In Our Hearts, We Must Carry On
iv
Friday had come much too soon. Cherry had dug an old loose-fitting shift dress out of her closet, with her favorite pair of Oxford shoes. As a precaution, she donned a pair of sunglasses and a wide hat. She had parked in the garage so no neighbors would notice her car, and had called into school impersonating her mother saying Cherry was out with the flu. Dally showed up and had parked around the corner right at 8 AM, as planned.
The ride up there was uneventful. Dally ignored Cherry as she cried silently. He heard her sniffle and peered at her over his sunglasses.
"What," he barked. Her face remained stony, save for the tears sliding down her face.
"Nothing." Her voice stayed strong.
"Something."
"Just drive."
Stepping inside the nondescript building, Cherry was shocked at how clean the clinic was. Any time she had pictured this, which admittedly was more than ever, leading up to it, she always saw a dingy room illuminated by a dim light with a seedy doctor and a dirty stained couch. But this place was bright, open, and in an actual doctor's office. The receptionist smiled at her and Cherry was relieved to see she had kind eyes; that calmed her jangling nerves a little.
Cherry was supposed to be a good girl with good grades and a good boyfriend and a bright future ahead of her; instead she found herself sitting in a hard plastic chair next to a greaser, wishing she were anywhere else, and keeping her eyes averted from the other people in the room.
They were called back three different times. First, to collect payment. Dally impatiently drummed his fingers on the armrest, and Cherry knew that he was annoyed with her for not letting him help. She ignored him.
The second was to explain the procedure, and Dally was briefly sent out in the hall while Cherry was grilled about making sure this was what she wanted. "This is your body. Your boyfriend has no right to make you do something you don't want to do."
"It was my idea. He's not my boyfriend." Cherry's voice was lifeless. She supposed the nurse thought she was just reciting what she was told to say. She knew how it looked: a pale, trembling girl fidgeting with her skirt hem with no one but a brooding, menacing boy to accompany her.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." The nurse sighed and signed a paper saying Cherry was of sound mind to go through with the procedure.
Then, there was more waiting. They were there for four hours, mindlessly watching a marathon of As The World Turns. Dally had sprawled his long legs across the floor and dozed off around the second episode, leaving Cherry alone with her thoughts. She was nervous, that was for sure. But something told her that this was right.
When she was younger, she was a staunch defender of pro-life. She hadn't even heard of abortion until her cousin Janet had come home one day in tears, saying a friend had passed away from a self-performed abortion. She remembered her mother's face turning white, seeing her father tense up when it was mentioned. When Cherry asked about it, her mother had only made her promise to cherish life and to never do what this girl had done, before swiftly whisking Janet away to the other room. Cherry readily agreed, not fully understanding what had happened, but knowing it must be bad if someone had died because of it. As she got older however, when talks with her girlfriends were less dress-up and princesses, and focused more on the topic of boys and sex, she found herself wondering what she would do in that situation. Her friends were adamant that they'd keep the baby, no matter the circumstance, and Cherry agreed every time, but how did she really know? She often found herself thinking about that girl who felt she had no other option, and her heart went out to her.
Now, she couldn't help but think about those talks with friends, and know that this was the right thing to do. She wasn't ready to have a baby, not at 17, not before having an education and a stable career and husband. She had wondered about a future with Bob, sure. Two story house, white picket fence, two kids- a boy and a girl- a perfect representation of a perfect life. A boy in a leather jacket with perfectly tousled hair and motorcycle boots never factored into that equation.
She glanced at her sleeping companion who stirred briefly before lapsing back into a quiet snore. He was so unlike Bob in every way, yet the similarities they bared were striking. They were both loyal, that was for sure. Neither boy had much in the way of a home life. They were quick to anger, though Bob was more prone when he had been drinking. They both loved fighting, though their reasons were very different; Bob, because no matter the outcome, he still won. He would always win. Dally, because he had nothing to lose but everything to prove. But Cherry had seen a softer side to each, just bubbling under the surface. Bob had done countless sweet things for her while they were together, and Dally willingly sitting inches from her meant everything. They continued to surprise her in the best of ways.
She didn't know how she still kept comparing the two, as if she would get anywhere with it. She'd never choose, not really. Her feelings for Bob were safe, comfortable, sure. Her feelings for Dally were unclear and very complex, brought on by an argument and a drink and a scary confrontation. A doctor's appointment and some distressing news and a terrifying decision.
She heard rustling in his direction and glanced again as he awoke, blearily looking around.
"Any news?" He yawned loudly and stretched cat-like.
"No," she whispered.
"Wish I had a weed right now," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. Cherry finally let her eyes wander around the room, trying not to stare too hard at the other occupants. Two girls sitting off to the side caught her eye, and she watched as a young girl cried, her body shaking with each silent sob, the older girl holding her close, making soothing noises and smoothing out the younger girl's hair. The older girl locked eyes with Cherry. Cherry's face burned red; she was intruding on a private moment. The older girl gave her a smile and a slight word, as her murmured "it's okay," carried across the room. Cherry returned the smile, grateful.
Ten minutes later, her name was called to head back for the third and final time. She took a deep breath, and stood up, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Dally. He caught her hand. She squeezed it.
"Thank you, Dallas." The significance of her saying his name was not lost on either of them, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.
"You'll change into this gown, and a nurse will be in to give you an I.V." A nurse had led her into a tiny changing room, with only a chair to sit in. There was only a curtain providing her privacy but she was too nervous to feel self-conscious.
More waiting. It felt like ages, but was only another 45 minutes.
Cherry had small veins, and it took the nurse four tries to finally get a needle in. The bruises on the back of her right hand, her right inner wrist, her right elbow dent from the previous failed attempts, and finally, her left elbow ditch were beginning to form, hues anywhere from blue to deep purple spread across her pale skin. She groaned inwardly, knowing she'd have to make up a lie to tell her parents and friends. She was taken into a small clean white room, with a papered exam table, just like the one in the doctor's office back home. That too calmed her a bit. The doctor arrived soon after, and explained what he would be doing, and assured her she wouldn't feel a thing. Cherry was distracted by his fingertips colored yellow, a sure-sign he was a smoker. He was an older man, with blonde hair that had turned gray around the temples, and kind green eyes. He spoke in low, soothing tones, willing Cherry to trust him with her life. Her stomach twisted in fear as she thought of her cousin's friend, but it was too late to back out now.
Soon after, she was under, and the procedure had begun.
The ride up there was uneventful. Dally ignored Cherry as she cried silently. He heard her sniffle and peered at her over his sunglasses.
"What," he barked. Her face remained stony, save for the tears sliding down her face.
"Nothing." Her voice stayed strong.
"Something."
"Just drive."
* * *
Stepping inside the nondescript building, Cherry was shocked at how clean the clinic was. Any time she had pictured this, which admittedly was more than ever, leading up to it, she always saw a dingy room illuminated by a dim light with a seedy doctor and a dirty stained couch. But this place was bright, open, and in an actual doctor's office. The receptionist smiled at her and Cherry was relieved to see she had kind eyes; that calmed her jangling nerves a little.
Cherry was supposed to be a good girl with good grades and a good boyfriend and a bright future ahead of her; instead she found herself sitting in a hard plastic chair next to a greaser, wishing she were anywhere else, and keeping her eyes averted from the other people in the room.
They were called back three different times. First, to collect payment. Dally impatiently drummed his fingers on the armrest, and Cherry knew that he was annoyed with her for not letting him help. She ignored him.
The second was to explain the procedure, and Dally was briefly sent out in the hall while Cherry was grilled about making sure this was what she wanted. "This is your body. Your boyfriend has no right to make you do something you don't want to do."
"It was my idea. He's not my boyfriend." Cherry's voice was lifeless. She supposed the nurse thought she was just reciting what she was told to say. She knew how it looked: a pale, trembling girl fidgeting with her skirt hem with no one but a brooding, menacing boy to accompany her.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive." The nurse sighed and signed a paper saying Cherry was of sound mind to go through with the procedure.
Then, there was more waiting. They were there for four hours, mindlessly watching a marathon of As The World Turns. Dally had sprawled his long legs across the floor and dozed off around the second episode, leaving Cherry alone with her thoughts. She was nervous, that was for sure. But something told her that this was right.
When she was younger, she was a staunch defender of pro-life. She hadn't even heard of abortion until her cousin Janet had come home one day in tears, saying a friend had passed away from a self-performed abortion. She remembered her mother's face turning white, seeing her father tense up when it was mentioned. When Cherry asked about it, her mother had only made her promise to cherish life and to never do what this girl had done, before swiftly whisking Janet away to the other room. Cherry readily agreed, not fully understanding what had happened, but knowing it must be bad if someone had died because of it. As she got older however, when talks with her girlfriends were less dress-up and princesses, and focused more on the topic of boys and sex, she found herself wondering what she would do in that situation. Her friends were adamant that they'd keep the baby, no matter the circumstance, and Cherry agreed every time, but how did she really know? She often found herself thinking about that girl who felt she had no other option, and her heart went out to her.
Now, she couldn't help but think about those talks with friends, and know that this was the right thing to do. She wasn't ready to have a baby, not at 17, not before having an education and a stable career and husband. She had wondered about a future with Bob, sure. Two story house, white picket fence, two kids- a boy and a girl- a perfect representation of a perfect life. A boy in a leather jacket with perfectly tousled hair and motorcycle boots never factored into that equation.
She glanced at her sleeping companion who stirred briefly before lapsing back into a quiet snore. He was so unlike Bob in every way, yet the similarities they bared were striking. They were both loyal, that was for sure. Neither boy had much in the way of a home life. They were quick to anger, though Bob was more prone when he had been drinking. They both loved fighting, though their reasons were very different; Bob, because no matter the outcome, he still won. He would always win. Dally, because he had nothing to lose but everything to prove. But Cherry had seen a softer side to each, just bubbling under the surface. Bob had done countless sweet things for her while they were together, and Dally willingly sitting inches from her meant everything. They continued to surprise her in the best of ways.
She didn't know how she still kept comparing the two, as if she would get anywhere with it. She'd never choose, not really. Her feelings for Bob were safe, comfortable, sure. Her feelings for Dally were unclear and very complex, brought on by an argument and a drink and a scary confrontation. A doctor's appointment and some distressing news and a terrifying decision.
She heard rustling in his direction and glanced again as he awoke, blearily looking around.
"Any news?" He yawned loudly and stretched cat-like.
"No," she whispered.
"Wish I had a weed right now," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. Cherry finally let her eyes wander around the room, trying not to stare too hard at the other occupants. Two girls sitting off to the side caught her eye, and she watched as a young girl cried, her body shaking with each silent sob, the older girl holding her close, making soothing noises and smoothing out the younger girl's hair. The older girl locked eyes with Cherry. Cherry's face burned red; she was intruding on a private moment. The older girl gave her a smile and a slight word, as her murmured "it's okay," carried across the room. Cherry returned the smile, grateful.
Ten minutes later, her name was called to head back for the third and final time. She took a deep breath, and stood up, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Dally. He caught her hand. She squeezed it.
"Thank you, Dallas." The significance of her saying his name was not lost on either of them, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.
* * *
"You'll change into this gown, and a nurse will be in to give you an I.V." A nurse had led her into a tiny changing room, with only a chair to sit in. There was only a curtain providing her privacy but she was too nervous to feel self-conscious.
More waiting. It felt like ages, but was only another 45 minutes.
Cherry had small veins, and it took the nurse four tries to finally get a needle in. The bruises on the back of her right hand, her right inner wrist, her right elbow dent from the previous failed attempts, and finally, her left elbow ditch were beginning to form, hues anywhere from blue to deep purple spread across her pale skin. She groaned inwardly, knowing she'd have to make up a lie to tell her parents and friends. She was taken into a small clean white room, with a papered exam table, just like the one in the doctor's office back home. That too calmed her a bit. The doctor arrived soon after, and explained what he would be doing, and assured her she wouldn't feel a thing. Cherry was distracted by his fingertips colored yellow, a sure-sign he was a smoker. He was an older man, with blonde hair that had turned gray around the temples, and kind green eyes. He spoke in low, soothing tones, willing Cherry to trust him with her life. Her stomach twisted in fear as she thought of her cousin's friend, but it was too late to back out now.
Soon after, she was under, and the procedure had begun.