Love's Illusions: A Novel (28 page)

It was still bleeding, and by this time it had started to hurt, throb – I had to get help.

I dumped more hydrogen peroxide over my arm, piled cotton balls on it then wrapped it with another dish towel, went into the bedroom, and tried to put on my jeans. The towel kept coming loose, so I fastened it with duct tape. I was about to call The Canteen to see if Michael might be there when the front door of the apartment opened. It was him. I put the phone receiver down, “I was just trying to find you – I need help.” I said.

As he moved further inside the door, his eyes darted from my duct taped arm, around the room to the broken window, the trail of blood on the floor and the blood soaked towel hanging from the side of the bathroom sink. “What happened…? You didn’t… Are you alright!?!” he demanded.

“I’ll be fine, but I think I might need a couple stitches, could you take me to the emergency room?” I replied. I hadn’t moved since the door opened. I was searching his face trying to see if he hated me – I couldn’t tell, he looked even more shocked and pained then when he had left.

“Oh, babe, what did you do? Let me see,” he said sounding panicked as he crossed the room to my side, and lifted my towel-wrapped arm.
Okay, he called me babe, maybe he’ll help me get to the hospital before he splits,
I thought
.

“It was an accident,” I said looking him in the eyes. “I broke the window, and I was going to tape that cardboard over it for the night, but my hand slipped and it cut me.” I hesitated, then repeated, “Michael, it was an accident, I swear it was! I’ll tell you everything, but it hurts, and it was still bleeding when I wrapped it, so could we go please? St. Joseph’s is the closest ER – only a few blocks away.”

By the time we got back from the emergency room it was well past midnight. The ER doc was suspicious about my story, saying he should hold me for a 72 hour psychiatric observation, but Michael backed me up saying he was there and had seen the whole thing. “It was an accident Dr. Lintel, nothing more. There’s nothing to observe – accidents happen,” he stated in a voice that left no room for doubt. They stitched me up, gave me a prescription for antibiotics, one that wouldn’t harm the baby – Michael made sure the doctor knew I was pregnant – and let me go home.

Neither one of us had mentioned the pregnancy since Michael walked in the door, except for him telling the doctor. He helped me tape the cardboard over the broken window, and pick up the remaining evidence of my bloody fiasco. When I first told him what happened, I think he had doubts about my story himself, but as he had me repeat it over and over with more and more detail, I was 99% sure he believed it was an accident. I told him everything, except about the split second when the thought crossed my mind to cut the other wrist – there was no need to voice that I decided. I had made the right decision; I was here, I didn’t do it, so expressing those random thoughts could serve no purpose.

But now, alone again, with the emergency over, the pregnancy loomed like a storm cloud between us. We were standing in the middle of the living room, trying not to look at each other – shy, almost embarrassed, each of us averting our gaze, immediately glancing away whenever we caught the other looking. Neither of us knew what to say; neither of us wanted to argue. We both started to speak at the same time, then smiling at each other, he deferred to me. I took a few steps towards him, pressed my lips together and replied, “I want to thank you. Thank you for coming back, and thank you for believing me.”

He reached out, took my hand, pulled me closer. Closing his arms around me in a tight hug, he kissed my forehead and cheek, murmuring, “I’m just glad you’re okay.” We stood there, embracing, our bodies saying that we both wanted to find a way back to each other.

“Jackie, I know you’re tired, but could we talk some before you go to sleep? Keith is leaving in the morning – I have to go home tonight, but I need to talk to you… please?”

“Of course,” I nodded, “but can we do it lying down?”

“Hmph, you’re right,” he was chuckling as he spoke, “we do do our best talking that way.”

Michael’s voice was serious; I could hear the pain and confusion even though he tried hard to disguise it. He had spent the day wandering around the city, finally getting on his bike, and heading north trying to find some open road to ride letting the wind help him think. He’d been shocked when I told him. He told me he was hurt by my going to Mary Beth first. He was confused because he wanted kids, but knew how difficult it would be to have one now… He understood that it would change both our lives forever. He said he loved me, and asked that I not do anything until we both had a chance to think things through – to talk more. Not argue – talk. I agreed.

As he got up to leave something I had been wondering about popped back into my mind. “Michael, where did you get the key? You let yourself in when you came back… I’ve never given you a key…”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t be mad – I had it made back before Christmas when we were arguing, and I took your keys to go get food. Tonight… well, tonight was the first time it felt right to use it. Do you want me to give it back to you?”

“No,” I said choking back tears, “I should’ve given you one a long time ago.”

Planned Parenthood gave me a referral to a clinic in Rochester, New York that could do the procedure any time before the 12 week point. I was now eight weeks along. Kent was still trying to help find someone in Chicago, but didn’t have a name yet. My stitches had been removed and my wrist was healing well. I was still finding the occasional odd piece of glass in some far off corner of the floor, but the front window had been replaced, the bloody towels were washed, and other than being pregnant, generally life was back to normal.

Keith was gone so I didn’t have to deal with his bullshit – at least for the moment. In a strange way, Michael and I were growing closer. Maybe it was me relaxing some as I realized I wouldn’t have to go through this alone – Michael made it clear that he wasn’t going to bolt; he was staying with me. In fact, he was being very attentive, very loving, always asking me how I felt or if I needed anything. It was sweet, but also annoying as hell.

We had talked, then talked some more, but were currently at an impasse; he thought he wanted this baby – I didn’t. I went over and over all the logical reasons why having this kid was a shitty idea. He said we could make it work; I told him I didn’t want to ‘make anything work’. I wanted it to be right from the beginning – not an accident. Every day we went around in circles, over the same territory again and again. Ultimately though, he understood: I held the deciding vote.

It turned out that his initial adamancy about not getting an abortion was directed towards doing it illegally – he was afraid for my safety. He calmed down once he understood that I intended to go to New York if a safe alternative couldn’t be found here. Somewhere deep inside himself he knew I was right, knew we weren’t ready, knew having this child would be a mistake – but he was also infatuated with the ‘idea’ of it. He was hoping time would alter my thinking; likewise, I was hoping it would alter his. Until it was settled, I made him promise me he would not tell anyone, especially not his mother or anyone at The Canteen – I didn’t think I could withstand pressure from the whole world. In return, I promised not to smoke or drink, take Valium or get fucked up on any kind of substance whatsoever, no matter how much I wanted to, just in case I changed my mind. I was always exhausted, so I was 99% sure I could fall asleep easily on my own – I even took naps.

“Hey Jackie, it’s John. Well we’ve finally got a court date; it’s Wednesday, October 18th.”

“That’s great! That’s less than two weeks away. I assume you still haven’t had any kind of response from Stephen?” I asked.

“No, nothing, the deadline passed a long time ago anyhow. But we’ve complied with all the legal requirements, so that won’t be an issue,” he replied. “I’ll be getting in touch with Bernie and Mary Beth. We need them there as witnesses, in case the judge wants to ask any questions, but I’m almost positive I won’t need to call them – just you.”

“Okay, both of them said they would do it before, so I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I’ll call them later too. So how is your dissertation coming John?”

“Pretty good – I’m on schedule at least. I want to thank you for talking to me. I learn so much from people like you,” he replied.

“No, actually, I think it was you that helped me. Talking about it all… well it helped me to sort through the whole thing myself. I was wondering, would it be possible to get copies of the tapes? They give a pretty good account of how I was feeling at the time, and who knows, maybe later… Well, maybe they could help… if I ever decided to listen to them.”

“Of course, I’ll make copies for you, and bring them when we meet. What’s your schedule like for the rest of the week? You will have to testify so I want to go over everything with you ahead of time. Do you have time this Thursday?” John asked.

Twenty-one years old, divorced and now pregnant – I seemed to be doing everything backwards, at least according to the rules I had been taught as a little girl. I was now 10 weeks along, and my divorce was final as of today. For the past two weeks I had been stressing about going to court; even during Michael’s 24th birthday celebration the week before. Michael was happy though – pretty much considered the divorce his birthday present. I wanted it to be over, but was very, very nervous, even though John had assured me that court was only a formality at this point.

We had gone over my testimony. There was nothing complicated – name, address, date we were married, date we separated, verify we had no children, verify we had no property, state grounds for divorce, settle the outstanding medical bills, and ask for use of my maiden name back. Since there was no response from Stephen, no opposing attorney, no nothing on the other side, John would be able to lead me through it. He was right – it took all of ten minutes from start to finish. He did not have to call either Mary Beth or Bernie to testify, the judge just said “granted,” and that was that. When it was over, both Mary Beth and Bernie left with the same question in their minds as I had, ‘Was that judge even listening?’ John laughed at all three of us then headed off with Bernie to some Bar Association luncheon, saying he’d mail me the paperwork when it came, but in the meantime I should call if I needed anything.

Mary Beth and I decided to duck into one of the restaurants close to the courthouse for lunch too before heading home. I ordered a cheeseburger, French fries, and a diet Coke – I was starving, of course I was always starving lately. I had only experienced three signs of early pregnancy so far: 1) I was always tired, 2) I was always hungry and, 3) my nipples were pink and my boobs were sensitive. I had not experienced any morning sickness – the thought of being nauseous every day was very unsettling.

As we sat down and took off our coats, Mary Beth asked me, “Where the hell did you get that dress Jackie? It looks like one of my mother’s table cloths.”

I grinned, “Yep, that’s why I bought it. John told me I should wear a conservative dress to court, so I went to the second hand store on the corner and found this – it was cheap, and I thought it made me look respectable, right?” The dress was a simple, empire waist style in a blue and white hound’s-tooth pattern, with long sleeves, buttons up the front and a white lacy collar and cuffs. “You know how people save wedding dresses, and pass them on generation after generation… well I was thinking about saving my divorce dress and passing it on,” I said.

Smiling back and laughing she replied, “That’s fucked up.”

“Well then think of it this way – the long sleeves and these damn white cuffs hide my wrist. It’s healing, but I’m going to have a scar, and it’s still red and ugly – I didn’t want John to see it.” I pulled back the edge of the cuff so she could look.

“Oh yeah, you were lucky with that – it could have been a lot worse,” she said nodding. “So do you still have the appointment on Monday? You haven’t changed your mind have you?” she asked looking up over her BLT sandwich.

“Hmph, don’t worry, I haven’t changed my mind. I still have the appointment – Michael and I are driving to Rochester on Sunday,” I told her. “He still says we could make it work and that’s sweet – I mean, I love him for giving me the option, but I… well I just can’t go through with it. Having this baby would be the biggest mistake of my life, and I’ve made some pretty big ones so far. I mean shit – I just got divorced 15 minutes ago!” I said, taking a huge bite of my burger.

“Yeah, I can’t picture you living over the garage with him and a kid. I wish Kent had been able to find someone here, then you wouldn’t have to travel. Are you sure you don’t need me to go along?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Michael will take care of me – I’m sure of it. Even though part of him wants this, he knows I’m right. We’ve talked about it for a month now so… it’ll be okay. He, ahhh… Well he said he wanted me to be at peace with the decision. There was just something about the way he said it. I don’t know, it just struck me. I mean how does a person ever know if they’re making the right decision – something they can be at ‘peace’ with, especially when it’s a permanent decision like this?”

“I don’t know – what does
Cosmo
say?” Mary Beth replied smiling across the table at me. “Hell, the way the world is going, it could all blow up tomorrow. You just make the best decision you can, that’s all.”

We finished lunch and planned a divorce party of sorts for Friday night at The Canteen. Walking down the block towards the bus stop I gasp, feeling a quick, sharp pain in my stomach. “What’s wrong, are you alright?” Mary Beth asked stopping and turning towards me.

“Ahhh yeah, it’s gone now. I’ve been getting these cramps for about a week now – mostly right after I pig out and eat too much like I just did. I’ll be fine,” I told her starting to walk again, and changing the subject back to the divorce celebration. Divorce parties were all the rage right now according to the trashy magazines – so why was I feeling sad?