Positively Mine Page 5

  “Who is he?”

  “He was my advisor and my favorite professor. Really knows his stuff.”

  “He’s still here?”

  “Laurel, you have to take this class with him. I think you’d get a lot out of it.”

  He handed me the catalogue, and I read the description aloud, “Introduction to Legal Ethics: Understanding and researching issues of professional responsibility is important in our judicial system. This course sets out to explore the rules governing the conduct of lawyers and judges that are adopted from state to state and how these rules are enforced in a complex legal system…”

  There was more to it than that, but my brain drifted off after reading the first few sentences. “It looks interesting, Dad.” I tried to humor him. “But I’ve already signed up for my classes, and I have a full load. Four classes plus a science lab for three hours on Tuesdays.”

  “When I was a freshman, I took five classes the first semester. I think that is customary.”

  “Well, it is as long as one of your classes doesn’t involve a lab. My advisor thought I had an adequate schedule for the first semester of college.”

  My father grabbed my hand. “Laurel, one of your classes is satisfying a PE requirement. Don’t be afraid to push yourself. You’re a smart girl.”

  “I’m not, Dad. I just…maybe I could take it in the spring.”

  My father shook his head. “No, look here. It says this class is only offered fall term. You’d have to wait until next year, and then who knows who would teach it.”

  Our entrees arrived, and my father continued to look through the course descriptions, ignoring his food and any attempt at conversation after that.

  I felt like I had hurt his feelings or something. So when we returned to our hotel, I logged into the Colman registrar’s site and checked to see if there was still room in the class. And, no surprise given the description…it was only half full.

  I work my way through six hours of homework, only stopping to refill my water bottle, get a candy bar from the vending machine and an occasional trip to the bathroom. I’ve been sitting in the stacks for the whole afternoon, nowhere near a window. So when I pack up and get to the main corridor, the contrast of darkness outside against the fluorescent lights is startling.

  A wide circular stair leads to a large study lounge – the one place in the library where you’re allowed to socialize. It’s enclosed in glass overlooking the first floor on one side and offering panoramic views of the lake on the other.

  Years ago, when people were allowed to smoke on campus, it was the smoker’s lounge. It still has a faint stale smell of tobacco that has never fully gone away, but no one seems to mind. On Sundays it tends to be packed because people want to talk about their weekends.

  I look around to see if there’s anyone from Miller who may want to grab dinner. Mikayla and Olivia have their books stretched out on a four-top table in the corner, but they’re deep in conversation and don’t seem to be studying too hard. No one ever does in here.

  I walk over to them. “Hi.”

  “Hey, Laurel. How are you?” Olivia smiles.

  “Here. Sit.” Mikayla pushes her books out of the way, and I slide into the chair next to her.

  “We’re working on the lab questions. Well, kind of working…” Olivia laughs.

  “I just finished mine,” I say. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “Nope. We were gonna grab something at The Moose in a few,” Mikayla answers. “Want to come with?”

  The Moose Café is the only restaurant on campus. It isn’t part of the meal plan, but it’s decent, so you don’t mind paying out of pocket once in a while for something different. It’s also the only place open late if you happen to miss dinner and don’t feel like ordering take-out.

  “Sure.”

  “We’re almost done. Just give us a few minutes.”

  I nod and sit back, taking in the scene around the room.

  With five thousand students, Colman isn’t really considered to be a big school. But as a freshman, living in a freshman dorm, up the freshman hill, it seems big to me and I’m coming from one of the largest cities in the world. There are so many people just in this room that I haven’t met yet, and I probably never will if they’re seniors.

  I watch the upperclassmen as they move around, talking to one another, and feel a twinge of jealousy at their confidence, now established with their friends and their majors. They seem like they have it together. They’ve figured out how to balance a heavy course load with a social life. Some are in serious relationships probably destined to get married one day like my parents did. Some are still determined to catch as much action as they can before they have to go off and join the real world.

  Regardless, the thought of being so self-assured here is appealing, it could definitely help you go far in life. Well, if you weren’t pregnant….

  Mikayla interrupts my thoughts. “We’re ready.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dinner is easy with Mikayla and Olivia. They’ve become fast friends, and they chat away about the party on Friday night without requiring much from me other than a few nods and some “yeah, that was funny” types of comments.

  Afterwards, they return to the library, but I’m mostly done with the exception of legal ethics reading, which I’ll do in bed to lull me to sleep. Since I’m determined to keep myself busy, I take to cleaning my room. That includes organizing my closet, refolding sweaters that are already folded, organizing drawers, changing the sheets on my bed and finally going down to the laundry room to put in a few loads.

  Once I’ve separated my whites and colors, gotten change, and have three washers running, I plop down in front of the TV, which is probably as old as the dorm itself, and wait for the wash cycles to finish.

  Too distracted for the limited choices on this relic with only basic cable, I pull out my phone and see that I’ve gotten four voicemails.

  “Hey, where are you?” It’s Mike. “Was wondering if you wanted to grab some lunch. Call or text.”

  The second is from my dad. “Laurel, call when you get this. I want to talk to you about Uncle Jake. He said the two of you had a conversation at your grandparents’ house? What were you doing there?”

  He sounds annoyed. The last thing I want is to talk to my father AT ALL this week. I delete the message. I think I’ll let this one lie for a while.

  The third call is from my friend Tara. “Laurel! It’s been like a month, and you haven’t been in touch. Hope you’re not studying too hard, you brainiac. I’m having a blast at FIT. Call me or I’m taking you off my favorites list.”

  The fourth is a voice I don’t recognize. “I’m returning your call from Women’s Choice. This is Karen. If you want to call me at home up until 10pm, that is fine. Otherwise, I will be in the clinic tomorrow morning.” I look around for a pen, find one on the floor, and jot down her number.

  While I’ve been listening to messages, a handful of people have come down to do laundry, and four guys are now monopolizing the couch with the television turned on to Sunday Night Football. I transfer my wet clothes into dryers, set the timers for sixty minutes, and return to my room, pondering whose call to return first.

  Definitely not my father. I wouldn’t mind talking to Mike, and I really should call Tara. But, like my dad, I don’t want to talk to her until after this week is over. She’s been my best friend since pre-school, and she has this gift I call “Laurel-radar.” She can always tell when I’m hiding something or when something is wrong – even if it’s over the phone. There’s no way I can get through a conversation with her tonight without telling her. She’ll have it out of me in thirty seconds, maybe less.

  So I dial Mike’s number, feeling my pulse quickening as I wait for him to pick up.

  “Hey,” he whispers, “hang on. I’m in the quiet room in the library.” I listen as he exits through a door, then says in a normal voice, “Where’ve you been all day?”

  “I was there.”
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  “I looked around but didn’t see you.”

  My mouth can’t help smiling hearing he looked for me. “I was hiding. I had a ton of work to catch up on.”

  “Yeah. Me too. That’s why I’m in the quiet room.” His voice is weary, but cheerful. “I’m still not caught up; otherwise I’d say let’s hang later.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’m doing laundry. Then I’ve got more reading to finish.”

  “I have an econ test tomorrow. I shouldn’t have waited until today to study. I’m going to be here ’til closing. Too much partying.”

  “Yeah…Have you seen Liz?”

  “She’s here. She’s totally hungover.”

  “At least she’s alive.”

  “You want to meet tomorrow? Maybe grab dinner?” he asks.

  I think about the call I have to make. I might not be available. I might be out of it for a couple days, actually. “Let me see how things are going.”

  When we hang up, I gather the courage to dial Karen’s home number.

  “Hello.” Her voice is different from in person, less high-pitched.

  “Um, this is Laurel Harris.” Mine comes out in a hoarse whisper.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. Sorry to call you at home.”

  “It’s not a problem. You said you’ve made your decision?”

  The lump forms again in my throat. I swallow. “I want to take the pill this week. I don’t think I should have this baby.”

  “And you’re certain about that? You seemed to be conflicted on Friday, that’s why I’m asking.”

  I ignore the goose bumps that have broken out all over my arms. “It’d just be too much for me, I think.”

  We set up an appointment for 4pm Monday, so I don’t have to miss another day’s worth of classes. Then I crawl into bed and pull my knees to my chest to relieve the knotted muscles that seem to have taken over.

  Chapter Twelve

  I zone out all the way through Biology, Legal Ethics, and Swedish Massage, barely present but happy I don’t have to sit in my dorm room alone all day. I can’t seem to wrap my head around what is next. I know I’m making the smart choice. I can do this.

  As I unlock my bike to ride downtown, I realize I’ve left the truck parked in front of the president’s house for two days. If it was towed, I don’t know how I’d get it back without involving my father as I have no proof I have any right to drive the thing. I pedal as fast as I can down the hill.

  Thankfully, the dinosaur is still sitting where Mike parked it, looking very out of place among the nice cars and brick mansions that line the street along the lake. After I hoist my bike into the back, I climb in to see there’s something stuck on the windshield. Rolling down the window and reaching around, I see it’s a ticket. Apparently I need a permit to park in front of the president’s house. Just great. $105. I toss it on the seat next to me.

  The waiting room isn’t as crowded as it had been on Friday. There are only a handful of people sitting around a television. I tell the receptionist I’m here and join them, but I’m way too fidgety for Court TV, so I reach into my bag and grab the envelope that contains the $500 cash I withdrew from the ATM. No one seems to be looking in my direction, so I don’t mind counting through the $20 bills.

  $500. All it takes to end a pregnancy…

  Karen stands in the doorway, wearing her white coat with a stethoscope draped around her neck, and waves me in. We go right to an examination room.

  There are two cups on the counter – one with a pill in it, the other water. She gestures for me to take a seat.

  “Before we begin, do you have any questions?”

  “I was wondering how long I’ll be laid up once this starts.”

  “Today and tomorrow you’ll be fine. On Wednesday, you’ll take a second pill about the same time as now, and then cramping and bleeding will follow. The worst of it goes on for four to five hours. You might feel dizzy. So we recommend you have a friend with you if you can. By the next day, you may be well enough to return to classes or you may not. You might need to take a day off.”

  “Is there anything else I need to do?”

  “Along with the pill, I’m also giving you a prescription for antibiotics that you should begin tonight and continue to take until you finish them all. We’ll need to see you back here in two weeks to make sure that you’ve completely aborted.”

  Aborted. As if you can just expel and walk away. Perhaps a better word would be abandoned. I abandoned my pregnancy. Yes. Abandoned. I was stupid, and then I abandoned.

  “Laurel?” Karen interrupts my thoughts. “Do you have any other questions?”

  “No. I think I understand.”

  Karen hands me a pill package and a prescription. “If you experience any unusual symptoms, don’t hesitate to call us. We have nurses and doctors available 24/7. I’m going to give you some privacy. When you’re ready, the first pill is here. Once you take it, there is no turning back. You can’t take one and not the other. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll see you back here in two weeks.”

  Karen closes the door, and suddenly it is me and a small pill that may as well be as big as an elephant. She was right. I was conflicted. I still am. But I’m trying to gather all the strength I can from the practical part of my brain. A few pills and I’m done. By Friday, I’ll be feeling pretty good. I can focus on having a life at Colman, maybe something with Mike. This will be behind me, and no one needs to know. It all seems so easy.

  But then why am I still sitting here? If it were easy, I’d be out the door already. I shift my weight, and the paper on the exam table crackles.

  I put my hand on my stomach and think about the sound of that heart beating on Friday, so strong it filled up this sterile room. With all the loss I’ve had to deal with over the last eight years, all the hearts of people I have loved that have stopped beating, do I want to be responsible for stopping another one?

  I feel the blood thrumming in my ear. Forget about having any semblance of a life. I can kiss the whole Mike thing good-bye…and school? What could I give this kid? Besides he’d probably end up resenting me like I resent my father.

  I grab the pill from the cup and let it sit in the palm of my hand. It’s probably not much smaller than the embryo inside me. A cartoon image comes into my head of two miniscule objects battling against each other in a boxing ring.

  Which one is it going to be?

  ***

  “Karen,” I say from the doorway of her office.

  She looks up from her desk, where she’s writing something in a file.

  “Is everything all right?”

  I hand her the pills and the prescription. “I need the name of a doctor.”

  She sits back in her chair and bites on her pen, not saying anything.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean, I know it would make my life easier, and I am probably making a huge mistake. But I just can’t do it.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “So what do I do now?”

  “You gather your resources. You’re going to need all the support you can find.”

  A wave of dizziness sends the room spinning, so I sit down on the edge of a chair.

  “There are organizations that help young women in your situation. I know of one in Seneca Falls, and there’s another one in Rochester. You’d need a car or someone to give you a ride.” She begins jotting down names and phone numbers on a piece of paper.

  “That’s not a problem.”

  Karen continues, “They’ll help with anything you need – someone to talk to, birthing classes, baby clothes, anything.”

  She hands me the paper, then pulls out something from the drawer. “You’ll also have to begin prenatal care with an obstetrician. Here is a list of names. Many women prefer to pick the hospital where they’d like to deliver first and then find a doctor affiliated with that hospital.”
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br />   My head pounds. Pick the hospital where I’d like to deliver? I manage to squeak out a, “Which one do you like?”

  “Well, Rochester Hospital has an excellent reputation for its maternity care. They also offer a prenatal clinic for mothers who can’t pay or can’t pay in full. Basically, they won’t turn anyone away because of lack of insurance.” Karen looks me straight in the eye when she says this. “You said you have some issues with your father, and I’d hate to see you avoid prenatal care because you don’t know how to tell him.”

  I bite my lip. Too hard. The taste of blood fills my mouth.

  “If adoption is something you think you might consider, there are a few agencies in the area as well.”

  “I don’t know if I could do that.”

  She hands me a list of adoption agencies, their addresses and phone numbers. “Just in case.” And closes the file drawer. “The resources are there. It is up to you to seek them out. In the meantime, take the vitamins, and schedule your first prenatal visit.”

  “Okay.”

  “Parenting is a rewarding choice, but it is not an easy one. You need to be prepared for the challenges ahead.” She watches while I look through the information. Then she pushes the chair from her desk and stands. “I have another appointment. Call if you need anything, okay?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The workload at Colman is so heavy sometimes I feel like the freshmen are all walking zombies. Two weeks have passed since my fateful decision, and I’ve had no choice but to bury myself in schoolwork, which is a good thing.

  Mike and I have hardly seen each other: we had breakfast once in the cafeteria last week; he walked me to a class the other day; there’ve been a couple phone calls and texts. It’s fine because I don’t want to talk about what is going on, and since that’s all that’s on my mind, I have nothing to say.

  Plus, he’s feeling the pressure. As fun as he can be, he’s also super competitive, like most people at this school. He didn’t do well on his econ test, and it was bad. He only passed because the professor curved it. He’s used to getting As and is here on an academic scholarship that he can’t afford to lose. So he’s taking things more seriously these days. I’m glad because I don’t have to keep coming up with excuses why I don’t want to see him.