurt Lindsey's feelings, for me to keep asking-- she started to cry. But I had to know, had to be sure before I told my parents. It would make the difference between a lifelong grounding and lifelong disappointment and shame.

Dad leaned over and cupped his forehead in hands, rubbing his palms into the sockets of his eyes. He groaned. He was probably going to be sick. Which was strikingly similar to how I felt and had been feeling all afternoon. Gurgling stomach, dizzy, uncoordinated speech and gait. Yeah, I'd be "sick" for a long time.

After I made it home, I spent a good deal of time pacing my bedroom floor, rehearsing what I was going to say to them. But nothing could have prepared me for their reaction. I knew that they'd be angry, furious even. I just wasn't prepared for that level of disappointment, after the shock of it wore off.

Mom closed her eyes, massaging her temples. "How did this happen?" she whispered.

I shirked my shoulders. "I don't know. We were in the band room kissing, and then...I don't know!" Admitting to my parents that I got a girl pregnant was terrifying enough, having to explain the actual details of our...encounter was adding lemon juice to a knife wound! Utterly unbearable!

"We thought you were too young, thought we didn't have to explain these things to you yet," Dad's head was rocking back and forth in his hands. "We raised you better than this, we expected more from you!" he shouted, rising like a cobra.

I shot back in my seat, momentarily taken back. Mom too, was looking kind of frightened. "What your dad means," she patted his arm, trying to smooth things over, lower the tension. "Is that this comes as a shock. It's not something we were prepared for."

I totally got it. I understood where they were coming from. It was obviously a shock to me too, but there was a tiny detail, a wrinkle that was more important than just the shear shock of it all. "Lindsey's mom wants her to get an abortion," I let the words slide from my mouth, barely breaking above a whisper.

My parent's expressions froze, and they turned to look at one another.

They were virtuous Christian people, practically saints, who went to church every Sunday and believed that there was good in every person, no matter what their crime or fault. They passed out second and third and fourth and a million chances to people who deserved far less. They valued life from its very first stage, and they taught me to do the same.

Lindsey getting an abortion would be like me cutting off one of my own limbs. This baby, no matter how small and insignificant in the eyes of others, was precious to me. It was special. This baby was a part of me, and a part of Lindsey. And even if it wasn't Lindsey, if it were some other girl, I would never condone abortion. Stealing innocent lives before their voices could be heard, was wrong.