Dancing Naked (6 page)

Jan. 17

Who is in control of me or of this tiny new life?

Me, or him?

Control—does IT have any?

No, IT depends on me.

If you are not born, do you have a soul?

Can you die?

Is birth or conception the first moment of life?

Tomorrow IT dies.

Will IT forgive me?

“So, you’ve been counseled, you understand your options, and you’re here of your own free will?” the doctor at the clinic asked. His voice was flat and the expression on his face was deadpan.

Kia nodded.

“And you understand the procedure?”

Kia met his gaze and held it. “Yeah, you’re going to dilate my cervix, go into my uterus and scrape off everything that’s in there. Then you’re going to use a suction to suck it all out.”

The doctor’s eyebrows arched involuntarily. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“And I won’t let the sound of the suction freak me out. I’ve been warned.”

The doctor stared at her. “You have signed the consent forms?”

Kia nodded.

“Well then,” he shuffled the papers on his desk, “your boyfriend has to wait in the lobby, or he can come back in an hour and a half.”

“He’s not ...” Kia began, but Justin reached over and took her hand. He squeezed it when she looked up at him. He was smiling and shaking his head slightly, so she didn’t finish the sentence.

“That’s it, then,” the doctor said, standing up. “Kia, you can put on one of the gowns that you’ll find through there.” He pointed to a door across the room. “A nurse will come and get you shortly and I’ll see you in the treatment room.”

Treatment room, Kia thought. They do the “procedure” in the “treatment” room. No one wants to talk about what is actually happening here.

She stood and looked up at Justin, who towered above her. The top of her head barely reached his chin, but she probably weighed just as much as him, he was so skinny. He reached down and hugged her again, squeezing tightly.
She could feel all his bones through his thin shirt.

“I’ll be here,” he said. “Sending positive energy your way.”

The comment was so typically Justin that she smiled, though it was hard. “Thanks,” she answered, then turned and followed the doctor through the back door.

Kia reached for a gown from the pile. She shook it out and wondered who had last worn it. Another sixteen-year-old perhaps, sick with remorse? She slipped it on and wrapped her arms around herself. She might as well be wearing nothing for all the warmth it gave. Reaching behind her, she clutched together the gap in the back and then peeked out of the cubicle, wondering what she was supposed to do next. There were two chairs and a couple of
Better Health
magazines on a table. She slipped out of the cubicle and sat down, trying to keep the gap in the back of the gown closed. Picking up a magazine, she flipped through a few pages, then put it down again. She couldn’t focus on words or pictures.

She thought of Justin waiting in the lobby and instantly felt a little better just knowing he was there. She closed her eyes and tried to picture his face. It was long and narrow, like his build, and his shoulder-length auburn hair, which grew in fuzzy coils, was pulled back into a ponytail, making his face appear even longer. He wore baggy, multicolored pants that could have passed for pajama bottoms, and shirts and vests straight out of the ’70s. He’d proudly admitted that he shopped at second-hand stores. There was always a sparkle in his dark
brown eyes, and the corners of his wide mouth turned up, like a pixie’s, so he looked perpetually happy.

Kia thought back to the day she’d phoned and told Derek that she didn’t want him going to the abortion clinic with her.

“What made you think I was planning to?” he’d asked.

She hadn’t answered. He was becoming so predictable.

“Kidding,” he’d said. But she hadn’t been convinced. “So who
is
going with you, then?” he’d asked suspiciously. Kia had forgotten she’d said she wasn’t going to tell anyone else.

“A friend from my church,” she’d hedged, not wanting to be too specific. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mention your name.”

She was sure she’d heard relief in the silence that followed. For a moment she’d regretted her decision. Maybe she shouldn’t have let him off the hook so easily. She should have made him come with her and then insisted he sit in the lobby and wait. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad as what she had to go through, but it would have been something.

But she was relieved to have Justin with her, she decided, looking around at the antiseptic surroundings of the clinic. She needed moral support more than she needed the pleasure of punishing Derek.

“Are you okay, dear?” asked a nurse who’d just appeared from another room.

Kia looked up, startled by the question. The words were kind enough, she noticed, but the tone was sharp
and the stubborn set of her jaw matched her voice better than the words.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You’re holding your stomach. I thought maybe you were sick.”

Kia looked down and noticed that both of her hands were once again resting on her stomach. She’d caught herself assuming this protective position a lot lately. Protective? That was a joke, she thought, considering what she was about to do to the tiny life inside her.

“No.” She took her hands off her stomach. “I’m all right.” But it was a lie.

“Good. Then follow me. We’re going to the treatment room now.”

Kia wondered if her knees were going to buckle under her weight when she stood up, and suddenly she did feel queasy.

The nurse led her down a corridor and opened a door at the far end. They entered a large room with a sterile-looking cot in the center. Beside the bed all kinds of surgical equipment lay on a cart. Kia thought it looked like something out of
The X-Files
. The doctor was standing at the back of the room, pulling on latex gloves.

“Climb up,” the nurse instructed, “and put your feet in the stirrups.”

Kia did as she was told, and stared at the ceiling. Her hands gripped the metal rails at the side of the cot. She forced herself to focus on a small black stain overhead as she fought back tears. Even with the doctor and the nurse in the room, she’d never felt so alone in her life. She began to tremble. The nurse draped a sheet over her and
then wrapped a blood-pressure band around her arm. Kia felt the band squeeze, and then release. The nurse jotted something on a clipboard and pushed a thermometer into Kia’s mouth. She lifted Kia’s wrist, felt for the pulse and then studied her watch. She wrote down the information and pulled the thermometer out of Kia’s mouth. Then with the ease that comes from years of practice, she slid a thin needle into the skin on the back of Kia’s hand and strung the tubing up to a pole above her head.

Kia heard the doctor approach.

“Everything okay, Kia?” he asked, his voice muffled behind a surgical mask that covered his nose and mouth.

She stared up at him. Here she was, lying on a narrow cot in an abortion clinic, covered only by a thin hospital gown and sheet, with her feet in stirrups, waiting for him to scrape out the little life inside her, and he was asking her if everything was okay? Was he serious?

A little groan escaped her, but he must have taken that for an affirmative answer because she heard him sit on the stool at the foot of the cot and she felt the sheet and gown being lifted away from her legs. He pressed her knees apart, and she heard the tray rattle as he took something off it.

“The first thing I’m going to do is insert this speculum, just like when you have an internal exam,” he said. “It will feel cold, but it won’t hurt.”

It won’t hurt, Kia thought. Not this part. But the next part might. She’d been told to expect some discomfort, even with the local anesthetic. And what would the tiny fetus feel when it was being scraped off the side of her uterus? The little baby whose heart was already beating
and who was probably a beautiful light tan color, a cross between her skin tone and Derek’s. As she felt the cold instrument enter her, she suddenly came to a realization.

“Take it out,” she ordered, struggling to sit up. The nurse at her side grabbed her arm and tried to push her back down, but she felt the cold instrument slide back out anyway.

“What’s the matter, Kia?” asked the doctor, looking alarmed. “Did that hurt?”

“Let go of me,” Kia ordered the nurse. The doctor nodded, and Kia sat up. “I’ve changed my mind. I can’t go through with this.” She pulled the gown over her legs and swung them over the side of the cot.

“Kia,” the doctor said quietly, placing his hand on her leg so she wouldn’t jump up. “You’re just nervous. It’s a normal reaction. Why don’t we give you a little something to help you relax?”

“No.” She shook her head. “This is more than nerves. I really have changed my mind. I’m sorry, but I have to leave.”

“Listen, young lady,” the nurse snapped. “This is not acceptable. You’ve had the consultation where you were supposed to make a final decision. This appointment has been reserved especially for you. We’re not going to welcome you back when you come to your senses.”

“I won’t be coming back,” Kia said. “I’m sure.” She pulled the Velcro tab on the blood-pressure band and it fell off her arm. “I’m sorry I let it go this far. But please,” she said, pushing the doctor’s hand off her leg, “let me go. I need to get out of here.”

“Kia,” the doctor said after glancing sharply at the
nurse. “The procedure will be over in twenty minutes and then you can get on with your life. This will become just a dim memory. Pregnancy, on the other hand, is another seven months long, childbirth can be difficult and painful, and then you’ll have to decide what to do with the child, and you’re really not much more than a child yourself.” He shook his head. “I think you’re letting your emotions influence your common sense.”

Kia knew she had to sound rational. “I know this is the right thing for a lot of girls,” she said, then cleared her throat, trying to suppress the quiver she heard there, “but I just realized it’s not right for me. I’m sorry I didn’t see that before,” she continued, looking the nurse right in the eye.

The doctor stood up, defeated. “Take the IV out,” he instructed.

The nurse tore the tape off Kia’s hand and pulled out the needle. Then, with as much dignity as she could muster, Kia climbed off the stretcher, reached around and tugged the back of the gown together again and walked toward the door. Without glancing back she returned to the cubicle, quickly changed into her clothes and found her way back to the waiting room and Justin.

“Justin.”

He looked up sharply. “Kia, what are you doing here?”

“I changed my mind.” Once again she felt her voice catching in her throat. “Let’s go. Quick.”

He jumped up, putting his arm around her shoulder, and guided her through the door, into the rain. It was a short walk to the car, but they were both soaked by the
time they reached it. He opened the passenger door and waited while she got in. Then he climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to look at her.

“Are you okay, Kia?”

“I’m going to be now.” She nodded, thinking about it. For the first time in weeks, she felt in control of her own life.

He studied her, then pulled off his wire-rimmed glasses, dried them on his shirt and put them back on. He started the car and pulled out into the traffic. “We’ll go somewhere quiet to talk, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Neither of them said a word until Justin pulled into a driveway. “This is my parents’ house,” he said, adding sheepishly, “I still live at home.”

“So do I.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit older than you, and I’ve been out of school for years. Anyway, no one’s home.”

Kia nodded and climbed out of the car.

After hanging their coats on hooks beside the door, Justin plugged the kettle in to make tea. Kia sank into a chair in the kitchen. Looking around, she decided the room looked a lot like Justin himself—kind of funky, a bit cluttered and unconventional, but cheerful and warm. He sat down across the table from her while he waited for the water to boil.