Good Girls Have Secrets

Chapter 15

Driving to work, my mind drifts to  the day I decided to move to Iowa.

Abortion. The word of the day my mom throws around like it's the cure for the common cold. I'm too far along to even consider it. I don't care if the law allows it.

Relaxing, shopping, and hanging out with friends, that's my plan for Thanksgiving break. Instead my mom holds me hostage at the kitchen table with the family warden, my grandma.

Grandma Stella chimes in every few seconds. The only reason I don't tell her off is because she's paying for my college. Pretending to listen, I plan to do what I want.

Laying her hands in her lap, Stella hits me with her best shot, "As you know your college scholarship requirements won't allow me to pay for your school, if you have a child." It's not actually a scholarship. Good grades are only part of her so-called scholarship. It's like a full-time job keeping up with all her demands.

"Maddie." My mom's voice snaps me back to reality. "Are you listening?"

Clenching my fists under the table, I snap back at her. "This is my decision." Wishing I'd kept this a secret, like I planned. In a moment of weakness, I confessed to my mother, and she flipped out. That's what I get for being honest.

Cutting off my grandma's lecture, I whine, "Mom, you were only twenty-two when you had Corrine and twenty-three when Max was born."

"There's a big difference between nineteen and twenty-two. Besides, we were married." Something flashes in here eyes, like a warning. I've crossed some boundary I don't understand.

Glaring at them, I yell, "I never said I wanted to keep the baby, I only said I won't kill it."

"Maddie!" My mom shouts at me. "Quit turning this around like you're a victim. I'm so sick of your constant issues. I feel like all I ever do is fix your messes."

My grandma chimes in. "What does William think about this?"

Glaring at my mother for telling my grandma that Will is the father. William. No one calls him that. Rolling my eyes, I shriek,  "Will doesn't know. I can't deal with him or his family right now." Losing control, I add, "It's my life. My decision! This conversation is over!"

Standing up, I grab my keys off the counter, storming out the door, letting it slam behind me. My mother's voice follows me out. "Madison Lynn Beckman get back here. We're not done with this conversation."

Punching the gas, I smack the garbage can at the end of the driveway. Throwing my Jetta in drive, I speed away.

Two hours later, in my dorm room at UCSB, I Facetime my Aunt Beth. "Can I come to live with you and Uncle David next semester?"

Pretending my life isn't in shambles has been easy until today. It's not like I never think about it, but it's almost like it's happening to someone else.

That day changed everything. The shred of relationship with I had with my mom is gone. 

Entering in the store's address in Waze, to keep from missing the exit again, I turn the radio to soothing music. Last time I went clear out of my way, making me fifteen minutes late for work. I hate being late, so I've given myself an hour, just in case.

My mom never bothered to ask why I refused an abortion. I pull out my phone to record what I wish I could've told her.

Mom, I know the finality of an abortion. It almost destroyed me. At 16, Planned Parenthood handed me pills to take care of the problem. The lady explained that the tiny ball of cells could be eliminated without anyone knowing, allowing me to move on with my life.