Be My One Regret

be my 1 regret / then

6 years ago.....

"You're what?!"

"Oh my gawd, Dad, calm down. I know it sounds bad, but I think if..."

"That's the problem. You didn't think. Thus the situation you're in right now. Oh dear God, Ophelia. This is not good. Not good at all. You have a bright future ahead of you, there's so many things you need to do yet. This...this...is not at all in the plans."

Blinking my eyes in utter awe of his little speech, I watch as my dad furiously marches back and forth across our expansive grand formal living room floor raking his fingers thru his hair. A worn path was starting to become visible in the wake of his fiery stomp on the oriental rug. And I feel bad. Scratch that. I feel stupid. I should have never told him. I should have kept my mouth shut. He was never going to be able to understand me. Especially now. If we ever had a chance of having any relationship, it was all shot to hell now. I was a idiot for thinking otherwise. I puff out an exasperated breath.

No shit.

With a jerky stop to his forceful pace, he turns on his Gucci wingtips and points a stiff, rigid finger in my direction. Undeniable panic and humiliation circle thru his work aged eyes. "Listen to me young lady, we are going to fix this and fix this now. I will not have my daughter be the laughing stock of this town at the expense of a Jones. I'm gonna make a call."

My tiny teenage world teeters on it's axis, and I lurch up from seat on the couch. "Call who? Do what? I'm not dying dad. It's just a---"

Anger like I've never seen before bolts thru his eyes. "Don't you dare say the word. That's not what this is. This is just a complication. And complications in life can be erased. Like they never existed. And that's what we will do. Erase this. I know a well respected doctor who will keep this confidential and private. I don't want to have you paraded around publicly in some driveling gossip for your lack of...."

He takes in a quick breath as I growl a curse of defiance at him. His shoulders slump. Which was unheard of. Owen Savage never slouches. He's dignified and proud, always standing perfectly poised and strong. But here he was, wrecked. Shaken and afraid. I could see it in his face. And if I didn't know better, love was peeking thru his mire. He wanted to protect me. That was clear. He may not have been delivering it well in his rant, but still, I could see it. And I needed to accept it.

With resolve, I lick my dry lips. "Dad, I'm sorry."

Owen Savage, the ever strong and controlled man, takes a deep breath squeezing his eyes briefly shut. But as he flicks them open, I see remains of tears that didn't shed. He clears his throat and speaks very softly. "I know, Ophelia. Believe me when I say that I wish this never happened to you. So for that, I'm so very sorry that I haven't been around more to keep you from making poor choices in your young life. But..." His Adam's Apple baubles a bit in his neck. He clears his throat quickly in recovery from slipping with a weak cry. "Ophelia, this isn't completely your fault. I am quite disappointed that you were taken advantage of. If I could, I'd march over to that young man's house and kick the shit out of him. But unfortunately, I can't do that. But what I can do is make this all disappear. And I swear to you, in a matter of days, this situation will all be gone. And we can start fresh, okay?"

A twist of pain knifes my heart. I didn't want to agree. But I knew if I didn't, my relationship with my dad, as slight as it was, would never be the same. It would forever be damaged more than I wanted it to be. And I needed one parent. My mom, God rest her soul, would have handled this "situation" differently but he was the parent I had left. And I needed to be grateful for some glimpse of love. If only my dad knew that there was no one person at fault. It just happened. This "situation" was the result of me falling for the last guy I thought I would. And it was dumb. It was. On every level of stupidity, I should have known better than to trust a guy. It was a failure with huge consequence, I knew that. But nobody was perfect, not me, not the guy in question. And obviously, neither of us could have predicted the faulty product of a condom.

My chin trembles, and I nod blinking away the tears that threaten. "Yeah, dad. Whatever you think is best."

Days later, and I'm on a plane flying to another state per dad's recommendation that he set up. And within a few more hours, I'm sitting in a cold, white, sterile waiting room staring down at my phone as it rings for the bajillionth time. Every flash and every  ring taunts.  Gorgeous  faces appear on the screen. The one and then the other. They alternate with breathtakingly irritating grins until it's agonizing. Unbelievably so. I know they're looking for me. Wondering where I am. Why I'm not at school. Why I'm not at home. Why I'm not with them. It was the curse of being best friends with one twin and having sex with the other. The exact one that got me into this "situation".  It was a truthfully ugly hole that I was in. And it was deep. Way over my head deep.

So, I ignore Tanner and Tucker's calls. Not once even considering a reply. Just like all the calls from the days before I hadn't answered, I don't acknowledge them now. Because I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to explain anything. I had no answers. No choices. And no will. I was a twisted mess as a result of my teenage hormones. And everything about them, about this 'situation' was conflicting with my desire to find favor in my dad's eyes again. So there I was. By myself. Always by myself.

The phone begins to heat in my palm as the calls don't cease. Bundling with anxious nerves, I swipe my thumb over the phone sailing yet another call into my overloaded voice mail. I curse at the device, and at myself, then shut it off. There was no use leaving it on. It would just drive me further insane. Neither of the cute copper headed twins would quit. I knew that for certain. It was a hold beyond friendship and it was neither good or bad. It just was what it was.

A scrape of a metal door opening jilts me to my surroundings. I blink my eyes up to see a sweet grandmotherly type lady smiling nicely down at me. Her scrubs have fluffy little kittens on them. And I find it ironic. There was nothing nice about where I was. The idea that wearing some pleasant clothing would settle one's emotions was absurd. Like that would ease the conscience of someone who was discarding an unwanted pregnancy with something so horrific as an abortion. It was ludicrous. Probably not the poor lady's intention, but still, that's how it felt at that exact moment. Fake. False. And not freeing. It was more like a noose of ultimate regret. And I gulp down the clot of remorse and anger in my throat.

Yeah, this was  sickeningly the opposite of nice. My gawd. What am I doing?

Crinkling her nose at my uncertainty, the nurse calls me. "You ready sweetheart? The doctor can see you now."

My head spins with brief hesitation to say just leave. To bolt out the door and run. To choose a path for someone inside of me that was created even if by mistake. It wasn't their fault. It was mine. My gut gnaws with the humbleness of that very concept. It was significant, even if so very small. And my stomach churns harder as I think about the other person who helped create this tiny hiccup. That Tucker didn't get a choice in this either was probably not right. That it didn't require his input was wrong on some level. And a huge wave of guilt hits me hard with that little fact.

So was this the right choice? Was it?

Sharply, as if he were in the room, my dad's voice tramples over my agonizing fears. It's loud and shakes a finger of determination for me to have a better life. One without complication. Especially at the young age of 17. Because I was too young. A victim in the worst kind of teenage cliché ever. And it was obvious that it would lead to issues. Beyond juggling young motherhood. There were others in the equation that would complicate my life and the life of this creation. And I would never hear the end of how I ruined their son's life. And that was the absolute truth of it all. The bottom line. I would be wrecking a Jones' reputation. And I would be reminded of it daily. Like I was the scarlet letter to this "situation" because it would be labeled my fault, and my fault only. 

My shoulders stiffen, and I ball my fists at my sides.

Damn it. Dad was right. I hate it. But he was. It's now or never.

I stamp down my conflict-ion into the depths of my tortured soul and swing my lips upward into a messy, lousy smile. "Yep. I'm so ready."