Rain droplets hit my face lightly as we walked through the woods. James and I were headed towards our safe-haven; at least, that’s what we liked to call it. It was really only a secluded area in the woods that had a couch left in it. It was a brown couch, which I think was once bright white. It smelt of cat piss and mold, and felt like bristles against your bare skin. We simply adored it.
It was late one Tuesday evening in October, so the weather was misty and cool. The air smelled of dried leaves and dead trees. After fifteen minutes of walking over rocks, tree roots, and sticks we finally made it to the couch. Something was odd about this evening, I thought. The couch had a light purple sheet covering it, hiding its unpleasant texture. The sheet smelled of lilac and a hint of cigarettes, which somehow covered up the scent of cat piss. I turned to James and asked, “Why is there a sheet covering this? Do you think someone has been here?” He didn’t turn to look at me, simply said, “Nah.”
I didn’t press the subject; I didn’t really care. James wandered off behind some old oak trees and I plopped on the couch. He re-entered holding a bottle of strawberry flavored, white zinfandel, and a picnic basket full of food. “What’s this for?” I smiled lightly, since I already knew. “Our anniversary, boo. Didn’t think I’d forget, did you?” Sweetly, I smiled back, grabbed the bottle and took a large gulp. I could feel the liquid burn as it went down my throat and hit my stomach. We didn’t get around to eating the food he brought. We sat talking, and in the span of ten minutes we had engulfed the entire bottle.
From what I could remember, I woke up sometime around three a.m. to my phone ringing. “We need to talk, get home!! Where are you?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!” my mother screeched. “Obviously late”, I mumbled to myself. She ordered me to come home right this instant, so I tried to find my clothes – they were hidden beneath a pile of leaves with stems mixed in. I put them on in complete darkness, woke James up and made my long journey home.
We reached my street faster than I wanted to. I walked up my tulip-lined sidewalk and into the wooden door which would lead me straight to hell. I didn’t go in right away; I stood outside saying good-bye to James. Through the window I could see my mother sitting in her chair, as usual, arms crossed, legs twitching, waiting for my arrival. I could feel her anger as soon as I opened the door and walked into the hallway. To my surprise she didn’t ask me where I was; all she said was, “When were you going to tell me?” I looked at her and uttered, “Tell you what?” still feeling the effects of the alcohol, and from lack of sleep. “Don’t play dumb with me. When were you planning on telling me about the baby?” She hissed at me. I guess I forgot to mention to anyone I was pregnant. “I’m not keeping it, so I didn’t plan on telling you ever.” I said as I walked off. I didn’t wait to hear what else she had to say, I know it would have been along the lines of how immature and irresponsible I was, coming from Ms. Teen-mom herself.
I didn’t want the baby. I knew I wasn’t going to keep it. I just couldn’t find the courage in me to tell James. I know he would be terribly happy; he would want me to keep it and move in with him so we could be a family. I just wanted more than that. I know if I kept this baby, I’d be stuck in small town USA, forever. I didn’t want to end up like my mother.
My mind was restless now. I tossed and turned in bed, with all these emotions and thoughts in my head. I walked down the stairs and out the door at seven a.m. and headed to school. Contemplating telling James or not. What would I tell him? ‘Hey James, I’m pregnant with your child, but don’t worry because I plan on killing it?’
It was killing me. I took a detour from school to the woods, my woods, my safe-haven, my couch. My mother would be thrilled to know her only daughter had turned into a delinquent. I got to the couch and cried, not a sad cry, but a loud, hysterical, and (if anyone would have heard), obnoxious cry.
I thought about everything: James, the baby, school, my life. I have never really been religious, but maybe this is what God has planned for me. He did this so I could be completely happy, and finally complete. I sat on that couch crying, asking if this is what he had planned. I begged for an answer. A pain struck my side; I looked down to see blood trickle down my leg like a crimson tide as God said no.